Books do silly things to us - they make us delve into them and they become a part of our life for the moment, just as we become narrators, observers and actors in their sagas. They make you think and drag out the memories from the deepest corners of your mind, irrespective of whether you are able to deal with those memories or not. Once, I was foolish enough to get married to a person who I did not even know well enough. I wanted to be everything - perfect wife, student, mother, daughter, executive... I can be any of these at any point of time, but I don't have to be everything at once, or I may never be able to enjoy the moment while it lasts. An innocuous little book dredged up this thought, making me remember what I fought so hard to forget; I forgot myself and who I was in that quest to forget.

I decided a long time ago that I would never be afraid of anything, ever. I sometimes forget this, but seeing someone else afraid of life always makes me remember it again. "Remember, remember, the 5th of November", said V, in his movie Vendetta. He drew inspiration from the courage of those who led the gunpowder revolt. I draw courage from the fact that I may never know when my life may end, when someone close to me may be snatched away and when the world may end. I shall never change, and I will always face my fears where they are worth facing; I will value my life and all the people who love me, and I will never, never give up on life or hope or love or trust.