Patience Is Not Always A Virtue, And Here’s Why.

Patience is not a virtue.

If I had a nickel for every time I heard that, I’d be broke. Bankrupt.

You know why? It’s because everyone is too busy harping on about how patience in a person’s character is so very important, and how good things come to those who wait.

Et tu, Yoda?

I’ll accept, that is true. Patience is an admirable quality, and yes, we all do need to be patient sometimesSometimes being the key word. You can’t just sit back down and wait for something to happen constantly – you’ve got to make it happen at times.

A family member (hereafter referred to as The Patient) has been having severe health issues lately, and I’ve been spending a lot of my days at the hospital, keeping up with doctor’s appointments. When The Patient didn’t respond to the ongoing treatment program then, we looked for a second opinion, and fixed an appointment for five o’clock in the evening with another doctor. Now, I may not be the most punctual person on Earth (as my best friend knows all too well :P), but I am wary of important appointments I have to be on time for. Thus, we found ourselves in the waiting room at exactly four minutes to five o’clock, which is quite the accomplishment I’d say. 😀

There were two specialists at this particular hospital, and the one that we were supposed to see hadn’t arrived yet. Upon further inquiry, and half an hour’s worth of phone calls, we were informed nonchalantly that he would take another hour to arrive. We contemplated consulting the other doctor on-call, but decided against it, as we knew we were the only appointment for the doctor who went AWOL on us, and didn’t want his trip to be a total waste of time.

So guess what we did?

We wasted our time, by waiting another hour. With no sign of him yet, and The Patient’s pain increasing exponentially, I dared to request his estimated time of arrival. Five more minutes didn’t sound too bad, so we decided to wait. After all, we’d been patient for an hour and a half already, why not three hundred seconds more?

And that, folks, was our worst decision. After sitting in total silence for another twenty minutes, we were told hesitantly that we would need to wait another forty minutes.

There was no way we could do that. We told them to cancel the appointment, and after we found that the other doctor was also unavailable, walked out of there with nearly two hours lost and The Patient still suffering. After much speculation and retrospection, I realised that it was because we were too patient in the hospital. Perhaps, if we had canceled the appointment at the time of his first delay and seen the other doctor, we would have gotten some answers, and The Patient would have gotten some relief. Perhaps, if we had told them we could not wait, the doctor might have told us he would not be able to make it, and to consult someone else. Perhaps, if we had not been so patient, we might have gained, instead of lost.

And that’s when I learnt that patience is not always a virtue. Sometimes, you can’t be patient and bear it through the storm. Sometimes, you have to do something about it to ensure you get through. Sometimes, you have to look at your circumstances too, because as I recently discovered, there is something called too much patience.

Patience isn’t always the answer, because it spars with time.

And we all know that time waits for no one….

…because it is just that much of an inconsiderate abstract concept to mess with our overly defensive heads.

Catch you later!

Niru 🙂

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If Life Is A Story, Then The Universe Must Be An Anthology.

Today I realised that we all have our own stories. And when we’re too caught up in writing our own, we miss out on each other’s.

I’m sure that we have all come across those inspirational posts telling us that our lives are our stories. It could be posted by your parent, sibling, best friend, that random guy you met on Facebook, that embarrassing distant relative we all avoid at reunions (come on, you know it’s true 😀 ), or the creepy neighbour living next door whom you’re quite certain is stalking you.

You know, these kind of posts:

The ones that are blunt and tell you the facts straight up.

The ones that sugarcoat to motivate.

The ones that are painfully obvious.

And of course, the ‘artsy’, ‘I so believe in this’, ‘It looks pretty so it’s true’ ones.

Yeah. Those kind of posts.

I normally don’t have much against them. Sometimes I even agree with them. Yet, there is something about them that I simply cannot understand. In every single one of these posts, we don’t talk about any other story but our own. It is always about ‘you’ and ‘your’ story.

But I’m not the only one writing my story.

