25. Baby Steps

I was not even 10 properly when I first met Skanda Rimal. I wasn't friends with her until we were 12 but we became best friends only when we were 15. I have always known her to be a character. She would make a perfect way towards any story.

A person I was eyeing on to be my character wrote her first story when she was 16. I remember because I proofread it. I remember because I was so happy to get messy but beautifully handwritten 8 pages of paper. She trusted me to critique her first story but my reactions to it back then were harsh.

Her story seemed like a first personal draft. I instructed her to rewrite it.

"It's a beautiful story but it's not written well."

That's what I told her 5 years ago. She never rewrote it, even if she did, I never got to read it. But what I have noticed in her, all these years is her willingness to learn . She is a living example behind the words, writing is a process.

She would ask me to correct her captions, ask for synonyms and the usage of words in a sentence. Her process started with Facebook captions, made its way to Instagram captions and now, she is writing more than just a sentence.

Her birthday wish for me felt special this year. "Did you write them on your own?" I even showed my skepticism but those beautifully crafted handful of words felt so perfectly put together, didn't feel like they were coming from my old friend.

I was left stunned the other day when I read the words written on her display picture. I read it twice before she asked me. "Why aren't you saying anything about my dp?" Because she knows how much I like beautiful things.

"Did you write it on your own?" This time I was more excited than skeptic.

It read:

"She fell in love. She fell in love with December. She fell in love with the fallen dried maple leaves, foggy morning,gloomy noon, orange dusk and breezy night, warm sweater, long boots and hot cup of coffee. But one day, like the other things in life, December left. December left like others but unlike other things it did return to her again."

Somewhere between the lines, I remember why I have always seen her as a character. Because like a hero, she refuses to give up. She puts an effort to move further and I know she won't stop until she finally succeeds.

24. Story Time

"Who lives in the cave, darling?" I asked with excitement.

"A big lion?" he seemed unsure. "And also his Papa." His looked away through the window.

 "And?" I tried to distract him. "And there was also a dragon. He was small but strong. He could throw water from his mouth." He was adding details to the story, I smiled at the thought.

"Like Squirtle?" I quickly made the connection. 

"Who?" He didn't know Pokemon. 

"Nothing. You continue with what you saw." I encouraged his lie.

"They fought. Lion was very big. Dragon was small. Dragon lost and baby dragon cried." He sounded sad. 

"There was also a baby dragon?" I was excited about this new character. 

"Yes, yes. There was a baby dragon which was very small." He stopped telling the story. 

"So that's it? That's all you saw?" I wanted to listen more of it. 

"Yes." He said and smiled at me. 

"But I don't understand, this baby dragon you talk about, was it the same size as Papa dragon?" I desperately wanted him to continue. 

"Yes, about same. Baby dragon was growing fast you know, but it hadn't learnt to throw water from his mouth just yet." I tried my best not to correct him. I was only seconds away from bringing up fire when he continued. 

"So this dragon dies and baby dragon cries. And Elephant attacks the baby dragon with its truck." His hands made a truck like symbol and he swept away everything from the table beside him. I made a face but didn't bother to rearrange the objects lying on the floor. 

"There is an elephant?" At this point, I was genuinely interested. 

"Of course." he rolled his eyes. 

"The elephant attacked the baby dragon but Papa lion saved him because baby dragon was friends with baby lion." He was still looking outside the window. It looked like, he was trying really hard to remember. 

"That was really sweet of him, hai? The Papa lion?" I asked him with smile. 

"What?" he asked again. 

"Nothing, so that's that right? A dragon, baby dragon, a lion, baby lion and elephant? Dragon dies and what about elephant? What happens to him?" He took few seconds before he spoke. 

"He dies. Dragon and lion killed him together." He said it, simply. 

"But wasn't dragon dead already?" He realized he had made a mistake but I liked how he didn't want to correct it. 

"You haven't been listening properly." He sounded upset. "Only elephant dies. Dragons don't die." He rolled his eyes. 

