Talking Head!! Toastmaster Ice Breaker

Life is very simple for people who have diverse interests and the talent, evident or dormant, to achieve them. But then, there are also those, who so much want to do new things. So much that their bucket of wish list can flood even the barren plains of Sahara. But exclaimation exclaimation. They have absolute zero talent to do it. And for God's sake who said try try until you succeed? Folks in the country of these gifted human the saying goes like, try try until you bleed.

Now that you are aware with this special race of human who are gifted with absolute zero gifts, let me tell you a secret I'm one of them.

Children are often regarded as the apple of their parent's eye. The deteroriated ones are speck. I was the log. Not an ordinary log, I was the log. Born of the 11th day of the 11th month, at 11 in night, at 11 mins and 11 secs weighing 11 pounds!!

As a small girl, I loved arts and I still do. But the tragedy was, I could not draw. And if i could draw, I could not paint. And by a miracle from the heaven if I could draw it and paint it at the same time, by no chance it can be called an art. Not even remotely.

Did i tell you that i love music? Music fascinates me. It drives and keeps me alive. But I cant sing. On the rare chances that I have tried my luck, I realized that I have this uncanny knack of converting a beautiful song into a digre. And people are so much in awe of my singing that i have been threatned to be sued. The crime? Adding to the noise pollution. I tried to be a bathroom singer. But then my taps choked.

So the next interest that i encountered was writing. Back in school I had a wonderful handwriting. All of my notebooks were beautifully crafted with words that would mesmerize anybody with their structure. so one fine day my class teacher told me to participate in hand writing contest. Realizing that I posses a talent I was spellbound. I started imagining my self with a gold trophy, with a triumphant music in the background; my mom rolling in tears and my dad's chest swollen with pride. I had even made plans to forward my hand writing samples to Microsoft. Maybe they would introduce a new font. Maybe they name it New Times Parul. Ah!! So on the competition day, I like a soldier, armed with fine HB pencils, Natraj, Camlin, Apsara's extra dark ones, you name any I had all, marched into the hall. It was a cake walk. I had to write 2 pages in 30 minutes. 2 pages? 30 minutes? Are you kidding me? Did anyone know I write slowly. Slowly as in tortoise slowly? Why we are taught all the wrong lessons as kids. Slow and steady wins the race. The evaluator scorned and said, "Too slow are disqualified" .

You must have heard about alcoholic, workaholic and shopaholic. Well I call myself interest-aholic. And with the zero talent that i posses, I have metamorphed into Parul of all, Singh of none. Still, I'm here pursuing, yet another, interest of mine, speaking. Because even if I'm trying trying until I'm bleeding, I've never bled enough to quit trying.