We’re all lost in our own world, waiting to be found. We all have stories behind the words we exchange and the smiles we gift. We have all had a life before we meet a new person, and he or she has had a life before they met you.Yet we think only of how far we have come, and how far we have to go. We wonder of what we could’ve done, and what we still can do. We regret decisions we have made, and fear the ones we will.

When we finally do take a peek at another life, we start reading their stories only from the chapter we entered their lives in. It is rare that we skip to the beginning but common to skip to the end. You know why? Because these chapters are a part of our stories too – and we’re immersed in writing our own. We need only what we want. We’re interested in how they affect our lives, but I’m prepared to bet that we take little time to think about how we might have affected theirs.

There is so much to every person we will ever meet because their story is what makes them, them. If we’re too focused on our own story, we lose track of them. We’ve got to see that when we look at someone, we’re only seeing the part of them we interact with now. Not the part of them that we would’ve interacted with a few mistakes ago, or perhaps a few losses ago, maybe even a few happier years ago.

Know that on this journey, you will read more stories that your mind can comprehend, but that’s okay. Learn that everyone has a story worth remembering. Understand that you’re not the only one.

The best writers always find the time to read other stories.

What are we, as writers, if we do not read? Who are we, as masters of our lives, if not amateurs to others’? Where are we, as people, if not in each other’s stories?

Yes, life is a story, and inspirational posts have reiterated that.

But if life is a story, then the universe must be an anthology – a collection of all our stories, intertwined together. You can’t understand it when you’re missing a piece. And when you’re too caught up in writing your own story, you miss out on another’s.

You miss out on that piece.

Catch you later!

Niru 🙂

“You’re An Oxymoron.” : Puns, Laughter, and Humour.

I’ve already mentioned my love for puns before, haven’t I?

Just in case you missed it, here’s my motto:

Hey, look, someone made a GIF of my motto.

Now that that’s out of the way, let me share with you my plan for conquering the world! ….Wait, no, sorry, that’s not right – I’m reading the wrong flashcard. Hold on while I search for the right one.

Here we are. Ladies and gentlemen, let me share with you…oh, you know what? Thought I’d try something new, but this whole flashcard thing isn’t working. Let’s just wing it.

(Dramatically throws papers into the air.)

Wikipedia defines a pun as: The pun, also called paronomasia, is a form of word play that suggests two or more meanings, by exploiting multiple meanings of words, or of similar-sounding words, for an intended humorous or rhetorical effect.

I define a pun as: A pun-ishment that packs a pun-ch for those who take the pun out of everything.

It’s expected that puns are a big part of my vocabulary, more so my conversations. Sometimes they go unnoticed, but other times – put it this way, the people who heard them wouldn’t speak to me for days. With this tidbit in mind, it was quite a surprise for me a few weeks ago; I found myself in a pun battle with a literary twist, my opponent being a friend who loves a good play on words as much as I do.


Me: I’m insane.

Friend: No, you’re an oxy-moron.

Me: You better put a full-stop to that.

Friend: Too late. I was never one for pun-ctuatility.

Me: Continue and you’ll be in a com(m)a.

Friend:  I’ve got more, but maybe I should refrain from them.

Me: Do that once more, and it’ll be a strike-through.

Friend: You’d better make a dash for it then.

Me: Nah, that will create too much of a bracket.

Friend: Well, if this isn’t an anti-climax. Now what’s there to simile about?

Me: Hyperbolically, you should know this. A pun is it’s own reword.

Both: (erupts into peals of laughter)


If you’re still reading this, congratulations! You made it through!

I was ecstatic that someone had challenged me to a duel of puns, because not only is it a battle of words, it is a war of wits. There we were, two minds working overtime, coming up with comebacks at an alarming rate. I was surprised at myself, because normally I can’t conjure up a good retort to save my life.

My brain.

Yet, there was something about that battle that kept me thinking about it. I could feel the adrenaline rush in the heat of the moment, when I could shoot comebacks at someone who would shoot them right back at me. There was something masked under the tension of the puns we threw, and the echoes of laughter that escaped us. That something had an energy you don’t get very often. It was a fun lighthearted conversation, not to mention really friendly, but it was a war all the same. I never thought I would put these words together, but it was a war of humour. Humour that gives my life a little more colour and a lot more music. Honestly, I think this war – one of humour – is the only war this world needs.

