My vision in life is to be a Better Version Of Myself Every Day. And my purpose in life is ‘Learn, Grow, Inspire and Contribute’.
Everything that I do ties into this vision - including my writing. Check out anumorris.com for more info!
Where does judgement come from?
Meera could pluck her feathers with her beak all day long but, she could not believe that she had finally been accepted to the world-famous - 'The Grand Owlish University'. The university was known for its diverse owl population. Owls from all over the world competed to get into this esteemed historical establishment. She had got a call from Mr Owl-President stating how proud she had made her country India. Not a lot of owls from India made it into the outside world. It's not like it was easy for an Indian Owl and that too a female one to get admission. She knew many of her peers did not even try outside because of their label. Her kind had a reputation and not a good one, unlike her western peers. And since arriving at the university, she hadn't really felt as if she belonged - truly. Even her feathers drooped as she walked around the school corridors.
Oops - A Missed Kiss
I am selfish. I care about myself first and then about others. These thoughts became more prominent when I left the secure nest that my parents had created for me. Growing up, I was fortunate enough to be spoiled by a host of aunts, uncles, cousins and my dear parents. So, when I met my husband, whose middle name is NICE, I was attracted to him. He had what I lacked - unselfishness.
An Argument With Reality About Food.
If you looked at me, you would probably say I look fine. And by fine, I mean not fat. I know my BMI is where it is supposed to be. I exercise five times a week at least for 15 minutes. I meditate twice a day for two hours. And to top it all, I am 80% vegan.
Murderbots And Humans
'The Secret Axe' was the title of the first story I ever wrote as a child. I was obsessed with all things secret as a kid. Secret series by Enid Blyton - Secret Island, Secret Seven - was my favourite growing up. What got me into reading was Alibaba and the forty thieves. I was in first or second grade, and my dad was reading that story to me. One night he was busy and could not read to me, but I could not wait, so I took the book and pieced enough words together to understand the story. And since then, there has been no stopping me. I read on the dining table. I read on the couch. I read on the bus. I was afraid to sleep in a room by myself, but I became fearless when I had a book to finish (because it meant I could read even after bedtime). Books have been my true friends throughout my life - summer holidays, when I was alone in the US, tough times during my MBA. Even now, I feel at home when I walk into a library because everybody there shares the love of books.
What's The Point?
I have been dead long enough to see my great-grandson get married. That means I had a son - who had a son and then who had a son. It should feel like a long time ago, but it still feels like yesterday when I entered the ancestral house at the tender age of sixteen.
Breaking The Glass Ceiling - time to untrap yourself
THE NIGHTMARE I was skating on a frozen pond - it was the perfect winter day for it. Quite a few old men with their hooks and smoking pipes were sitting around fishing. They had a hole drilled where they put in the bait and waited for the fish. I was skating around them so that I did not cause a disturbance. Then all of a sudden, a big hole opened up in front of me. Even though I knew the hole was right there, I still went towards it and fell in, and I could not get out. I was in the freezing water while the gap was closing in on me - I could see the old men sitting around just watching.
Green Is For Go
Greg was hiding behind his mother's dress in the sewing shop. His mother could not afford to send him to a school with her meagre hourly wages. Greg did not mind being at the sewing shop among machines, gears, threads. He created stories in his head in which his only and most precious wooden car was the hero. And up until a week ago, Greg and his car had been successfully vanquishing all villains.
Enough Is Enough
I butchered the marigolds while weaving them into a garland for my daughter - Anju's wedding. Marigold garlands are my speciality. I was so good at this skill that I made them for my and everybody else's weddings. But for some reason, I was having a hard time making garlands for my daughter's most important milestone. My smart, beautiful lovely daughter was going to marry a guy eleven years older than her because she believed we - well, her father knew what was best for her. If it were up to me, I would have let her do what she wanted and what she was really good at - engineering in computer science. Her teacher at the school had said she had the potential to be a hotshot executive someday. And I knew Mrs. Banerjee - she was not one to boast idly. I looked around in the kitchen - there were signs everywhere of my daughter's tech skills - the smart home gadgets, the timer that sang 'You can bring me the food - mummy' in her voice instead of the shrill alarm. And most importantly, a male voice for Alexa - because she wanted to order around a male in the kitchen, much to her dad's chagrin.
If Only I Had Opened It
I was in the basement of my parents' house, the house I grew up in as a child. The weather was a scorching 45 degrees celsius outside, but in here, you wouldn't know. It was always dark, dank and damp with a musty odour that seemed to stick to your clothes. I took a sip of cold brew and lifted another box to wade through when my thirteen-year-old daughter said, 'Mama - this looks terribly suspicious.' Double adverbs - six months in a private London school will do that to you.
A Choco-rella Story
BEFORE THE PARTY 'You nincompoops, ungrateful, good for nothing, idiots,' screamed the stepmom - Kamini. She raged, her nostrils flaring, 'the birthday party is in a few hours. The Prince will select his bride at midnight, and you both haven't started baking our speciality dessert - Chocolate Cakes. What will happen to this household if I wasn't around!' Kamini glared at the Cook and Arya, her step-daughter, who knew better than to respond with anything except downcast, pitiful looks.
Sweety The Goat
Arya could hear the rain pattering on the tiled barn roof. Monsoon in Mumbai hadn't changed in the ten years since she left Raigad. Her family had moved to Raigad - a farming village for job-related reasons. She had hated the mud roads, lack of modern amenities, but most of all, she had missed her life in Mumbai. Even though four hours away, it felt worlds away. Her only escape was to the world of books with spicy chaat from her next-door neighbour to this barn. That had changed when she had met Sweety the goat and Ramu - goatherd, her only friends. Until that fateful night which weighed on her every day.
Journey From Head To Heart
# Worker_Arya was waiting in the queue to start her day. She was a ferry worker - her job was to transport Elites and other Workers in the Vestibule. The Vestibule was a long titanium cylindrical tower - the only structure surviving post-apocalypse. It was home to three human types - Elites, Workers and Scums. Core Machina - the mind bot running the Vestibule had programmed her destiny as a ferry worker when she was born. Just like it had programmed everything else - daily routines, emotions, thoughts, births and deaths. Core Machine also muted their senses so that they saw everything in shades of grey and had no sense of smell or taste.