CHAPTER 4 : Meet Mr.Ganesan!

 Hey there!

You’ve just clicked on this chapter, and honestly, I don’t care if you’ve read my other posts or not. But this one? I need you to read it. Seriously. Stick with me until the very last word—there’s something meaningful waiting for you at the end, something that just might change your life. Who knows?

okay, Let me take you on a little detour to introduce someone truly special. Drumroll, please... the senior-most and wisest (well, sometimes!) member of our family. Respect is mandatory, folks—he's the OG of our clan, the boss of my boss, my dad’s boss. Meet Ganesh, my sweet, charming grandpa.

Well, guys, before we dive in—how are you all doing today? Hope everything’s great!

Now, let’s talk about the senior in our family—though, honestly, he’s young at heart. He was born in Tiruvannamalai, Tamil Nadu, India, the same historic town where I was born too. I believe he was born in 1947, a year every Indian knows as monumental. As of today, he’s a sprightly 78-year-old youngster.

He’s the proud father of five children, and something to be noted, guys—he has only one wife! My beautiful grandma, Cinthamani, who’s 75 years old and the heart of our family. They’ve been together for decades, sharing a bond that’s nothing short of inspirational.

Fun fact: they’ve been together since childhood! Back in the day, families lived in joint households, so they practically grew up side by side—a stark contrast to today, where just living with grandparents feels like a “joint family.” (Lol, how times have changed!)

Oh, and here’s another fun tidbit—they’re blood relatives! It was pretty common back then for cousins to marry, and they tied the knot at a very young age. Through all these years, they’ve stayed side by side, building a life and a legacy together. Isn’t that amazing?

Okay, I don’t want to waste your time, but let me tell you this—I love my grandpa like anyone would, but my bond with him is something special. Before we moved to Chennai, I spent more time with him than with my parents. While all his other grandchildren moved away for various reasons, I stayed back in our little hometown, and he became my everything.

During my primary schooling days, he was my partner in crime. He’d drop me off at school and pick me up every day. Whatever I did, he was always there to back me up. Once, as a mischievous kid, I accidentally hit him with a small steel rod while playing. The mark is still on his hand, a reminder of how hard I must’ve hit him. But even then, he didn’t scold me. Instead, he protected me from everyone else’s anger. That’s the kind of person he is—always putting me first.

Life was simple back then—school, grandpa, my little sister, grandma, mom, and the beautiful small village we called home. My dad worked in Chennai to provide for us, but Grandpa made sure I never missed anything. I still have vivid memories of him buying me snacks every day, even though he had very little money himself.

There’s one incident that will always stay with me. I fell ill while staying at my uncle’s house. Grandpa, being my constant companion, was with me. He thought it was just a mild fever, but when we visited the doctor, they said it was more serious and I needed a stomach scan. Now, this wasn’t the digital payments era. Getting cash on short notice wasn’t easy. Without hesitation, he pledged his wedding ring for ₹800 to pay for the scan. That ring was something he had worn since his marriage, and I had never seen him without it.When my parents and grandma found out, they scolded him for giving up something so precious. But that’s just who he is—selfless, loving, and always putting his family above all else.

And then the day arrived—I had to move to Chennai for my education, and my father got a better job as well. It was hard, but it had to happen. Life took a turn, and for the first time, my grandparents started visiting us like guests. Funny how time changes, right?

Whenever they visited Chennai, my grandpa couldn’t just sit at home. He’d come to pick me up from school, always arriving at least 30 minutes early. I still remember the joy of seeing him waiting at the gate as a surprise. The moment I spotted him, I’d run toward him, shouting, “Thathaa!” (Grandpa). He’d greet me with his signature warm smile and, as always, buy us a bunch of snacks on the way back.

Sometimes, my mom would tell me, “Grandpa’s coming home tomorrow,” and I’d immediately beg my parents to let me skip school that day. Even when I did go, all I could think about was my grandpa picking me up later, and I’d count down the minutes until the last bell rang. The months my grandparents stayed with us were pure joy. My sister and I would fight over who got to sleep next to him, and, in the end, he’d always end up in the middle, with both of us snuggled beside him. Those moments were filled with laughter, comfort, and so much love.Ah, those days—they’re still so vivid in my mind like they just happened yesterday!

THE DAY!

It was December 1st, 2016. My parents, along with the entire family, had planned a double celebration at our home in our village—a housewarming ceremony for the home my grandpa had been building for the past year, fulfilling his lifelong dream of owning a house in the place he had lived since childhood. Along with this, there was a grand surprise: a 60th wedding anniversary celebration for my grandparents. In our tradition, this second wedding is a special way to honor their love and togetherness when one of the couple reaches their 60s. The festivities were set to take place on December 3rd.