"Okay." I dare not ask anymore questions. However, I made the final confirmation. "That's all you saw in the cave?" He thought for a while.

"Yes.... Dijju, can I turn on the TV?" He was already running toward the living room. 

"Sure, what do you want to watch?" I smiled picking up remote from the floor.

23. The Fit

He only knew how to love her. He didn't know how to show it. He didn't buy her beautiful gifts, nor did he help her in her housework. But you could frequently find him gazing her from afar. Trying to make sense of the feelings he felt towards her. Trying to find answers of why the dull looking eyes surrounded by heavy bags didn't bother him.

Something unlikely sparked in his heart every time he saw her. The feeling of unconventional happiness and immense love. He couldn't dare look away from her. Her not so captivating smile meant the world to him.

Only years later, he decided to do something about it. He wanted to show her love. The love he now not knew how to control. His eyes showed the passion and the actions its outcome. Learning to live for her didn't seem like he was cheating with his own life. Learning to cook, learning to watch reality shows didn't seem as dramatic.

He wanted to see the world from her eyes and in many times she reciprocated. She would wear the mismatching pair of socks in early winter morning just so that she could join him for the run. She smiled with her empty tummy and sacrificed her hour of sleep for what she felt was more important. She spent her time to love him.

Both of them only later realized how simple love was and how they had complicated it all these years, trying to find flaws in it rather than the fines. All that was needed was the willingness to love each other, no matter what life threw in their face.

Sure, there were days when she snoozed the alarm and he burnt the food but what helped them get through was a smile, an argument and most importantly the understanding of the fact that, if it weren't for one of them, how dull another one's life would be. 

22. Music Magic

I have a long relationship with music and songs.

I cannot tell you about the technical aspects of music. I don't know how to play any instrument. I have hard time determining what genre the song falls into. But I have been absolutely stunned by the power of music ever since I was a kid.

Back then, my favorite music used to be a jingle from condom commercial (yes, you read that right). I would always question my parents for scolding me while singing the jingle in front of house guests. Like any human relationships, I questioned my first crush. I feared the relationship as if I was doing something wrong, something I was not supposed to do.

As the years passed by my relationship with music only grew stronger. Nepali rock and pop music were at its peak back then. I spent my preteens waiting for The Countdown Show in Nepal Television at 8.10 in the morning. My relationship with Nepali music took a turn when Sandip from Axix/s band waved at me. I still remember singing their Adhuro Prem until my throat hurt. Preet ko Nasha by Cobweb is hands down the most romantic song I have ever listened in my entire life. 1974 A.D.'s Chari is still my favorite"go-to" cry song. 

During my early teens I was obsessed with Simple Plan. I knew every lyric from their album No Pads, No Helmets...Just balls. My taste of music slowly changed from puck rock to rock and alternative rock music with time but my first love will always remain Simple Plan. I still cry when they release their new song. I appreciate their loyal small fan base and am so proud to be a part of it. Like most human relations, I don't regret my first love. They are one of a kind. My favorite kind. I will love them always and forever.

In recent years I have stopped being picky about the kind of music I listen to. I started listening to anything and everything that made me feel good. Made me feel things, I didn't know I was capable of feeling. Love, sadness, anger, vengeance. Ed Sheeran made me feel love even when I was not in love. Beyonce made me feel empowered. Coldplay made me happy. 

My life has now been all about songs. I mightn't always listen to the mainstream songs. The songs everyone knows about but I have a list of songs that make me feel good. The songs I only listen to because I like that one line which I can relate to. The songs my friends asked me to listen. The songs I listen to for the first time. The songs I genuinely love and the songs I am embarrassed to love. 

People say, we are what I listen to. If that's true, all I can say about myself considering the songs I listen to is: I am me and I am not afraid of others. 

21. Out and About

For the first time after years, I saw something different in her eyes. The want to change and be better for no one but herself. The illegible handwriting in the pages of her journal told so much about her than her finely worn clothes. She was on a mission to be more of herself and less of what the world wanted her to be.

