I read some batches of other writers’ on 100words and it was interesting to see their world from their writing. Having been brought up in a traditional Palghat Brahmin family in a town close to the Kerala border in Tamilnadu, my world was different. I think my reading made me more aligned with the rest of the world.
In some countries that I have lived in, youngsters had a lot more of freedom and more responsibilities to balance it. But here in Bahrain, people appear traditional, but the general picture as reflected in their newspapers appears crude and sensational.

You would think that writing exactly one hundred words would not be that difficult to do but I have come to discover that it is. Difficult. I used to be pretty good at it and could almost look at the batch of words and tell you how close I was to 100. Now I have to use word count. I may or may not get back in the swing of it. I may or may not continue with the January batch. It’s only the second entry and already my brain is tired. That’s really not unusual. My brain’s always tired.

So, how do you know when you're an alcoholic? When you've not had a drink in only 18 hours and already you're climbing the walls? When your kidneys ache and your body is saying no more, and yet more is all you want? Sod it. one quick phone call to the Lemon and there I was, his sofa, in front of Doctor Who, two bottles of red bought so quickly I'd barely given the label a quick glance. Again, I was meant to be writing chapter 6, as ever. Is alcoholism the new procrastination? Will I ever finish this novel?