"Zaroori nahin ki thapad kha kar hi seekho. kisi aur ko padh raha ho toh woh dekh kar bhi seekh sakte ho!"
My father's statement was an eye-opener literally and M 'literarily' so. A crude yet true wisdom of 'learning from others' mistakes rather than doing your own'. I have been observing people closely all my life. Especially their big moments, the mistakes they make, the drama, and the adventures, not to miss the interplay of human nature. After all, to err is human! Did I learn anything? Doubtful! However, I was deeply entertained by their stories, and these have stayed with me.
When I started writing, it was mostly wishful thinking, and possible scenarios of cause and effect. With age, the musings turned into past events, stories told, and what-ifs. People I met stayed with me as anecdotes, conversations, and experiences. I was quick to judge them and their lives. As I put them to paper, they emerged as beautiful characters, each with their struggles and unique experiences. Despite a few bittersweet interactions and lost friendships, their stories left hues of rainbows and depths that I hadn't seen when I knew them.
Knowing them was a privilege. I have tried to pen their emotions and mine in written words, which I couldn't express in person. This is an ode to those who honoured me as a keeper of their stories. I wish to tell them-I see you and I hear you. You are here, long after you are gone from my life or from life itself!
This short story collection I have put together was inspired by my blogs. It's a profound exploration of the memories we hold or the stories we have heard or read. These tales live within our hearts, bodies, and minds. Some we hide, some we share, some we live, some leave a mark, some give warmth, some make us shiver, some raise heartbeats, and some sting. We are the carriers of these stories, keepsakeing them in our hearts or passing them on. We are a part of someone's story, and they are of ours.
Imagine you read this book and drop me a note. We may become friends and have interesting interactions, somethings to be written about. Everything is part inspiration and partimagination, and a lot of interpretation. Life as an ode to storytelling or storytelling as an ode to life. Either way, it works.
Maape is a joint term for mother and father in Punjabi.
This story is dedicated to my parents. Their quarrels have dominated my siblings' lives and mine. I like to believe they have a love story, though an unconventional one.
Lahore to Jagraon is based on real conversations with my grandparents, lovingly called Bade Papa and Bade Mummy. Everyone has a love story intertwined with the themes of current affairs, history, religion, and migration.
I am deeply grateful to friends and family whom I emotionally blackmailed into helping me with the book. Anoop and Ananya for giving me space and ideas. My father's formal comment of 'well written' made me feel like I had won an essay competition. He read, took notes, and gave me candid feedback, the best I could ask for. My mother voiced her age-old dictum, 'log kya kahenge'-what will people say, never assuming I will tell all.
Thank you, Shakun, Anne, Rajni, Poonam, Bharat, Vishal, and Ramesh Sir. Every aspiring author needs a group of friends who can read the work and provide honest feedback in a kind manner. Thank you, Garuda team, Hema, and Sandhya, for giving me the platform and the support to tell these stories. Gaurav Joshi, for your invaluable guidance. Ghanshyam Deshmukh, for illustrating the book cover and capturing its essence. Manishi and Meenal, for the initial designs. There are others whose names I don't mention but without whom this journey wouldn't have been possible.
Finally, a big thank you to you, the readers! Now, these stories are as much yours as they are mine.
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