She smiled at her own jokes and didn't feel guilty about it. She laughed at idiocy and didn't feel mean about it. Maybe that was a part of her problem earlier. She had been feeling too much. Even during the times when it was wise to avoid. She was feeling the unnecessary pain of people who were capable of taking care of themselves.

Time guided her to clarity. She understood, there was nothing wrong in being kind but there was everything wrong with how she had been treating herself just to be kind. Kindness had the price to pay and she paid it all. She paid it with everything she'd ever had and so much more. She paid it till there was nothing left for her.

Her emotions ran short and feelings became blessings. A smile, a laugh, a thought all of them together became blessings to start over all new. All pumped up to participate in the race which she called living; she ran but she was already caught up in the vicious cycle of emotions which were soon set to disappear.

At times, she thanked god for her body, the well functioning tears which without any warning kept rolling down her cheeks. A lump in her throat which didn't leave her alone. The symbolical additions to her understanding of weakness. Her precious little heart had felt dead for more than just a moment. Only tears made her feel alive.

When others saw her, it was only the act she was putting up. A loving family, healthy relationships what more did she need anyway? She had all the ingredients to cook the perfect dish of happiness. She was only putting up a show really, but what people didn't understand was, some recipes don't add up.

Some recipes don't matter. What's required is the secret ingredient, an affection put along with all the ingredients. While she was surrounded by the people who loved and cared for her;  her affection towards herself was missing. Never to be found. Not until she taught herself to love again.

20. 25 Questions: How to Give Up on Your Dreams

What is he going to say?

What is she going to think of me?

But no one else has done it before?

Why has no one done it yet?

Is this bound to be a failure?

Are others going to help me get there?

Who are my people and who are against me?

Why is anyone even against me?

What have I done wrong?

Should I have talked differently to her the other day?

Does he think I am still a loser because I tripped over?

Are they going to think of me as a cry baby?

Do first impression even matter?

Let's see what was my first impression of him?

Has it changed?

How long did it take for me to change my impression of him?

Is it going to be same for him?

When was the last time I had succeeded?

Was there even the time I have ever succeeded?

What did others think of me back then?

Does my hard work even matter?

Is success a myth?

But I have seen people succeed effortlessly.

Does hard work even count or is it all luck?

Am I lucky enough?

Where do I find luck?

19. The Story of a Wanderer

An artist. A dancer.

Her sketches portray hard work. With her perfect detailing, she gives off an impression of a perfectionist and she is synonymous to patience. When she dances, she makes me want to be a dancer myself. She looks happy when she dances. I have always wanted to be happy like that.

A confused being with questions on her mind. Questions, she doesn't know where she can find answers of. A broken heart which is still to be mended, hidden behind beautiful smiles. A voice that wants to be listened. A girl who is too afraid to dream.

I listen to her stories of friendship, happiness, love and sadness. She teaches me patience. She teaches me the secret to happy life and healthy relationships. She is mastering the art of living and seems to be oblivious about the achievement.

One thing which stroked me most about her is her quest to find herself. She was in search of spirituality. She was looking for herself and not the supernatural bodies, behind the pages of holy books. She was as confused as each one of us about her existence. She had questions and she was making attempts to find answers to them.

She isn't as much a perfectionist as I thought she was. She has changed my idea of taking my time to do things perfectly. Putting the work out there as soon as possible without compromising on hard work is one thing I want learn from her. This discovery also earned her respect from my side because her perseverance has already taught her to put up a top class output efficiently.

Despite what she is capable of I could see the fear radiating through her eyes. The fear looked similar to uncertainty. She was deprived of trying to do new things all her life so much that she feared whether she was doing the right thing. She tags along like the perfect sidekick as one could be but fails to see her potentiality of becoming the leader herself.

And where all the world might seem far ahead of her, she is catching up. Even though she started late, she is catching up to surpass everyone who stands in front of her and her next project. The project is her next big thing. She isn't much of a dreamer as she is the realist. And with her every new big project she is conquering the world around her.

