Awesome Website: The Moth

As much as I love a good book, I honestly believe that some stories are not meant to be limited to the confines of text. Some stories are best narrated out loud. The art of verbally telling a story is a difficult one to master. How do you keep the audience interested while remaining true to the story? Let’s see it done by some of the best…

The Moth is an organization that presents stories, told live to audiences around the world. In their own words, “The Moth is an acclaimed not-for-profit organization dedicated to the art and craft of storytelling. It is a celebration of both the raconteur, who breathes fire into true tales of ordinary life, and the storytelling novice, who has lived through something extraordinary and yearns to share it.”

Check out one of my favourite stories:

Click here to check out their website. Special thanks to Aditi Mittal for introducing me to The Moth!

Won’t you take me to Funkytown?

by Nishi Shroff

Image Source: Sellerby.com

I don’t want to be a hypocrite, but it isn’t easy to live in a city where moving just half-an-inch, in any direction, means stepping on somebody’s toes, literally. I would also like to breathe fresh air, but when I sit at a promenade I can still inhale Marlboro fumes. I most definitely don’t want to be a hypocrite.

There are billboards all over the place and nobody cares what’s on them, you learn how to tune it all out when there’s so much clutter thrown at you. What worries me are the lakhs and crores in ad spends, especially when a child is crapping on the corner of a busy junction, right below a bank’s hoarding.

Being grown up requires Shit, Strength and Sass

by Rucha Shukla

Grown up. How often do our parents ask us to grow up? Be mature. Start behaving our age. We feel indignant. We are behaving our age, this is what I am supposed to be at 15 or 16 or 18. Let me live.

And you live. Till one day you find that life catches up with you and you realize that you have grown up. Actually. And oh man that is such a weird realization. Suddenly you want to go back. Reach 14, hit 16, and swing all the way into 18 and re enact your 21^st birthday…All over again.

But you’re grown up now. What to do? What’s been drilled into our heads since we were probably 5 has finally come to pass. You start behaving mature, you file your tax returns (and that to me is the ultimate in grown up world), you start worrying what you will put on your Facebook status will be read and judged by people, you worry about money (which you earn and hence is even more precious) and you worry about the super ultimate “Where is my life headed?”

But somebody has to be grown up. To my mind it’s like puberty, it’s going to hit you sooner or later. Too soon and you’ll feel weird; too late and you’ll feel like you’re irresponsible. Either ways, it’s going to hit you.

Doesn’t have to be doomsday, though it sounds like that the way I’ve written it. It’s just hit me and I’ve been at times fighting tooth and nail to resist it or embracing it like the Chipko movement.

The trick – None that I can think of, except that you make it up as you go along. Sort of like writing your own story, you edit your own parts, add your own drama, polish up the words and do a little bit of calligraphy. And you get to choose your very own paper. I would choose a purple colored one.

What does this post mean? I don’t know. It’s a cross between The Sunscreen Song and Finding Neverland. I 

think.

Hi my name is Rucha and I’m trying to write. All over again.

---

Rucha Shukla is an Associate Producer for TV and has recently spent most of her time alternately dreaming about getting a house in Coorg so that she can write random poetry for the rest of her days and watching reruns of Supernatural.

---

Feature: Memento Mori

by Arvind Menon

Congratulations on choosing Memento Mori, you are one step closer to a joyous and fulfilling life.

The Memento Mori program promises to free your mind from a dull dreary outlook, and lead you to greener, brighter pastures and help you find all the happiness you’ve ever wanted.

The program was founded in 1969 by renowned psychologist and philosopher, Dr. Ahmed Beirut. He postulated that with rapid advances in technology, medicine and science, mankind’s zest for living exponentially reduced. Man is being driven to a life with illusionary pleasures and manufactured emotions. Through years of study, Dr. Beirut found that if one wants to really feel true freedom, one must embrace death and face their inevitable mortality on a daily basis.

From this idea, the Memento Mori Program was born.

In 3-4 weeks you will receive your Starter Kit, which includes a jar containing one thousand (1000) blue capsules. Hidden within these capsules is one (1) capsule of slow acting cyanide. The rest of the pills are absolutely harmless placebos. 

You must keep this jar at your bedside and consume one capsule with a glass of water every night.

If you happen to consume the cyanide capsule, it will start working with three (3) hours, killing you peacefully while you sleep.

If you consume the placebo, you will wake up in the morning, fresh and thankful at having received the gift of a brand new day.

With the renewed vigour that comes with embracing one’s mortality, you will be able to pursue activities of your choice through the day with a noticeably upbeat and cheerful outlook to life.

You will be able to relish and savour each moment of the day, find fulfilling hobbies and pursuits and engage in more meaningful interpersonal relationships with near and dear ones.

You will receive a fresh supply of placebos every three (3) months which you must add to the jar and shake vigorously.

 Please note that at Memento Mori, we do not subscribe to cheap psychological tricks to motivate our patrons. There is a real cyanide pill in the jar, the consequences of consuming which are most definitely lethal. We encourage our patrons to get their affairs in order before starting the program.

You can call our 24 hour toll free helpline to avail of legal assistance at a subsidized rate to draw up a last will and testament.

Kindly consider signing up for our organ donor program, and help those in need, even in death.

Once again, best regards for your new life. Make every second count.

---

Arvind Menon (who refused to contribute to his bio for this section, and hence I am doing it) is one of the most talented people I know. His ability to come up with unconventional ideas and structure them in an innovative manner has led to a career in advertising. It also leads to some very interesting conversations and (as you can see) some fantastic writing.

---

Feature: The Day

by Chandni Tolani

She stepped out of the shower and her hands trembled as she scrubbed her perfect black curls, dry. She knew this was it; it was the day when he was going to pop the big question to her. Last evening, he had invited her to a lavish dinner at one of the most expensive rooftop restaurants in the city. 'Friday, 9 PM, Aer. It's a date!' She read the message every ten minutes. It made her smile nervously every time she read it.

She sat in front of the mirror, thinking to herself what would she wear? She had waited for this for seven long years, and it was finally happening. She wanted to look her best, on this day. "Should I wear the yellow dress that he loves the most? Or maybe something that he's never seen me in before?" She wasn’t too fond of the colour, but he loved it, so it didn’t matter. So many thoughts crawling in and out of her mind, it had to be a flawless night.

She walked to her wardrobe and tried eleven outfits before she chose one. It wasn't the same dress, but it was his favourite colour, yellow. She let her hair loose, just the way he liked it, with the curls falling on her back and just some, on her face. She wore diamond earrings, stilettoes and carried a clutch bag. She checked her watch; it was ten minutes to nine. It would take her twenty minutes to cover the distance from her house to the restaurant. He was never late, which was one of the traits about him, she adored the most. He would make certain he reached before time; he hated to make her wait. She took one last look at herself, before stepping out of home and took a deep breath knowing that she won’t be single again. It was 'the day'.

On her journey to Aer, she recalled all the special moments she had cherished with him. How she’d wake him up every morning with a phone call, ‘There’s no better way of starting my day, than hearing your voice’, he always said. How she would innocently act silly when he was low, just to make him smile. How they would cuddle on the couch and watch movies every weekend. Their little fights over Chinese food or Italian, he loved the latter. Meaningless conversations in the middle of the night, unexpected surprises on no special occasions, everything came back to her in a flash. She was beaming, impatiently!