My parents, my sister, my elder brother, and I started our journey to our hometown that evening. Other family members were set to arrive either that night or the next day. That evening, we first stopped at my maternal grandfather’s house for dinner. My parents planned to stay there for the night, but we three—my brother, sister, and I—had other plans.

We secretly called our grandpa, who lived in a nearby village and asked him to pick us up. We wanted to surprise him and spend the night with our grandparents. The moment he heard from us, he didn’t hesitate. Within 10 minutes, he arrived on his trusted TVS 50 bike, braving the late-night cold.

On the ride back, something felt different. Grandpa was unusually quiet. I even teased him, saying, “Thatha, why are you so serious? Aren’t you happy we’re here?” He just smiled softly, but now, thinking back, that smile carried something deeper.When we reached home, he asked my brother to put the stand on the bike while he went inside. Everything seemed fine. We surprised my grandma, who was overjoyed to see us. But after about ten minutes, she suddenly asked, “Where is he?”

We rushed outside and found him coughing severely. We didn’t know it was a sign of a heart attack. My grandma realized it immediately, and we later understood he had been in pain even before picking us up. Despite everything, he drove us home safely. That was just who he was—selfless and loving, always putting us first.

Even as he was about to be taken to the hospital, his focus was on us. My brother had unknowingly worn his slippers, and when he handed them back, Grandpa simply said, “There’s another pair in the corner; just keep those for yourself.” He then asked my grandma to come closer and requested some water.

But destiny had other plans. Late on the night of December 1st, 2016, our beloved Thatha left us. He was 70 years old at the time, but to me, he remains alive—his love and memories enduring, aging gracefully in my heart. Today, I like to think of him as a 78-year-old kid, still full of life, though peacefully resting beneath the ground.

We had planned to surprise him, but in the end, he surprised us all. His legacy, his love, and his spirit remain eternal, etched into every fiber of our being.

So, guys, I can’t just say it was fate that he left us. There’s a hard truth behind it, and I need you to stay with me for this part. My grandpa had a habit—one that slowly but surely took him away from us. He smoked cigarettes heavily and occasionally drank alcohol. While he was the most lovable, respectful, calm, and sweet member of our family, this one habit, inherited from his father or friends, became his undoing.

I still remember those days when he would light a cigarette in front of me and say, “Don’t tell anyone, and I’ll buy you snacks.” Back then, I only saw the snacks; I didn’t see the slow poison taking my grandpa away from me, bit by bit. I didn’t understand what I was losing, and I wish I had.

If only I had spoken up, told my parents, or done something—anything—to stop him. These thoughts haunt me to this day. The guilt of not acting, of not protecting him from himself, weighs heavy on my heart. Many nights, I cried not just because he left us, but because I felt I failed him.

To everyone reading this: you might have a "Ganesan" in your home, someone you love deeply. Or you might even be that "Ganesan" to someone else. Please, I beg you—don’t let tobacco or alcohol steal you or your loved ones away. Take care of them while they’re with you, not when it’s too late. Cherish every moment, because love is not just about memories—it’s about making sure those memories last longer.

And as for my grandma—our pillar of strength—she’s still with us, holding the family together with the same love and grace my grandpa left behind. Let’s not let his lesson go in vain. Let’s live, love, and protect those we hold dear.

catch you up in the next post!

CHAPTER 3 :The First Love!

 Hey there!

First love—sounds dreamy, doesn’t it? The kind of thing where violins play in the background, hearts flutter, and you’re already imagining some epic love story or secret crushes. Well, hate to burst your bubble, but my first love isn’t a “who” but a “what.” And trust me, it’s anything but ordinary. If you’ve already caught a glimpse of the picture below, you probably know where this is heading. Yes, my first and forever love is cricket. For most Indians, it’s not just a sport—it’s an emotion, a way of life. So, let me take you through my journey with this incredible game that stole my heart long before I even understood what love truly meant!

It was 2010, and I was just a 6-year-old kid. Up until then, I had spent my early years in my hometown, blissfully unaware of the bustling chaos of the big city. But life took a turn when my dad landed a job in Chennai, and for the first time, I stepped foot in this city of endless buzz and opportunities. We moved, and I got admitted to a decent school nearby.