She is as difficult as I make her sound. She is like a tangled earpiece. One would have to make an effort to untangle but she was worth the hassle. I am taking my time with her, myself. I quietly observe her from afar, afraid I am going to break her balance if I push her too hard.

18. Wisely Choose Your Idol

Ever happened that you finally decide to look up to someone, name them your idol and one day they insult you in front of strangers, tear down all what is left of your confidence and smile at you like nothing has happened?
I am not about hard love. I can never look back at you the same way and I find it disturbing how you set my impression in front of those strangers. It's particularly disturbing how I wasn't at fault and the amount of influence you had on those strangers is going to change my impression on them as well.
I will never forgive you for all the time I spent on my room regretting trying to change, to get along with people. I will not be able to get inspired by others the same way because I am going to remember this very time being inspired by you has cost me regret and self doubt.
Your one insult has made me realize how I was right all along. How I shouldn't have changed, never talked to new people and let me be on my own. Not trying at all. I hate how much I didn't want to be right.
After what you did to me, the one person I see most at fault is myself. I shouldn't have regarded you as an angel. I don't think it was right of me to listen to your advice. I guess, I was too naive. I never thought you could do any wrong to me. I was blinded by your confidence and charisma. Maybe your sweet talk made me feel good. Your remarks on my work made them feel worthy of my time. Maybe I was getting carried away by your charm and politeness.
I was mistaken to believe that you were perfect and you meant no harm to me or my mental health. But all these beliefs have led me to this immense pain I feel inside of me right now. Months have passed by but I am unsure about myself. I am not sure if my work is any good anymore. I miss you at times. I miss how I could ask you for advice when it came to my work. I miss the person I thought you were.
But more than what I miss, I struggle with forgiveness. I struggle to forget. Neither has been kind to me so far. Your words pinches my heart every time I think of it. My eyes were filled with tears then. They still do now.
So, don't be surprised when I don't smile back anymore. Hurt has affected me and pierced my heart in the most ugly way possible. But I wish you well in all your endeavors. I see you changing people's life, everyday which makes me happy. You have changed mine too but I see myself as your failed project.

17. Takeaways: Finding Dory

Who is Dory?

Dory is a crazy little fragment inside all of us. She is sassy, fun, confident and absolutely insane. She is the side of us who scares the other bits of us. Dory is the Dionysian side of Nietzsche’s Birth of Tragedy. She is about passion and all she knows is to keep swimming.

When I entered the cinema hall to watch Finding Dory, I wasn’t expecting much. I surely wasn’t expecting to learn. I went there for Ellen Degeneres (the voice of Dory). She has done a great job. And I cannot think of better voice than Ellen for Dory. Ellen is all about Dory.

Dory is a blue tang fish and she has short term memory loss. She loses her parents as a child and the story starts when she finally remembers she has a family and she misses them. It’s a heart warming story of a fish who realizes what it’s like to miss for the first time and goes on a journey to look for it.

Finding Dory is about life. It’s about finding our origin and rediscovering our actual self. Finding Dory awakens the Dory in us, we often forget about.

In life, there is at least one place we can always go back to. Our home. Home is safe, beautiful and always welcoming. The essence of having a home ignites because it is the only place we can go back to when we are lost.

If you have a home, you will never lose yourself.

The home comprises people you can always count on. They will love you no matter what you do and who you have become. Home is one thing you will never forget. And if it’s a home, you will always find your way back.

Finding Dory illustrates friends as the other family. They are not related to you by blood but that doesn’t make them less of a family. In life, there are people who will always love you, support you and never let you down.

The people who will agree with your crazy ideas because they don’t know how not to believe. Friends who love you so much, they are conditioned to support you no matter what you decide to do.

Along the journey of life, you will also make acquaintances, they don’t know your back story. But there are people who are always willing to help. The world is full of good people and most of the times we fail to see because we are so afraid to ask them for their help and help them back.

Finding Dory is about enjoying the little things in life, even when you are struggling to remember what keeps you happy. It’s about believing in your destiny when things go out of control.

