Blog

The Unrevealed Truth

Summer vacation was not that exciting for Anu at the age of fifteen, as it was at ten. But she felt a little desire to meet her cousins in the village when her mom informed her that they were going to her paternal home in the coming June of 1999. Since she was just ten when she last visited that little village of North-East India. A flashback of many thrilling pics came into her mind. Although the lifestyle was very uncomfortable there, she decided to go to make some more memories packed with versatile activities with her cousins. Anu’s father had four brothers and two sisters apart from cousins. Some brothers emerged as bright students and searched for their careers in big cities while some remained in the village and accepted farming for their living. The previous generation had been created a big family, so Anu and her cousins never needed to make friends from outside the family. Some children were already in the village and some were on their way from different cities. When they all were gathered, they were called Vanar Sena like Indira Gandhi's Sena although less sincere but had a mission to entertain themselves. She was the middle child having some self-esteemed elders and some pampered youngers. Anu remembered how most of them called out children’s names by adding the suffix ‘aa’ or ‘wa’’ etc. She was ‘Anuaa’, while her cousin Sandeep was ‘Sandeepwa’. Anu often wondered, who would be the inventors of these unique traditions. She read many civilizations in history but never encountered these types of strange habits which are being followed eternally. Anu always felt insulted on being addressed with this suffix whereas the rural kids were habitual. Anu reminded her mother how her uncle’s whole family was glad and women showed their affection by washing her mother’s feet on a large plate. She asked her mother if this ritual still going on. She admired her daughter’s good memory and informed her that the tradition no longer existed. They reached into the yard and got stunned to hear the loud mourning sounds. Her father rushed to the house Anu and her mother followed him. Few female members were crying by covering their faces with their 'pallu'. Someone told them that they just received the news that Anu’s one of the aunts was dead. Anu observed that all the Male members were looking calm without any wrinkle of sadness on their faces. Some sensitive kids were gathered around their mothers’ group while some oblivious of all, were busy in eating and playing. Anu’s mother joined the ladies in mourning and she sat near them. Little Rohan came and asked Anu, “ Didi, why the aunts are singing.” Anu controlled her giggle and pulled him in her lap and told him that they were crying. Anu realised that her cousin’s confusion was genuine, as their cry was on a certain rhythmic pattern and high pitched. Anu’s eldest uncle came from the men’s group to women’s and announced that the news was fake. He had to shout to make them listened to him, “Look in the yard, she is coming.” Within minutes they were laughing and chatting, God knows who with whom. Anu came to know that all the drama was based on her aunt’s superstition. Earlier in the morning a crow tapped on her head and she believed that very soon she will be dying. The only solution was to make some people mourn over her death. So she sent a messenger before reaching the village, and now she was safe from that bad omen.

The Purva wind was soothing in the night, she was to sleep under the Peepal tree. She became nostalgic about how she used to play under this huge tree in her childhood. All the religious tasks were performed under this holy tree. Every now and then there was a ‘Satya Narayan Bhagwan ki Katha’ was performed. The same Pandit Ji with potbelly used to come, uttered the same story of two women ‘Kalawati, Leelawati' and go with a large ‘potli’ of 'Dakshina'. Whenever the Potter came to sell his pots, sat under this tree. He was taller than six feet, and his muscular body at the age of fifty was definitely a cause of envy for the gym going boys. Anu wanted to advise these boys to do some hard work and have a body like Potter. Two children would sit on his shoulders while two hanging out on his arms and he would make many rounds of the Banyan tree merrily. He loved children and was happy in making them happy. Unlike the Pandit Ji, he was not greedy and would take happily whatever he is given in return. Maybe it was extremely beautiful nature's lullaby or the new environment for she was relaxed but not sleepy. She hummed the song suitable for this situation "jyada pyaar ho jata toh mai sah nhi pata". Finally, her chain of thoughts dissolved into sleep at mid-night. In the morning, Anu woke up with the hullabaloo of children. Some elders were doing their daily work of feeding the cattle while some were just sitting, brushing teeth and talking. Some little ones playing and the toddlers were filling their tummy, gathering like bees in the giant kitchen. For Anu, the morning routine was the toughest task in the village, regarding the facilities. An hour later she also felt hungry and moved towards the kitchen. Her mother gave her steamed fara, which she relished slowly. She urged her mother to make it very often and further argued that it was good for her health also as it was not fried. Her mother, encircled with aunts, nodded with a smile. Suddenly Anu’s bua screamed her daughter’s name, “Kanchan! Don’t touch that.” Poor Kanchan, just a few inches away from a glass container, was shaking with fear. Anu guessed there must be a current flowing in that jar or some poisonous insect would have been sighted behind it but soon she had to put her hand on her head when she was informed the real reason. Kanchan’s menstrual cycle was going on and if she would have been touched the container of pickles, it would have been spoiled at once. On top of that, she was also being scolded for entering into the kitchen during these days. Anu tried to save her by arguing that she had touched the pickles many times in her house during her periods, and it never gets spoiled. But on the contrary, all children were shooed from the kitchen so only ladies were left for their group discussion. Kanchan told her that last week their youngest aunt’s only son, two-year-old Munnu, suffered from vomiting, due to some overeating. But their grandmother took him to the Ojha, who treats sick people through prayer or supernatural power, instead of the doctor. She believed that he caught an evil eye because he was the cutest child in the neighborhood. Anu observed that the boy was chubby with a fair complexion. These two merits were the only parameters for being beautiful and also necessary to catch a Nazar. She saw an amulet around his neck, she wanted to ask someone how he caught the evil eye despite this Suraksha Kawach. Kanchan interrupted her, “Don’t look in that manner or you will be responsible for casting an evil eye.” Anu immediately turned her gaze away and they both laughed.

