Click here to Download This is Not Your Story PDF Book by Savi Sharma Language English having PDF Size 1 MB and No of Pages 125.
I was excited at the thought of sharing my dreams with my parents. My mom has always been a loving and gentle woman. A petite woman – far shorter than my dad and I she was encouraging of what I did for the most part, and put my own wellbeing far above her own many times. Housework, cooking, and attending to me made her content.
This is Not Your Story PDF Book by Savi Sharma
| Name of Book | This is Not Your Story |
| PDF Size | 1 MB |
| No of Pages | 125 |
| Language | English |
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Her smile never failed to cheer me up, and the contrast she held to her husband, my dad, was like a light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. She created warmth, and with a kiss she could cure a child’s injury without ever expecting a thank you for the miracles of motherhood that she performed. As for my dad, he was an orthodox man in both appearance and action.
He was a firm believer in letting things off your chest, but he was infamous for asking questions that made you second-guess your decisions. I would cringe at the thought of not meeting his approval in my choices and actions. The intense stare from those brown eyes would hit me, making me feel as if my belly was flopping down onto the cold, marble floor. His mouth would move with precision to slam me with questions to encourage me to think things through.
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I knew that this was his way of showing me he cared about my future, but his questions stripped me of creativity, imagination, and, more times than I could count, my dreams as a child and adult. His words fell from his lips in two manners: an elected official, or a priest. Sitting across the table from him added to the anxiety wrapping itself around the joints of my knees and elbows.
My mom’s spoon clacked against the pot with each scoop she served on the plates before us. She settled in her seat, and I remembered to breathe for a second. In my head I was trying to figure out how to start. Do I ask for their attention first? Or should I just blurt out my dream? No, maybe I should at least announce where I plan to go. My decision does require that I leave Jaipur, leave them far behind
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The thudding of my heart made my chest ache; my palms were cold with sweat, and again I had to remind myself to breathe. Had I only taken two breaths since I’d sat at the dinner table under my dad’s watchful eye? The drum beat on the second hand of the clock in the classroom. I found the discussions on Advanced Auditing a cruel taskmaster to my morale.
Unfortunately, I needed the subject and lectures to prep for the final exams. The professor was dragging all of us through the different auditing methods, giving us real-world scenarios, and making us work through them. Gruelling as it was, it was a good exercise. But I was disconnected from the words coming from the mouth of the man in front of the chalkboard. Every move and note I took was mechanical, emotionless.
Chairs screeching against the floor woke me from my trance. Class had finally ended. I was eager to go home, shut myself in a room where I could truly be alone. Riding through the streets, numbers and charts still echoed through my mind. My shoulders felt lighter with each gear shift of the bike under my feet, but the sting of mental exhaustion grew thicker. I was tired, and the thought that the day was still not over pulled me down. This is Not Your Story PDF Book
The idea of studying alone tripled the burnt, muddled sensation in my head, which was throbbing and begging for sleep. Blinking, trying to keep my eyes open, I realized I had made it home. The buildings, people, cars and fellow bikers were all a blur and forgotten. Parking the bike and switching off the engine, I continued to sit on my bike, leaning on the handles. I closed my eyes, wondering if anyone would make a fuss if I slept there.
The sounds of my neighbour talking hit my ears. I looked up to her veranda and saw that she was talking with a girl I hadn’t seen before, but I was far too tired to engage in conversation. The idea of a shower and bed finally won me over and I pulled myself off my bike. The world around me remained out of focus as I walked up the stairs on automatic. One foot on a step, I sighed with my shoulders slumped.
It was agonizing to know I still had to go up the steps, even though I was fine on a physical level. Willing myself, I started the climb; the motivation was the promise of being home and the torture of class temporarily ended. She began to outline her hopes and goals for the future. As she put words to those dreams, I became enraptured by the pure joy, the utter excitement that threaded through her aspirations. This is Not Your Story PDF Book
I heard letters: MBA. MNC. It was like listening to a beautiful song; the kind that could make you weep with appreciation. I blinked quickly, realizing that tears were starting to gather in my own eyes at her excitement. Her words were filled with so much confidence, so much optimism. I was proud of her for having such a solid goal and not being afraid to go after it. At the same time, my own frustrations came to the surface again.
I took a long sip of my coffee while I brought my emotions back in check. lowered my cup and met her eyes once again. She laughed, a little self-consciously. “They probably sound silly to you, though,’ she said. “No,” I said, shaking my head passionately. ‘They are perfect. They reflect you.’ Our eyes locked and held there for a long moment and I could start to see other dreams gathering in hers-dreams she had not given voice to. Could she see me as part of those wistful, secret plans?