The movie highlights the need to keep swimming, to keep moving. To keep believing the Dory in us. She, who often talks nonsense but makes so much sense.

Make mistakes but correct them and never ever stop swimming.

So, next time you are lost, ask yourself, ‘What would Dory do?’

Do not be afraid to do things that don’t make sense. Live and let yourself enjoy as a normal human being, flawed with scars and beautiful.

16. Courage

Entrepreneurship.

A fancy word which is difficult to pronounce and has equally difficult meaning.

I have been studying Entrepreneurship as a part of my school curriculum for at least 3 hours a week for months now. I might not know a lot about it but one thing that I have learnt from each class is the importance of courage.

Courage which will push you through every failure. The same courage that directs you and takes you a long way.

Courage, I learnt was the leader in me.

I knew I wanted to be an entrepreneur ever since I was 13. I wanted to do something new, change the world. I didn't have the dream to be famous but I had always wanted everyone to recognize my work. Yeah! Sounds contradictory to me as a grown up. But defining my take on what I want from entrepreneurship is now my easy problem.

Difficult ones are the harsh reality of the world. The lessons I learnt, in and outside the class.

In the class, I was advised to network and make a team. For someone who struggles to make friends and loves to work alone, this turned out to be my first big problem. My unwillingness to change, I realized will turn out to be a problem in long run.

I was only starting to wrap my head around this thought when I was hit hard by the outside world. The outside seemed scarier than the inside. I even wished my problems to be limited only to me dealing with strangers.

However, outside made me realize, I would have to fight with my own people to fulfill my dreams. My friends and family. They were likely to act as a barrier between me and my dreams and I would have to make a choice.

The realities were hazing my brain. They were overwhelming. Maybe I learnt too much at once but the realization didn't stop me.

I grabbed numerous books and engrossed myself into the stories of success and failures behind entrepreneurship. Books were my happy place and I was sure they were going to save me. But the more I learnt about entrepreneurship the scarier it looked.

I learnt, there are only few who smile at your accomplishments but a lot more who laugh at your failure. I was afraid to be a failure. I didn't have the tenacity. I was afraid to make a team and give up on people. I was too afraid to make entrepreneurship possible.

But soon I realized, more than anything else, I was afraid to give up on my childhood dreams.

To sum up, the great stories and lessons did teach me few things. Maybe I am not ready, maybe I am over thinking. Maybe textbooks aren't always right, and maybe I am an exception.

A lot of possibilities seem likely but I will never know until I put on the shoes and walk ahead. For now, I can always wish things to go alright. Be ready to fail and learn to let go.

For now, all I can do is learn to be myself.

15. Please Like Me

How often do you fall in love?
How often do you fall in love with a TV series?
How often do you re-watch the same episodes again and again until you begin to question your sanity?

I am not really a TV show lover. I admit, I loved F.R.I.E.N.D.S. but I wasn't in love with it. TV shows are something I watch when I am bored, they are not like books, neither are they like anime for me. I don't spend my time thinking about them. The characters are pretty simple and there isn't much left for the imagination.

I was sure, I couldn't fall in love with a TV series until one fine morning, I was suggested to watch Please Like Me by a friend. Being the lazy I am, I put off to watch the show for quite some time. Being a complainer I am, I complained about the first few episodes and kept watching it just because my friend wanted me to and then just like that, after some more episodes I realized I had started to fall in love with it.

I was in love with Josh and Arnold; the sweet, awkward and romantic love they shared. I could relate to the awkwardness. I loved how they were unsure about themselves and people around them. The series felt real than the reality itself. The creator and writer, Josh used no filter, didn't sugarcoat the truth and showed me the mirror of the actual society.

I googled Please Like Me and found very little about it. Since there wasn't much I could learn about the show's behind the scenes, I was intrigued about it even more.

I went on twitter. It worked better for me than google. People were talking about Josh, Tom, Claire and Arnold with #Pleaselikeme. I knew these characters, I loved these characters. So, I joined the conversation.