They entered the elder cousins group and spontaneously slipped into the discussion on pocket money should be given to the kids or not. The eldest brother, known as Kallu Bhaiya, due to his dark complexion, was against it. He said, “It only makes children extravagant. They do not value money even when they are grown-ups. Perhaps in that way, he was taking his frustration out. All knew that in a rural area there was no such concept of pocket money. The kids were given fifty to a hundred rupees on the occasion of Dashahara Mela. That day they are free to purchase their favorite toys, or can eat whatever they liked. If they are out of money, their parents were liberal enough to pay for their cartwheel rides. Apart from these special occasions, whenever a distant relative is visiting the house, the kids would surely be given some amount while departure. Some parents were keeping an eye on the amount, as they had to do vice versa. Another cousin retaliated, “On the contrary pocket money makes us a more responsible person. For example, if we have to purchase something worth our three months pocket money, we have to save it. In that way, it teaches us to be patient and cultivates saving habits in us.” Anu supported this notion and tried to make the ambiance delightful. She announced, “I am going to purchase candies for us all with my pocket money.” Beena also chipped in with her pocket money and they bought some candies and chips packets. Anu found herself in a state of ecstasy, surrounded by children, distributing them happiness. Beena, Anu’s peer, offered to go to the tube well, which was approximately one and a half kilometers far from the madding crowd of the house. The tube well was situated at the edge of our fields. Anu’s father got made a double-story building alongside the tube well, to keep the grains and also for the laborers to get some rest while working in the fields. They reached and started walking through the small fields of veggies. Both were as happy as a clam to see the tomatoes, cute cucumbers, shiny brinjals, etc. As the tomatoes were ripening, their colors started to change from green to yellow and then eventually to red. They recalled how they used to eat tomatoes and cucumbers direct from the fields. At some expanses, there were papaya trees, beautiful pomegranate, and fragrant lemon trees. On the opposite side of the tube well, a big mango orchard was situated. Anu and Beena found it adventurous to go and taste some hand-picked mangoes. In their childhood, they were scared of the ghosts and never dared to enter the orchard. But now they knew that there were no such things as ghosts exist. So this was an opportunity for them to boast among other children also.

The so-called prohibited Aam-ka-Baag had belonged to the richest man of the village. It was stretched out in a large area. The more they stepped inside, the orchard became dense and darker. Sunlight scarcely coming through the leaves. Beena said, “If Kallu Bhaiya would have been living here, he must not have used the fairness cream, which he applies secretly.” They laughed and their voices echoed. In search of a ripened mango, they reached near a hut in that desolate jungle. The sound of the wind rustling through the trees haunted them. They were not able to recognize the direction from where they entered. Anu peeped into the hut. A girl around twelve was lying on the ground, either dead or unconscious. The adventure turned into sheer horror. Suddenly a heavy voice emerged from behind, “How dared you both to come here.” They turned about and screamed. Anu asked in a trembling voice for the right direction to go out. He pointed and they ran without delaying a millisecond. The man’s dreadful face picked up their pace. They finally reached the outskirts of the orchard running and panting but didn’t stop till they were near the house. At the entrance, they stopped to catch their breath and decided not to talk about the incident to anyone, as they were already denied to go there. Anu was feeling feverish. She fell on the bed and heard her mother saying someone, to call the doctor. Anu was thinking about which situation was more haunting, the ghost story or this man-hut-girl fact. She was pondering over the real reason for circulating ghost stories about the mango orchard. She presumed that some dark secret was being hidden by some powerful people. Perhaps elders would be knowing this fact. Anu wanted to save the girl. She felt her eyelids were burdened and about to close.

