Jefin Joseph

Atheist, Brainstormer, Foodie, Social entrepreneur, Student, Writer/Editor

You know that feeling when you are at an eatery, where at the catty-corner there is someone munching on french fries with red caps? That could be anyone. But, if he is with someone as gleeful as himself, you might as well notice that custom, crowded grin in between those bloody bites. Later, when you do find him alone, take a fleeting peek at the poker face he has smeared on. This time, there is more to it. He probably fidgets with his phone, makes occasional notes, swivels around a bit, and the munches never stop. His eyes are darting and fixated, at the same time. They seek out inspiration and ideas and insights for his up and coming blog, his social initiatives with the United Nations Academic Impact programme, or, his pursuits with FestFlick. Sometime into the conversation with him, there may come bland references to his schooldays. The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, amid all those classic dunes, makes the prevailing backdrop. Your curiosity, will whisk the lather that could slip him into a reminiscence of yesterdays. Watch out, they do not close easy. If this fits the description of the guy sitting there, you go ahead and grab ahold. He may put up a fight. He's ticklish at his tummy. Use that. And, tell him anything that might make distant sense, and will take the bait too easily. Somewhat. Well, it is obvious now. Is it not? But, for the love of theatrics - that guy was me. Ta-da!? P.S. I normally do not wear sunglasses. I like my world vivid. However, the grin stays. Almost always. :D

Food. Maybe, it is because I am still single, or maybe it is the entire cause for me being single. I find food, as my first love. I like them steaming, simmering, sweet, savory, bitter, gooey.

It was one yellow evening, and I was slouched on my worn out divan. The day had been as routine* as it could possibly be. My head, at first engaged in reading bits, suddenly felt that this was not where it should be. 'Imagine the possibilities' my intuition told me. Check. 'You might as well make something on your own. Something new.' It was quick to add. That became the tipping point. Soon enough, my sallow head unknowingly drifted away. I can still remember myself fumbling in midst of the shemozzle of thoughts. Some time back, a personal blog was the dream. This was it. I was going to kick off a blog. It became my new distraction. So, I scoured the web for an amazing name to christen my spur-of-the-moment. 'A name that is relatable, unique and creative,' I heard myself think. The sky had turned topaz by then. After sixty or so desperate trials for a suitable name, I was drained. Exhausted, yet triumphant. The name juggled around in my ball of a head. Presto! It provided a cue; this cue honed an idea, and the idea forms the ostensible theme of my blog in the making. Many a times, we hear people suggesting that we must embrace our own self, in all its colours and irregularities. Those perfect imperfections. Wow! To me, this meant that I could finally stay as myself, and live to love it. As a matter of fact, this became the rhythm to my conclusions in an article on happiness. I no longer feel the same. 'Be yourself.'  Somehow, I continuously feel that this phrase drags along a heap of ambiguity. Take Kevin for instance. In my head, I see Kevin as a great guy who is in parts lazy and lousy and pudgy. I have nothing against his pudginess, although it could be difficult for him to button his pants. Anyway, would Kevin be better off if he decides to outgrow his lazy and lousy self? Or, should he stay true to himself, and allow his life to go down the keeling? As we wake everyday, some parts of us always change**. I read a book, and I may change. Watching movies, reading a books, going places, listening to music, hearing others talk - all of them prime change in us. If my memories, impressions, feelings, choices, likes, dislikes and ambitions could be assorted varying tones and shapes, my mosaic of life today is inarguably different from what I must have had five years back. They could be similar. That is all. This one is bigger, more vivid, a little tarnished. Keep the former on the left. Right should do for the latter. See the gaping differences, soak in the irony. I did. And, I was no longer me, thankfully. Is it bad? Well, that depends. Every moment, we keep detaching from our current selves, one way or another. Everytime we step out of our comfort zones, we change. Every second we stay in our comfort zones, we still change. But, in a messy way. Our extent of stagnation is on the climb - still change. Think about it. Besides, we are great at using the 'being ourselves' trump card to resent change. In my case, when somebody asks me to sing a song, in public, I cringe***. Inside me, I reason with my encouraging conscience that singing on stage is not me, although I do croon like a lot in the shower. Where does that leave me? This transience may be something you or I could be in dire need of. But, as long as we cling to our old selves, positive change is forever kept at bay. It is about time that we show who is the boss, and flush out that sense being-myself-inertia, and piece together a more brilliant mosaic. Something better. Something that is no longer you. It works like a charm. True story. I like to think that this is an idea worth spreading. *(My routine features me in ill-fitting loungewear, trying to read a bit.) **(Change could be short-lived or, it might as well be in for the long haul.) ***(On a sidenote, singing is not really a speciality. I kind of suck at it.)

Creative writing, Documentation