There is a difference between living and existing. Both are the same, and yet mean so different. What sets the former apart is that extra zap of energy, which mere existence lacks.

For me, it comes in all sorts, but the largest portion of the pie chart indicates humour. What they say really is true, laughter is the best medicine. There’s just something about having a good laugh that refreshes you and gives you a new take on your life at that instant. We all find different things funny, and that is what makes humour all the more interesting. I prefer dry humour, sarcasm, and of course, puns! XD

Although it may seem ironic, perhaps a little laughter is what we all need when seriousness overtakes humour on the highway of life.

Find out what makes you laugh, giggle, chuckle, and guffaw. Find out your style of humour. Find the things that will get you to smile when you cry. Above all, find the time for laughter.

Because they are the little things you will smile back upon; they are the big things you will laugh about.

Catch you later!

Niru 🙂

P.S. Yes, I have been MIA for a week or so, but that is only because I was on an unexpected trip that left me with erratic access to the Internet. The timing of the trip didn’t let me schedule any posts either. :/ The New Year’s resolution is very much still on! Stay happy, read, comment and enjoy!

“I Can Buy The World’s Stock Of Watermelons!”

This is a short story I penned on a whim. Inspired by a Daily Post sometime last year – probably July – I decided to go ahead and post it now. It’s entirely a work of fiction, all conjured up in my head. Stay happy, read, enjoy, and comment or like below! I’d love to hear from you!

I woke up that morning, in my small, cramped apartment; sighing, I switched off the television, realising that I’d fallen asleep on my couch to the reruns of House M.D. I looked around at my messy room, stretching my sore back, and after completing my morning chores, I dawdled to the kitchen counter to make myself some coffee.

A good night’s rest was supposed to make you feel brilliant – like a ray of sunshine on an adventurous mission through the dark and fascinating realms of outer space, shaking with copious amounts of energy. Instead, I felt like someone had taken me on a trip gone wrong, dragged me through bushes, accidentally thrown me in a gigantic washing machine and then hung me out to dry. Not that anyone would ever actually take me on a trip in the first place.

I groaned as I sipped the scalding coffee, and my eyes fell on the clock on the speckled wall in front of me, plaster peeling off the yellowing walls. It was then that I came to the realisation of my poor, pathetic existence. Hailey Walker, a twenty year-old with literally no life. I had a part-time job as a barista at Starbucks to help pay my way through college, and my apartment was a wreck.

I would also be late for the third time this week in showing up for work. I was probably going to get fired. Yet, my impossible optimism would kick in as soon as the clock hit nine, convincing myself that I’d be lucky someday. Well, Lady Luck, if you’re out there, I really need you to pay me a visit, okay?

“If I’m going to be late, I might as well be extremely late.” I muttered, as cynical as always, though I knew it wouldn’t last. Honestly, the few friends I did have were probably concerned that I was bipolar. And just in case you get any funny ideas, Mister or Missy, I’m not. My mother had me tested.

I finished the cup of coffee, and feeling a little better, went to change. I slipped into a warm pair of jeans and a sweatshirt before grabbing my work-clothes and walking out of the door, making sure that it was properly locked. Not that I had anything in that dingy place worth stealing anyway, but I was still a bit neurotic, heavens know why.

The Starbucks was just a block away, and I slowly walked along, taking the time to observe everyone else. I always did like watching people in their natural habitat – gosh, that sounds stalker-like. I’m not creepy, I promise! Just a little interested in observing people’s reactions to life. That’s when I noticed the woman dressed in vintage at the corner – selling lottery tickets. I shrugged as I thought about buying one – I was going to have to pass by her anyway. I kept my walk steady as I neared the turn; the safety of my workplace from my unhealthy urge to buy lottery or raffle tickets whenever I see them was a minute away. It may seem impossible to win, but hey, there’s always a chance – even if the odds are a million to one.