Suman Yadav

Pain-killer For A Killer Pain

“No water around? I am thirsty”. I asked no one in particular, but she replied, “There is a deep-sea”. “Where?” I asked. Staring at the clouds in the stretched blue sky, she replied obliviously, “I am carrying it within me everywhere I am wandering”. I rubbernecked at my cousin’s face and found pain spreading its wings there. On being her philosophical, I was as sure as eggs is eggs that something went wrong with her. “Do you want to share something?” I asked sympathetically. She chose to be quiet. I thought to render her some time to get prepared. “Okay, I am going to buy a bottle of water, should I bring something for you?” She denied and kept lying on her back on the velvety grass. I stood and moved towards the kiosk near the packed parking area of the park. 
She is my cousin, working in a corporate office, where everyone has to face cut-throat competition. Every weekend, when we meet to spend some leisure hours together, she always looks bubbly, high-spirited, and zestful. This Sunday of February, I decided to catch up with her in the park to bask in the sunshine. God knows how much pain she is hiding in her heart today. With water, I also bought some chocolates for her. I recalled a scrap of information that it contains flavonoids which help in making us happy and satisfied. The delectable chocolates melted her heart and she opened it to me. Sam was her friend for the whole year since she joined the office. They were working, eating, laughing together. Every morning she had an enthusiasm to dress up and make up the way to look beautiful for him. Her thoughts before sleeping revolved around him. She used to rewind their talks of the day and became extremely happy for the next day’s meeting. He had a very good sense of humour plus good looks and well-built physic. Everything was perfect until the day his concentration was continuously on someone else. Her eyes persuaded him and his were stuck to a new colleague. The next day she desperately wanted him to like her and unknowingly she moved around him and talked to him in a seducing way. But when she left for home, realised that she was totally failed. She was ashamed of herself. Her body language told her love for him to everyone in the office. The body language needs no language. “There is no pain-killer in the whole world, for this killer-pain. Now I want to quit this job”. I felt my heart drowning, but I asked, “Is that girl beautiful?” ” Yes” She replied with a gloomy face. I showed my best acting and sighed, as if I am relieved to know this. I touched her shoulders and said, “There are ninety percent chances that he is charmed by her external beauty only. This would be infatuation. Give it some time and it will be disappeared”. She was still in dilemma, ” What about the other ten percent? Should I wait and watch all these tormenting scenes every day?” “Umm.. can u get a handsome guy in your office to make him jealous?” My question was the answer of her question. She delved deep into her thoughts n slowly her eyes were a little bit brightening, “Ronit”. We see off each other with smiles, hers thankful and mine sympathetical. She was suffering from the most painful situation of a woman’s life. Her heart was heavy with pain, which she wanted to snatch from her body and throw it like a disc as far as she cannot see it. It would not be let her forget him for a single moment. It also does the crime of producing non-stop tears from her eyes. She had to run to the washroom to hide these uninvited guests from her eyes every now and then. After two days, I talked to her during lunch break but her tired voice suggested that she hadn’t slept the previous night. She confirmed it and said, “There is a strange relationship between us. On my happy days, it comes and hugs me in the night. But whenever I am downhearted it does come but sits at a distance and see me tossing n turning, in bed. Perhaps it gives me more time to find out the reasons and solutions to my problems or wants me to chew over the matter.” I suspected, if anyone would have overheard her in the office, will assume her being insane. I pleaded with her to call me back when she will be at home in the evening and hung up quickly. It was clear that the plan didn’t work. Apparently Sam was not jealous at all. In general, love is the most common cause of jealousy in men and women. A man can’t see her beloved to pay more attention to someone else. He can show his displeasure through violence, rudeness, or in rare cases through a plea. If he was indifferent to her approaches to someone else, then he was surely not in love with her. In the evening she called me and apart from this depressing truth, she revealed an annoying fact that Ronit was interested in her. It was like she went to solve one problem and got stuck in another. With some hasitancy I asked if there was some soft corner for him in her heart. She discarded this notion, ” I like him but he will never be more than a friend for me. I am feeling totally entangled in the situation now.” I invited her to watch a movie in the newly constructed shopping mall with sixteen-screens multiplex near my apartment on Sunday. She was not willing to come but I insisted and she accepted half-heartedly.  