I cleared my throat. My eyes fell away from hers as I quickly grasped for a new topic of conversation. ‘So, after the kitchen, which room will you renovate next?” Furrowing her brow, she sighed at the sudden change of topic. ‘We are still finishing the final touch-ups on the designs but my mom wants her bedroom to be done next.’ This is Not Your Story PDF Book
“Where will your mom sleep while her room is being renovated?’ I was relieved Kasturi had accepted the change in topic; I aimed to walk away from my hidden ambitions for the time being. ‘I doubt she will accept sleeping on the couch.” Today was an interesting day. Aunty asked me to go to Shaurya’s place. His mom has wallpaper in her room that Aunty loves and would like to have in her own bedroom after the renovation.
I’d met Shaurya’s mom once before when she came over to visit to see the work done so far, but I was still a little scared to go alone, to be honest. However, Shaurya’s mom is so sweet and gentle. I was happy to see Shaurya wasn’t home. The wallpaper in her room was interesting. I made sure to sketch it out since I hadn’t seen that pattern before, not even in the large stores back in Mumbai.
When I told her I was done, she insisted I look at the wallpaper in Shaurya’s bedroom. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and anyway Aunty had made it clear that if I could take a look at all the rooms, I should bring some sketches back to her. Shaurya’s room wasn’t what I expected. I would have imagined it to be more reflective of someone studious, with stacks of books everywhere and motivational posters all over his walls. This is Not Your Story PDF Book Download
Instead, I found nothing more than an organized bookshelf and a single empty frame on the wall. Besides that, I was surprised to see photography magazines, CDs, and a camera by his bed. I asked his mom what the empty frame signified. She smiled, saying Shaurya wanted to take some course in photography or movie-making a few years ago. She said she couldn’t remember the exact word for what it was he wanted to do, but he had wanted to go to Mumbai.
She and his father hadn’t agreed with the idea so the plan had been dropped. She said, ‘It’s been a long time now since he gave up on the idea. I don’t even know why he has this empty frame on his wall. He never answers me when I ask.’ I suddenly thought of Shaurya’s look when he was at the railway station. Was this why he was watching the train to Mumbai in that strange way? He seemed so broken standing
there. I suppose I should ask Kasturi, or even Shaurya himself about it. I learned a lot about Shaurya today. I waited for him on the terrace, knowing he would come there at some point. Granted, I cornered him, but I wanted answers. Why were you at the railway station? I asked. He tried to dodge it, but I didn’t back down. I like to think I gave him enough respect with my choice of words to let him know I felt he needed to say something, reveal those hidden things about himself. This is Not Your Story PDF Book Download
Shaurya has dreamed of going to Mumbai to become a filmmaker. Several times, he’s gone to the railway station, trying to work up the courage to run away. That was why he was there that day. I asked if he had talked to his parents… and the story was bitter even to my ears. They lack confidence and they want him to follow the same path they have chosen. I did my best to tell him he can do anything, despite what his parents may think of him and his dream.
It hurts knowing the empty picture frame on the wall is a reminder to himself that he is living an empty life on this path. Shaurya is an interesting guy and am happy to have met him. Destiny is a funny thing and I can’t help but feel I am here to help him realize his dream. My dream was to be an interior designer. I fought hard to become what I am today, and now I have plenty of work no matter where I go. Shaurya can do the same, but he just needs to find his courage again.
Despite it all, I am feeling much better since I’ve been in Jaipur. Now that I know more about Shaurya, and understand the struggles he is facing, I can breathe easier. Here I feel like I can rise above the skeletons in my own closet and help the lives around me to become richer. I think I have finally escaped the weight of my past, though the scars are still there. This is Not Your Story PDF Book Free
I can’t believe it! Mohit finally proposed! We’ve been together since college, and I was starting to wonder if this day would ever happen. And finally, when it happened, it was like a dream! He took me out on a date, and the chemistry was surreal before I even realized why we were there. The restaurant was amazing; I think the name of it was Terttulia? It was cute, intimate and the food mind-blowing!
I loved the angles inside and the use of different furniture to make each section stand out. We left the restaurant holding hands, enjoying the shops we passed until we found ourselves in front of one of the arches at Chaitya Bhoomi. The ocean breeze felt wonderful and the lights on the Sea Link were surprisingly romantic. He said my name, so soft, and when I turned from the railing, he was on one knee.
My heart felt as if it was going to pop out of my chest! He held up a small box that was open to reveal a ring so beautiful it brought tears to my eyes. Before he could even finish asking, I was screaming yes! I fell down into his arms, kissing him over and over. We had dinner with my parents to celebrate landing my first independent project as an interior designer. They are proud of me for once. This is Not Your Story PDF Book Free
So many times I have faced their frowning faces when I brought up this dream, but now, they aren’t afraid to smile about it. I suppose they didn’t want to see me get hurt if I failed while pursuing this dream. After all, I am their baby girl. Who can blame them? But yes! Have I told you about my first official job as an interior designer? To be honest, Mohit did pull some strings to get me the job. He told me to consider it as a wedding gift.
I have never been so happy! My dream is coming to life before me, my parents are proud of me for it, and I am marrying the love of my life. Mohit has helped me every step of the way, and I cannot be happier that I will soon become his wife!