“It’s just one ticket.” I convinced myself, as I pulled out a dollar to give to the old lady. Upon closer inspection, I saw that she was wearing a floral dress that reached her ankles, with a cashmere shawl draped over her shoulders. Her bonnet resembled a tea caddy with tassels.

“Here you go, dearie.” she smiled as she handed me my ticket.

“Thank you.” I said, feeling a little lighter. There we go, my mood swings were swinging into place – about time too. I skipped the rest of the way, and burst into Starbucks cheerily. “Good morning, everyone!”

My co-workers looked up. Some were surprised, some were scared at my sudden entry, and others were too busy to care. “Never mind.” I said, heading to the washroom to change. I smoothed my messy curls and ran to take up my position at the counter. “Thanks, Don!” I yelled to my friend, who covered for me, before turning back to the customer.

“‘Morning, what can I get for you?” I looked up to see the old lady who had just sold me a ticket. I smiled warmly at her.

“A vanilla bean frappucino, please, dearie.” she chuckled, at my look of disbelief. “And a little bit of luck.” She winked. I grinned, even though I had little to no idea as to what she was alluding to. “Turn the radio up, dearie.” she said, with a mischievous tone I never thought she would possess, as I handed her her drink. Silently, I obeyed. There was something about her I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“…and the winning number is 429629. I repeat, the winning number is 429629.” I scrambled to get the ticket out of my purse – why, oh why, did I have this weird feeling in my stomach?

My eyes widened as I read the same six numbers on the piece of paper in my hand. This couldn’t be happening!

“I can buy the world’s stock of watermelons!” I screamed, in the hearing range of everyone present within a three-block radius.

Silence greeted me. You could even hear the crickets chirping, if you listened carefully. My cheeks went red.

“She’s the girl we learn about in Math.” I heard a whisper.

I started to laugh; then it struck me. The tea caddy bonnet, the wink, the lottery ticket, the urge to buy one – they all pointed to the same thing.

I smiled with thanks to her. I had just had a visit from Lady Luck.

Catch you later!

Niru 🙂

Humpty Dumpty, Are You Really A Cracked Egg?

Before we begin – yes, all puns are intended.

Why are you smiling, Humpty?

Remember Humpty Dumpty? The tale of the egg who dared to sit on the wall that completes every collection of Mother Goose’s Nursery Rhymes chock full of….surprise, surprise, nursery rhymes! 😀

There’s really nothing very interesting about it, is there?

Fortunately, here at A Wild Imagination, everything is interesting.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to recount history, nor am I going to argue that it is scientifically illogical, although I have partaken in both debates with friends passionately prior to this post. No, today we shall delve into something much more fascinating.

There is no doubt that the rhyme is famous; almost every child who attends Kindergarten must have learnt it at some point or another. We would have sung the rhyme together, and then fallen into peals of laughter. It is almost a reflex reaction to think of an egg (wearing fashionably distasteful clothes, I might add. No? That’s just me? Oh.) tumbling from the wall when someone mentions ‘Humpty Dumpty.’

Here’s something that will probably hit you like a hurricane and leave your mind in pieces you can’t put together, unless you’ve already figured it out.

Nowhere in the rhyme does it state that Humpty Dumpty is an egg.

Shocking, isn’t it? I didn’t believe it either. It was recently pointed out to me, and I scoffed then and there. I know it’s rude, but I couldn’t help it – of course Humpty must be an egg! For all that king-like grandiosity, I was handed a book of Mother Goose’s Rhymes, opened at Humpty Dumpty’s tale of tragic demise. I scanned through the poem, all the while thinking of proving my friend wrong yet another time, but alas! My indignation had a great fall.

Of course, I was (egg)shell-shocked for the next three hours, held in a state of disbelief. Everyone probably thought I was having a psychotic break, come to think of it. XD When I finally read through the rhyme a thousand times to satisfy myself, my curiosity emerged.

If there is no mention of Humpty being an egg, why do we all think he is one?

No doubt there was a long story behind it, and since I reached home late at night, I decided to leave it till the next morning. I needed my sleep. Yet my scumbag brain decides that although I’m extremely tired and sleepy, I must have a curiosity level that punches through the roof, and another question pops into my head.