A recurring tweet said, the show was very Australian. One might have expected it since it is an Australian series but for me, despite belonging to a different continent, Please Like Me is a series I can relate to in the most intimate level.

I was now in desperate search of the secret which laid behind the show's spellbinding character. The secret was Josh Thomas. He is inspiring, creative and full of fun and imagination. Though he mentions, the show is vaguely about his life and he plays himself in Please Like Me. I think it takes more than just talent to make us relate to it. After watching all of his available interviews, I can't wait for Season 4.

Re-watches after Re-watches. I need to stop.

14. Meet Prashanta Sir

In one of his initial classes, our group had to position Prashanta Sir's class during a presentation.

Riju had come up with the term,

'Experience Based Learning.'

The positioning couldn't have been more appropriate.

.

I had second thoughts before I started to write this post. And that's exactly why I am writing it.

Teachers are interesting personalities. They are all so different from one another and all the same at the same time. And we students, don't like them much. Anyone of them. Sometimes, I feel like it's a universal rule; in order to be a good student, you can't like a teacher. If you do, something is wrong with you and the whole student society will disown you.

I have always been rigid about my principles and not liking a teacher was something I believed in from the very beginning of my life. Teachers never liked me and the feeling was mutual. I never hated them but I didn't feel the need to like them either.

But it was after the first class of fifth semester that my foundation of this strong belief was shaken. Thanks to Prashanta Sir.

Six months ago, Wednesday morning, at 10:30 exactly, a teacher entered a class with a big smile on his face. He was wearing a white plain bottom up shirt and a black pant. I looked at him from top to bottom. The way everyone else were doing, my eyes judging him.

My prejudice got good of me. I made up my mind instantly, he was the kind of teacher who is going to be all too friendly and smiley at the first day but as days pass by, he is going to want us to respect him, believe his theories and his understanding on the subject matter.

He looked at us and smiled. I wasn't going to fall in the trap of his smile. I was too intelligent for that. I didn't even smile back. I acted hostile towards him and he hadn't even begin to speak.

He finally spoke, I still remember the first sentence he had said but I don't want to disclose the words here. I wouldn't want to ruin the fun and surprise of being in the class of one of my favorite teachers. His sentence changed everything. With his very first sentence, he earned himself an admirer. I started to think otherwise about teachers.

For the next one and half hours, I rested my hands on my chin and listened to him talk. I let my prejudice aside after few minutes. I read him again, this time based on his talks, words and stories. At the end of the class I was engrossed in his stories, so much that I couldn't come up with the conclusion as to what I felt about him. My thoughts were in disagreement with my beliefs. I was having an episode of attitude dissonance.

"He is not like every other teacher, you see. He is like a big brother. He tells stories" I finally concluded after the second day after his first class, in conversation with my best friend.

Despite the conclusion I had come up with, I wasn't expecting much from his second class. As a good student, I had learned to set low to no expectation from a teacher. Maybe his first day energy will drain up or worse what he was like in the first day was just an act. It was natural of me to have second thoughts and doubts.

He was however, successful to keep his first impression intact.

Throughout his classes for six months. I never felt like talking to a friend in the middle of the class. I would pick a discussion with him instead. I didn’t always agree with him and he didn't have a problem with it and that's what made him a good teacher.

He would listen to us. Let us know when he disagreed, cleared out misunderstandings (if any) but he never imposed his thoughts upon us. Unlike most teachers, he agreed to the possibility of having more than one right answer to a question. 

Not only was he a good teacher, he was also helpful as a person. We would go up to him with a problem and he was always ready to help. He would give us ideas and options to tackle through the problems. The fact that he made us feel comfortable enough to share our problems with him says a lot about him as a person. He helped us with the problems which didn't even have to with marketing.

Having said all these, most important questions however remain unanswered. Did he really meet the major objective of being a good teacher and did I really learn in his class? 