Now, let’s get to the cricket part—because, honestly, that’s where the magic begins. Being new to the neighborhood, I spent my days observing the unfamiliar surroundings. One day, I noticed a group of older boys doing something fascinating in the narrow street. Armed with a wooden stick with a handle, they were hitting a ball back and forth. I was hooked from the very first glance.

On a holiday, as I stood there watching, one of the boys turned to me and asked, “Wanna join?” Without a second thought, I jumped in, and that’s how I met the chaotic world of street cricket. Forget the actual cricket rules you see on TV—this was a whole different league. The rules? Pure chaos.

• One-pitch catch? Out.
• Miss three balls in a row? Out.
• Hit the ball into someone’s house? Out (and probably banned from the street for a week).
• Stumps? Just dry sticks we scavenged from nearby bushes.
• LBW? Never heard of her.
• Byes? Luxury we couldn’t afford.

Oh, and the best part? When someone hit the ball into one of those roadside ditches filled with muddy water, guess who had to retrieve it? Yep, the batter—because actions have consequences, my friend.

India, right? Even today, those ditches still exist, carrying more history than the textbooks we studied.

Then, cricket became my way of meeting new people and making friends. But it wasn’t just any year—it was 2011, the year India won the Cricket World Cup. I remember the streets erupting with celebrations: people shouting, bursting crackers, and dancing like they’d hit the jackpot. I didn’t fully understand what “India won the World Cup” meant at the time, but the energy was infectious. My uncles couldn’t stop talking about it, and amidst their endless discussions, two names kept coming up: Sachin and Dhoni. I had no clue who they were, but their names stuck with me like glue.

And that, my friends, is how my first love began—not with violins or roses, but with wooden sticks, muddy ditches, and the sound of cheers echoing through the streets.

Last month(April,2011), everyone was celebrating India’s World Cup win, and this month, the streets lit up again with people cheering for CSK winning the IPL. All I kept hearing was “Dhoni this, Dhoni that, Dhoni Dhoni!" for the past two months. To be honest, I was confused. Should I support India, or this yellow team everyone seemed obsessed with? It took me years to figure out the difference between Team India and IPL and why this Dhoni guy was such a big deal.

Now let’s fast-forward to 2013, during my summer holidays at my uncle’s house. By then, I had started watching IPL more seriously. That’s when I first heard the name Virender Sehwag—this older guy playing for the Delhi team and smashing balls to the boundary like he was playing in fast forward. My uncle told me Sehwag was the best player in the country, even better than Dhoni (bold statement, I know). I didn’t understand stats or player rankings, but I decided then and there that Delhi would be my team, just because of Sehwag.

Until... the next IPL season arrived. Sehwag wasn’t playing for Delhi anymore; he’d moved to Punjab (a red jersey—seriously?). I was disappointed because I’d liked Delhi so much. My teacher used to say it’s the capital of India, so I thought it was special. But life has its way of making you change sides, and soon enough, I joined the Dhoni bandwagon. By the summer of 2014, I was a die-hard Dhoni fan—and I’ve stayed one ever since.

Okay, okay—I’m rambling again. So yeah, that’s my story about how I fell in love with cricket, Dhoni, IPL, Team India, and everything in between. It’s been a rollercoaster, but man, what a ride it’s been!

Oh yeah, then came the teenage years—the golden era of my life! I became that guy in the class who always rallied the gang to play cricket every Saturday. We started off on the streets, then moved to public parks. But here’s the catch—it was a public park, so we got caught by the officials more times than I can count. And let me tell you, the best part wasn’t just playing—it was running from them like we were in some action movie!

Eventually, we leveled up to a small ground, where things got serious—bet matches with our seniors. (Shh, don’t tell my mom about that part!) And guess what? We won almost every single time. Even better, we never lost a match to our juniors. Talk about bragging rights!

Whenever there was a holiday, we’d be out there by 6 a.m. sharp, ready to take on the day. I was the unofficial “cricket manager” in class, running errands and spreading the word about our next match. Looking back now, it feels like a golden chapter of my life—pure joy, no worries, just cricket and a whole lot of fun.

Then came 2020, and with it, the pandemic that shut the whole world inside their homes. But hey, did that stop me from playing cricket? Absolutely not! From childhood, I’d always played cricket indoors, with the wall as my trusty bowler and myself as Team India’s legendary cricketer. Let me tell you, I’ve won countless imaginary World Cups in my living room. And yes, if winning meant breaking a few things at home and getting scolded by Mom—well, that’s just the price of greatness, isn’t it?