Why did I not see this before?

Now this one was worth answering. Why did I allow the wool to be pulled over my eyes by Humpty in sheep’s clothing? Deep down, I knew I had the answer with me already. It was what I had been taught, and what I had grown up with. People told me that Humpty Dumpty was an egg at an age when I was extremely impressionable (I was also a bit of a cracked egg – still am), and the lesson stuck, till it fell apart that day.

I had taken the fact that Humpty was an egg for granted.

I must have read the rhyme a thousand times, but I never wondered about it. Partly because the answer was given to me beforehand, and partly because there was someone else who had done the thinking previously. Having gotten an answer, I thought to myself, “What if there are so many more things we are missing out on, simply because we’ve taken it for granted? Perhaps, we’ve relegated ourselves to believing the knowledge passed on, so that we won’t have to worry ourselves. Perhaps, we’ve lost our curiosity that helped us think and catch mistakes made.”

That loss of curiosity deprives us of a lot of things. There is a lot left to be discovered, but without curiosity they remain buried, and will soon be forgotten. There is a lot left unnoticed, and without thought, they will remain shadows in the fading light.

So, here’s to Humpty Dumpty and his classic tale that is not all that it’s cracked up to be. So, Humpty Dumpty, are you really a cracked egg? No matter, you’ll always be a good one!

In light of this recent realisation, I leave you with this parody that makes so much more sense:

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men,

Had scrambled eggs for breakfast again.

As always, read, enjoy, and stay happy! Scrambled thoughts? Leave them in the comments section below! I’d love to hear from you! 🙂

Catch you later!

Niru :).

I Ran Into A Brick Wall Today.

SLAM!

Ever heard of Murphy’s Law?

Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

I experienced the power of this law full-force today. It seemed like a chain of reactions – the first thing in the morning, something went wrong, and everything else that followed was on the flip-side. The thing is, I tend to get a little more negative about the rest of the day with every event that goes wrong, and it reached a point where I was questioning if the day could get any worse. What more could happen? No guesses as to the answer to that question.

“Yes Niru, your day is capable of getting worse.” answered the little voices in my head.

…They were right. :/

Excuse the lack of punctuation, but he does have a point.

You’d have thought that would have been the end of it. But no. I hit a brick wall of every negative emotion defined in the history of mankind; I ended up just accepting the fact that today would be a pathetic day and there was nothing I could about it but sit back and wallow morosely in my own pessimism. That’s when the light bulb in my head went off.

I was running away from my obstacles. 

I have always had a tendency to do that. Whenever I face a problem I think I am not capable of handling, I run the other way rather than confronting it upfront. Too bad I can’t outrun it. Plus, you know, that is the wrong way to approach life. The obstacle isn’t going to vanish on its own just because I keep hoping it will, if I never deal with it. I’ve got to try and make peace with it.

Let’s everybody just calm down – especially you, Mr. Problem.

I had been running from every uncomfortable situation that had cropped up throughout the day, convinced that Murphy’s Law would sabotage it. I didn’t give it a second look, or a second chance. Perhaps I should have, and the mere disruption in the Law’s plans would’ve dazed it enough for me to prove it wrong.

Most of all, I would’ve gained some of the confidence I had lost.

If I had not been looking over my shoulder when I was running away from the problems, I would not have hit the brick wall. If I had not hit the brick wall, I would not have been caught by a tumultuous wave of problems, entangled with one another while sprinting after me, adding a broken spirit and a panicked mind (Those things exist!) to my list of injuries.  If I had not been caught, I would have just kept running, and never learnt my lesson.

Yet I did get caught today, and I did learn something after reading this chapter of my life.

Life isn’t a race; it’s not our job to make it one. It isn’t a race to see who can outrun their problems the fastest – it’s a journey that is unique and shaped differently for everyone. 🙂 (We’ve all got different perceptions on life, and I’ve written about mine here – The Answer To Life, The Universe, And Everything.)