Most of what I learn ends with the final semester examination but this is not the case with marketing. I remember values whenever I see an old motorcycle. I remember offerings when I come across the post of motivational speaker. I remember trade off when I have to choose between chocolates. I remember the Omega watch. I remember the 'late night chats'. I remember the importance of experience. I remember the neon lights. I remember that just because I am different doesn't make me important. I remember all of his examples.

I try to understand why certain advertisements are made certain way and not the other way. Every time I turn on my TV, I try to figure out who the target audience is. I understand why some commercials are so colorful and others so dull. I understand why a certain personality is brand ambassador of a certain brand and not the other brand. I understand why Wai Wai came up with the 'Is your child a Wai Wai kid?' promotion strategy.

I am someone who had zero bit interest in marketing and despite that I have taken away a lot from his class. He is an amazing teacher and I feel, he fails to understand it at times.

Second page of our marketing textbook quotes one of the marketing directors of P&G Company,

"If one were to make a bet, smart money is on building relationship with the customers."

As an educator, that’s exactly what Prashanta Sir did and I would like to say he was successful in building good and strong relationships with his students.

13. Let's Talk Anime

Anime has always been my favorite study place. I learn about personalities, happiness, power, drive and so much more. Anime characters are my favorite people to hang out with. I learn from them, the thing society and school never felt were important enough to be taught. They teach me how to live. Anime teach me how to face problems and to get through them. They teach me various aspects of life.

Anime might not seem like a big of a deal to people who don't watch it. But a lot of hard work is put into the making of them. There are number of people who are responsible to make the characters moving in the screen. What's put in it is creativity, imagination and hours of hard work. From mangakas (artists) to developers, everybody puts their thought and action to make it work.

These people know they want to change lives. They work continuously to achieve this goal and have been successful in doing so.

I have often been asked how can an animation inspire me, make me cry or touch my life. I don't know how to answer that question exactly. I suggest you watch them and experience the intensity an anime holds, first hand. Understand the power which makes the significant change in the lives of many. Personally though, to put it simply, I would have to say, it's the imagination. Anime triggers my lazy mind to imagine. Unlike the popular belief, anime are sometimes difficult to understand. This triggers my brain to think harder and see things from various perspectives.

It's the whole another world for me, it's the world of happiness. The world where people speak the language I don't understand but I am always willing to listen to them. The world where sometimes they mess up with the subtitles but I try to understand what's been going on watching their faces and expressions.

Anime is so much more than just a "Cartoon". It's a lifestyle.

12. Little Girl (Part 1/5)

Once upon a time, in a far away village lived a little girl. Little girl had a little sister and wonderful parents. She loved to read and dance. Once in a while, she liked to play with mama's make up. She used to put on generous amount of blush on her cheeks and eye-shadow above her eyelids. Mama used to laugh at little girl's failed attempt to put on the make up.

'I am going to be an artist one day mama.' she said while mama wiped off her makeup.

Mama always answered with a smile.

Little girl had a little dog, they had named him Ginger after his favorite breakfast, ginger bread. They had found Ginger in the street one cold evening. Papa brought him home to help him escape cold. He lived with the family ever since. Ginger loved hot bath. He was a naughty dog and was spoiled by everyone in the family.

Little girl had an easy life. Papa read her bed time stories to help her sleep. She was a curious child. She used to ask a lot of questions. Papa answered all of them, patiently.

Mama sometimes joined but she wasn't a good reader. She had great imagination, though. She used to make up stories and everyone listened to it curiously. Even Ginger used to stop playing and used to sit beside little girl to hear mama's stories. Papa would ask a lot of questions to mama. He often joked, the reason why he married mama was because she was a good story teller.

Everyone used to laugh at papa's jokes even if they weren't funny. It made papa happy and seeing papa happy made everyone happier.

Little girl's sister was only two. She would always cry but she was loved the most in the family. Little girl used to repeat mama's stories to her sister. Her little sister didn't like the stories. It made her cry even more.

Maybe she was telling the stories, the wrong way. The thought hit little girl's mind one day.