I bought two tickets for a comedy movie so that the strokes of laughter can work like a pick that will produce some melody when rubbing with the strings of a guitar. At this time her brain was also full of six tense strings like a guitar. She came in traditional Indian “salwar kameez”. I know why we remember this dress only when we are sad. I said, ” Thank God you didn’t take “chunni”, otherwise you would have looked like ” lady Devdas”. She replied, ” In this condition, I should remain in “Kop Bhawan” instead of a movie theatre.” ” Okay madam Kakeyi Ji, let’s go inside otherwise we’ll miss the first scene.” I knew she had always been fascinated with the first scene of the movie or the first line of a book. In her opinion, the initiative was the most difficult step of any activity. The comic scenes made everyone laughing except her. In the interval, I ordered Cappuccino, her favourite, and some cheese sandwiches. She looked at the families and remarked, ” Why people are so much overjoyed. God knows they are really happy or just pretending to each other. It seems I am the only sad person in the whole world. There is no problem in anyone’s life except me. Laughter, smile joy hate my face only.” I diverted her, ” Leave them and tell me how will you deny Ronit. Choose the way, which hurt him less.” “Oh! I was to tell you that we went to a cafe near the office yesterday. For Ronit, it was a date initially, and for me the culmination. I told him every bit of truth that made him sad obviously. Let’s see the upshot tomorrow. Either he will keep a distance from me or he will be converted into an opponent working together but pinching like an enemy.” She further said, ” From this incident I learned a lesson, that how do you feel when someone loves you and you have not the same feeling. Now I am in the shoes of Sam. So now on I have no complaints. I think I got my pain- killer.”
The next day I was desperately waiting to talk to her. In the evening, she sounded calm over the phone, which made me relieved. I was glad to hear that Ronit was not angry with her. Perhaps men are stronger than women in hearts’ matters. Unlike women, they strongly believe that they will meet someone else. Women usually lack this positiveness and close all the entrances after the heartbreak. She leaned to manoeuvre her relationships with her colleagues very well. I shared my problems along with my other friends’ problems with her. Sometimes when we realise that others’ problems are bigger than ours’, then only we feel obliged to God. I had this feeling while watching the movie based on the life of Sarabjit Singh, who underwent imprisonment of twenty-two years in Pakistan. The sight of the filthy atmosphere and torture tormented me for a long time. The same happened to me when I read the novel My Feudal Lord. Our next weekend meeting was in a theme-based restaurant. The setting was a glimpse of the rural culture of the Purvanchal region of India, the decorated well, the chakki, the doors made of bamboo sticks, the walls pained with mud, overall a different aura. She was beaming in a floral maxi dress. “Bati-Chokha” and amazing “Chutney” was being served on the plates made of the banyan leaves. My vivacious cousin was back in her form. I wholeheartedly prayed for her happiness. I believed sooner or later, she will meet her Mr. Right, and there will be mutual love, not one-sided. She was savouring the food and said, ” He is going to Canada.” I gaped at her. She read my face and assured me, ” It will be easier for me to forget him when he will be not in front of me.” I was surprised, how sincere she had become in just a few weeks. “Listen,” she said again, ” I want a baby through IVF. Now don’t judge me, please. I am not insane. I just don’t want to spend my whole life alone.” I knew she was still not ready to replace him with any other man. She turned over a new leaf and took bold step. In urban areas, some couples are happy in live-in relationships and they don’t want children. On the other hand, some find themselves not capable of handling spouses and heading towards a single parent. Consequently, the population is balanced.