Once the lockdown lifted, but schools remained closed, the real action began. We leveled up, playing on bigger grounds where the entire area gathered. My daily routine? Wake up, eat, play cricket, take a quick bath, and sleep—repeat. Some days, we even played twice because, honestly, we couldn’t get enough of it!

The highlight? We actually organized a cricket tournament in that same public park. Can you believe it? Twelve teams participated! Imagine 11th graders pulling off a full-blown tournament, and everyone in the neighborhood buzzing with excitement. Ha-ha, those were some epic times. Nothing but cricket, chaos, and pure joy!

Before I wrap up my cricket love story, let me share a bittersweet memory that still stings a little. Back in 7th grade, I was in my school’s football team—not by choice, but because football coaching was free, while cricket coaching cost ₹700, along with the need for a kit bag we couldn’t afford. Seeing my relentless passion for cricket, my father made a deal with me: if I topped the half-yearly exams, they’d consider enrolling me. And well, I did it.

My parents, despite their struggles, made it happen. I joined cricket coaching, learned to bowl without chucking, and got better at batting with a cork ball. Things were going great until my coach told my father I’d need a proper cricket kit. My dad, determined to support me, borrowed ₹3000—a significant amount for our family.

Wanting to ease their burden, I suggested buying a used kit for ₹2000 through the coach. My parents trusted him and gave the money. But soon after, the school shut down the cricket coaching program, and I never got that kit or the money back. For us, that ₹2000 was huge, and even today, it reminds me of the sacrifices my parents made for my dreams. They’ve always put me first, and for that, I’m endlessly grateful.

So now, I don’t play as much cricket as I used to. Life moved on, and I moved out of that area for college. Sure, I occasionally play on cricket turfs, but it doesn’t come close to the raw joy of those days—playing barefoot on mud-filled grounds, battling it out in narrow streets, and forgetting hunger just for the love of the game.

Cricket wasn’t just a game for me; it was where I found my happiest moments, built friendships, and learned resilience. It’s my first love, my forever love, and a chapter of my life I’ll always hold close to my heart. 

 

Catch you in the next post!

CHAPTER 2 : The Chaos Crew I Call Family !

Hey there!

Welcome to my family—where things are always a bit chaotic, everyone’s got a joke (even if it’s bad), and love is served with a side of craziness. Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with every family story or list out all the root members of my clan. Instead, let me introduce the three people I live with. Promise, it won’t be that long. Okay, let’s start!"

It was September 5, 2003, when a 29-year-old guy and a 20-year-old girl decided to tie the knot, only to go on and create a superhero a year later—yep, that’s me. Of course, they’re a bit of a weird but totally cute pair, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. Meet my lovable parents!

They were a good pair, sure, but let’s be honest, a bit on the boring side. Then, on the early morning of Friday, September 24, 2004, I made my grand debut into this world to spice things up and make their lives way more exciting. Before me, they were just a married couple—but thanks to my grand entrance, we became a real family! Oh, and just to be clear, I’m the third and definitely the best member of the squad. Lol!

My dad, He’s the definition of hardworking and funny (with a side of occasional seriousness). He’s the guy who comes up with the most illogical solutions, proudly presenting them as "brilliant ideas" to any problem I share with him. But here’s the thing: his heart’s always in the right place. He’s the kind of person who would do anything for his family—even spend money he doesn’t have or go into debt (but only if it’s for our studies).

For the past 22 years, he’s been working in the private sector, a journey that started with a humble ₹5,000 salary. Before that? Oh, he dabbled in everything—car washing, cooking, cable guy—you name it. He took on countless odd jobs as a bachelor just to get by. Jokes aside, he’s a good man with an incredible work ethic.

Now, my mom, She’s the purest soul I’ve ever met. She’s someone who constantly complains about how hard life is, but you know what? She’s never taken a day off from providing for us. She didn’t get much of an education—just primary school—but she’s given us so much more than books could ever teach. My dad only studied up to the 12th grade, by the way, but they both made sure we got the education they never had.

For the past 18 years, my mom has been working as a cook for wealthy families. Before that, she even worked as a maid for low pay, all to make sure my sister and I had the chance to become educated and, most importantly, good people. I love her beyond words, and one day, I’ll make sure she finally gets the rest and comfort she’s been longing for all her life.

Honestly, I could write an entire book about my parents. But for now, let’s leave it here—you’ll get to see their roles unfold in the upcoming chapters.