So no matter how scary it may seem, we have to address our problems whenever they come knocking at our doors, and send them on their way. There is no point in inviting them in for tea and trying to slip out of the back door. No, you’ll just get caught in the act and then you’ll have to face the mighty force of the problem’s wrath. 😀

The Law works only as long as I believe in it. I fell for the trick today, but you know what they say – once bitten, twice shy. Murphy’s Law can’t stop me if I don’t want it to. So the next time it decides to play a cruel trick on me, I’ll play a cruel trick on it. I’ll fight back, and prove to myself and others that no one needs to let an adage rule over a day, least of all over one’s life.

Have you ever had an encounter with Murphy’s Law, or any other adage? What did you think of the experience?

As always, stay happy, read, enjoy, like and comment! I’d love to hear from you!

Catch you later!

Niru 🙂

Seven Days Past; Twelve Months Future.

It’s 2015! 

Confetti! Maracas! Sombreros! 😀

…yes, I know it’s been a week. :/ Then again, it hasn’t completely sunk in either. The idea that we are now in the year 2015 is still partly incomprehensible to me. Case in point, the following conversation:

Me: Hey! What’s today’s date?

Friend: 6 January.

Me: Okay, thanks! *writes* 6….January…2014.

Friend: What’s wrong with you?

Me: (bewildered) Nothing?

Friend: Get your head out of the past – it’s 2015!

Me: What?! *frantically searches for a calendar* Oh. My. Goodness.

Friend: *laughs*

My point is, although I’ve experienced seven days of 2015, not once did I feel like a new year had begun. Without that feeling, there was no way I could have written a post on January 1, 2015 about the ‘high hopes I have for the coming twelve months.’ That’s because I didn’t have any.

Nope. So I decided to wait.

Now, I’m not saying we shouldn’t be optimists – for the love of puns, I am one myself – but stay with me for a minute. What does January 1 actually signify? It is the transition into another cycle of 365 days, but that doesn’t mean that the cycle starts over, does it? We don’t start each year from scratch, no matter how much we wish we could. I still had plenty of experiences from 2014 to deal with, as well as several incomplete tasks carried over to 2015. In my mind and heart, till I could finish with all of them, I was still living in 2014.

But today, a week later, I finally felt it. A little bit, but that’s more than enough for me.

I am in the year 2015. It’s a new year. 

It took me seven days, but I managed to wrap up 2014 and gear up for 2015. I do not know what brought on the sudden realisation, and why it happened today, of all days. I do not know a lot of things. All I do know is that I now have high hopes for the upcoming 358 days – which is the total number of days that 2015 has in my calendar. 

Alors! (Oops, a little French escaped. 🙂 ) A belated happy new year to everyone! 😀 I do hope your celebrations were fantastic, and that you’ve set up your resolutions.

Speaking of resolutions, I usually don’t make them. Yes. You heard me right. I know it might sound outrageous, but I have a good reason. At least, I think it’s good enough.

When I decide to do something, I do it – no matter what. However, more often than not, this happens circumstantially rather than deliberately to me. It is when I encounter a situation that calls for a ‘resolution’ that I make it.

Yet this year, I’ve read so many posts written by my blogger friends that inspired me to actually take up resolutions for 2015.

One of them is related to this blog, in fact. During 2014, my posting schedules were erratic, to say the least. No, they were chaotic. So this year –

Resolve: I, Niru, hereby solemnly resolve to post on A Wild Imagination at least two times a week.

There! It’s done! Now that I’ve taken a resolution, I’ll stick to it. 🙂

A huge thank you to WordPress, an enormous thank you to all my friends – bloggers and offline ones alike – a humongous thank you to my family, and a gigantic thank you to youfor sticking by me through the amazing year of 2014 (with its fair share of ups and downs)! I look forward to adventuring 2015 with you.

How did your 2015 begin? Any interesting resolutions out there?

Stay happy, and here’s to a wondrous 2015! As always, read, like and comment below – I’d love to hear from you!

With the first post of a new year, this is Niru, signing off till the next one!

Catch you later!

Niru 🙂