Suman Yadav

Revenge

   Jenny was holding her coffee mug in one hand and TV remote in another. She was sipping coffee while watching her favorite show, but at intervals she was also watching from the core of her eyes towards the dinning table, where her younger brother was playing some stupid game ( according to her ) on the laptop. Some minutes earlier they were fighting for the remote. It was an everyday scene in their home. Jenny heard her phone ringing. It was Roma, her best friend. As soon as she put the TV remote on the table, her brother ran and pick it up quickly. He sat on the sofa like a king stretching his legs on the table. Jenny gave him a disgusting look and he put on a “Jo jeeta wahi sikandar” smile.
   “Hello” Jenny received the call in her stylish voice as usual. Roma from the other side screamed with excitement, “Listen Jenny! There is a big sale in that new shopping mall. Let’s go there.” “Okay okay” Jenny replied, “I will be there in fifteen minutes.” Roma again screamed, “Make it fast baby, otherwise Nisha and Simran will grab all the beautiful and hot dresses.” Jenny laughed and turned to go to her room. She bumped into her mother, who was standing just behind her and trying to listen to her talk with Roma. She said plainly “Jenny I have a work for you.” “But mamma … I have to go with Roma.” Jenny begged. Her mamma replied without looking at her, “Yes I heard, but you have to go to bank and do my work. “Looking at disappointed Jenny, she suggested, “You can do both the works today… Can’t you. “Jenny’s mamma was sometimes more friendly than a friend. She hugged her mamma happily and planned first to do shopping with Roma and then go to the bank.
   Jenny and Roma were attacking on one clothe after another. Finally they have lots of clothes for trial then they were to decide which of them they are going to purchase. Many women were already waiting outside the trial room, but any how Jenny got entered into a vacant changing room. And she took it’s full advantage by trying the dresses taking her time comfortably. After an hour both the girls were ready to go back to their houses giggling and making plans for evening.
    At 2 pm Jenny was on the way to the bank. She remembered how she used to postpone her works when her father was on his tours for two or three days. This time he was sent to Singapore for a year. So this time Jenny and her mother have to do all their works themselves. When she reached and met the concerned officer, she was said to wait. After twenty minutes, Jenny again asked the lady to do her work but she again advised her to wait. After one hour Jenny lost her patience. This time the banker also got irritated and the two ladies argued for five minutes. For other staff members and customers, it was a short amusement which brought them some relief from monotonous atmosphere of the office. Jenny had no options, except waiting. She was murmuring and cursing the Indian systems. When she was tired, she became silent. The lady banker kept her waiting for two hours for a signature. Finally Jenny was called up and her paper work was completed. When Jenny was about to leave the lady said to her, “I hope now you will value others time also. And you won’t push others to occupy a trial room and keep them waiting for a long time.” Jenny saw the lady attentively and recalled that in the shopping mall she hurriedly entered the trial room when this lady was just an inch far from it. Jenny headed to her house thinking about the strange revenge of the banker.

Suman Yadav

Be A Giver

    One morning, I woke up to realise that it’s 30th October, my birthday. My 10th birthday. It has been always the most awaited day for me through out the whole year. I knew there will be a party in evening as usual. I will get lots of gifts, I thought, and that it will be a happy day for sure. I jumped out of the bed and rushed to the kitchen, where my mom was preparing some delicious dish for me. We hugged each other and she wished me “happy birthday”.
     She took me towards the corridor, where my gift, a new big bicycle was waiting for me. I really needed it because the old one was quite small for me now. I thanked my mother. Then she said that I should give the smaller bicycle to our maid’s son Sonu. I suddenly became angry. How could she say that. It was my birthday. I was not supposed to give some thing others but only to get.
   I made up my mind to not to celebrate my birthday and decided to not accept any gifts. But when I handed over my cute bicycle to little Sonu, he was overwhelmed with happiness. He was touching the bicycle and then my hands again and again and saying “thank you bhaiya”. I saw there was a beautiful smile on his face. I was also smiling. His eyes, where I always found fear and hesitation, were filled with happiness now. It was the happiest moment for me. I realised that happiness is not only in getting but also in giving. Be a Giver and you would be a Happy person. 

Suman Yadav

Introduce Yourself (Example Post)

This is an example post, originally published as part of Blogging University. Enroll in one of our ten programs, and start your blog right.

You’re going to publish a post today. Don’t worry about how your blog looks. Don’t worry if you haven’t given it a name yet, or you’re feeling overwhelmed. Just click the “New Post” button, and tell us why you’re here.

Why do this?

  • Because it gives new readers context. What are you about? Why should they read your blog?
  • Because it will help you focus your own ideas about your blog and what you’d like to do with it.