Alright, let’s hop into our time machine and travel back to November 26, 2006. It was an afternoon, and my mom was just casually watching TV, completely unaware that the fourth member of our family was about to make her grand entrance. Yep, that’s the day my sister decided to show up and shake things up. Her name is Keerthana—Keerthu for short (but don’t ask me, because I hate that name!). Honestly, I didn’t even get a cool pet name, so… a little jealous here.

Let me give you a formal introduction to my wonderfully annoying sister: As of today, she's 18 years old and Now, for some fun facts about her—first off, she’s convinced she’s fairer than me (not true, though, but let her have it). She’s the queen of petty arguments, fighting over literally everything—even on days when everything is going great, especially with me. Seriously, if I’ve survived her, I deserve a medal.

When it comes to studying, she’s... well, let’s just say, average (but don't tell her I said that). She can sing a little, but it’s not like she’s a secret pop star or anything. She's not that talented like me, but hey, she’ll survive. Just kidding! She’s actually smart, talented, and, yeah, annoyingly persistent.

She’s the one I’ve spent the most time talking to in my life (and she’s got all the embarrassing stories). But if I keep going, I might accidentally leak some of her secrets. So, let’s wrap up her intro here—just know that she's my partner in crime, the one I love to fight with, and still one of the best parts of my life.

And that’s my family for you—chaotic, hilarious, and full of love. They might test my patience daily, but they’re the reason life is never dull. From Dad’s questionable solutions to Mom’s endless care and my sister’s constant mischief, it’s a circus I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Stick around, because the rollercoaster of stories is just getting started. Catch you in the next chapter!

CHAPTER 1 : WHO IS Mr.KISHORE ?

Hey there!

If you’ve stumbled upon this humble corner of the internet amidst your busy day, let me start by saying—thank you for being here. I promise to make it worth your while!

Now, let’s break the ice. I’m Kishore P.S. Yes, my initials have two letters. “P” stands for Prabakar (my dad, a 50-year old youngster), and “S” is for Suganya (my supermom, who deserves her own series of shoutouts). But hey, we’ll dive deeper into the saga of my “cool parents” in another episode. For now, let’s focus on the guy behind this blog.

I’m an average-looking guy with a million dreams, a curious mind, and an ever-growing bucket list. I was born on September 24, 2004, in the picturesque temple town of Tiruvannamalai, Tamilnadu, India. But most of my life has been spent in the bustling city of Chennai, India. That’s where I spent 12 long (yet memorable) years at Montfort Matric Hr. Sec. School. Funny thing? I didn’t realize how much I loved school until I left it.

Fast forward to today: I’m in my final year of B.Com Degree at SRM Arts and Science College. I still live in the same city but in a different area now. After 18 years in a rental house, my parents finally built a home of their own—a dream come true. But that’s a story for another day! While academics have always been part of my life, it’s not the whole story. December 23, 2024—today—is when I finally decided to start this blog. Nothing extraordinary about the date, just me acting on a random idea, hoping it leads to something meaningful.

Now, who is Kishore, really?

I’m a guy with a lot of interests but no clear specialization yet. Cricket has been my first love since childhood, even though my school didn’t offer it as a sport. Instead, I ended up on the football team, which turned out to be a pretty great experience. I’m also fascinated by filmmaking and video editing, captivated by the magic of storytelling. I can dance a little, sing a bit(That's a joke), and give speeches confidently (sometimes too confidently!). Drawing, though? Let’s just say it’s not going in my portfolio.

Academically, I was a rank-holder throughout school, but college shifted my perspective. I stopped chasing grades and started focusing on what I could truly learn and apply. While I’ve always loved commerce, business, and accounting (and yes, I even have three job offers in the field), there’s a twist—I’m now setting my sights on freelancing and content creation. And hey, don’t tell anyone, but I’ve secretly got plans to build my own agency someday. For now, though, I’m just a beginner, soaking up knowledge through YouTube tutorials. Ahhh, like I said earlier, I’m that guy who can’t seem to stick to one thing and grow at it. But who knows? Maybe one day that’ll change... fingers crossed!

Why am I here?

To put it simply, I’m not the best at anything, but I’m curious about everything. That’s why I call myself the Mediocre Boy—someone who’s not perfect but thrives on exploring, experimenting, and learning along the way.

This blog is my attempt to share the rollercoaster of life—complete with twists, turns, lessons, and a healthy dose of laughter. It’s not just my story; it’s a reflection of the shared human experience.

So, if you’ve made it this far, thank you. This is just the beginning, and I hope you’ll stick around for the chapters ahead. Who knows? Maybe this “mediocre boy” has a few extraordinary tales to share. 

See you next time!