The post can be short or long, a personal intro to your life or a bloggy mission statement, a manifesto for the future or a simple outline of your the types of things you hope to publish.

To help you get started, here are a few questions:

  • Why are you blogging publicly, rather than keeping a personal journal?
  • What topics do you think you’ll write about?
  • Who would you love to connect with via your blog?
  • If you blog successfully throughout the next year, what would you hope to have accomplished?

You’re not locked into any of this; one of the wonderful things about blogs is how they constantly evolve as we learn, grow, and interact with one another — but it’s good to know where and why you started, and articulating your goals may just give you a few other post ideas.

Can’t think how to get started? Just write the first thing that pops into your head. Anne Lamott, author of a book on writing we love, says that you need to give yourself permission to write a “crappy first draft”. Anne makes a great point — just start writing, and worry about editing it later.

When you’re ready to publish, give your post three to five tags that describe your blog’s focus — writing, photography, fiction, parenting, food, cars, movies, sports, whatever. These tags will help others who care about your topics find you in the Reader. Make sure one of the tags is “zerotohero,” so other new bloggers can find you, too.

Introduce Yourself (Example Post)

This is an example post, originally published as part of Blogging University. Enroll in one of our ten programs, and start your blog right.

You’re going to publish a post today. Don’t worry about how your blog looks. Don’t worry if you haven’t given it a name yet, or you’re feeling overwhelmed. Just click the “New Post” button, and tell us why you’re here.

Why do this?

  • Because it gives new readers context. What are you about? Why should they read your blog?
  • Because it will help you focus your own ideas about your blog and what you’d like to do with it.

The post can be short or long, a personal intro to your life or a bloggy mission statement, a manifesto for the future or a simple outline of your the types of things you hope to publish.

To help you get started, here are a few questions:

  • Why are you blogging publicly, rather than keeping a personal journal?
  • What topics do you think you’ll write about?
  • Who would you love to connect with via your blog?
  • If you blog successfully throughout the next year, what would you hope to have accomplished?

You’re not locked into any of this; one of the wonderful things about blogs is how they constantly evolve as we learn, grow, and interact with one another — but it’s good to know where and why you started, and articulating your goals may just give you a few other post ideas.

Can’t think how to get started? Just write the first thing that pops into your head. Anne Lamott, author of a book on writing we love, says that you need to give yourself permission to write a “crappy first draft”. Anne makes a great point — just start writing, and worry about editing it later.

When you’re ready to publish, give your post three to five tags that describe your blog’s focus — writing, photography, fiction, parenting, food, cars, movies, sports, whatever. These tags will help others who care about your topics find you in the Reader. Make sure one of the tags is “zerotohero,” so other new bloggers can find you, too.

Introduce Yourself (Example Post)

This is an example post, originally published as part of Blogging University. Enroll in one of our ten programs, and start your blog right.

You’re going to publish a post today. Don’t worry about how your blog looks. Don’t worry if you haven’t given it a name yet, or you’re feeling overwhelmed. Just click the “New Post” button, and tell us why you’re here.

Why do this?

  • Because it gives new readers context. What are you about? Why should they read your blog?
  • Because it will help you focus your own ideas about your blog and what you’d like to do with it.

The post can be short or long, a personal intro to your life or a bloggy mission statement, a manifesto for the future or a simple outline of your the types of things you hope to publish.

To help you get started, here are a few questions:

  • Why are you blogging publicly, rather than keeping a personal journal?
  • What topics do you think you’ll write about?
  • Who would you love to connect with via your blog?
  • If you blog successfully throughout the next year, what would you hope to have accomplished?

You’re not locked into any of this; one of the wonderful things about blogs is how they constantly evolve as we learn, grow, and interact with one another — but it’s good to know where and why you started, and articulating your goals may just give you a few other post ideas.

Can’t think how to get started? Just write the first thing that pops into your head. Anne Lamott, author of a book on writing we love, says that you need to give yourself permission to write a “crappy first draft”. Anne makes a great point — just start writing, and worry about editing it later.

When you’re ready to publish, give your post three to five tags that describe your blog’s focus — writing, photography, fiction, parenting, food, cars, movies, sports, whatever. These tags will help others who care about your topics find you in the Reader. Make sure one of the tags is “zerotohero,” so other new bloggers can find you, too.