Reflections

He hated it. So much so that he couldn’t stand It for the shortest period of time. It was almost like a monster eating him up. Slow and steady, like an insect it would creep out of nowhere and linger around him for eternity. Making him almost claustrophobic with it’s presence. Like a rope tied around his neck, forbidding him to speak anything. All he could do was shouting in vain, hoping that someone would take it away from him. It was in It’s presence that the woman that he had loved so much had left him. It reminded him of those exam halls sitting inside which all he could ever do was staring at the empty answer sheet that he always submitted! Bringing back pathetic memories of the Conferences where he tried so hard to elicit some response from the other side. Or the umpteen attempts at making his audience laugh, failing most of the time. She loved it. So much so that it was like a part of her. She was used to it, like the chirping of birds, the presence of the wind. She did not fin

Today, I shall do what women are considered to be best at. To put it in more sophisticated words, I shall express my utter discontent towards the Indian Education System. Though I fail to see any Systematic order in constant strikes, absence of teachers/students from classrooms, exam paper leakages, mediocre infrastructure and ill-motivated classrooms, for the best interests of all I shall keep that out of the discussion. I wonder why we even call it “Education”, when all that we go through is just rigorous training to work as clerks or “Managers” under the bosses of “hefty package” Companies! Whatever happened to the formal definition of education as “a process to develop mentally, morally or aesthetically”? Though I don’t have many memories of classrooms (considering the lullaby that my teachers religiously sang for us in most of the classes), the fondest ones are those of the teachers ranting about how the syllabus needed to be finished (I say finished, not “completed”) before exam

“But no matter how hard I run I cannot touch the horizon Trying to catch the sand that slips from under my feet That runs between my toes If only Time can be reversed. It changes the colour of the water to the colours of the sky. Chasing sunsets As if they were mine.” -           Anonymous The self clicked pictures that follow were clicked on the day “When the sky was on Fire”! Clicked with a 2.0 MP Camera of my Mobile Phone, they are in no way "great pieces of Art". Nevertheless, felt like sharing them here! :D

Today, we shall analyze and discuss at length, a new genre of relationships that is taking pace with the passing time. It’s easy, romantic and the best of all comes with no misunderstandings! Yes, a Love Story without misunderstandings! Beat that Mr. Eric Segal! While we have all loved the book for its utter simplicity, the genre of relationships that I shall be talking about henceforth has surpassed that level of simplicity. Without much ado, let me introduce my fellow readers to Textual Relationships. (No, you read it right the first time you read it. It is indeed Textual, not what you think you misread!) They are easy to get into and easier to get out of. No need to buy her flowers, no showering him with hugs and kisses, no need to pretend that you’re listening, no shedding tears after fights (in some cases, no fights at all). All it takes is a series of very cheap antics called Short-Messages (henceforth referred to as SMS). I call them cheap not just out of my utter discontent fo

The Sun shone weakly on the mildly cold winter morning. A round orange ball, so vulnerable and so lost of its power. It was so weak that the Gold from its surface had merged in unison with the Deep Orange that seemed to defy all rules. These rules had bound the Sun to be the powerful one, always illuminating the world. But, today as He hugged the woman who he had loved, the Sun seemed to have learnt a lesson. It was all so in sync with what was happening in his life. But, he had travelled across the world, seen so much that anything now hardly ever excited him. As he took her into his strong arms, held her along her delicate waist, he could feel the melting away of all the sourness that he had felt towards her all this while. The Sun hidden behind clouds, melting in its own right, smiled upon Him. He had been on a voyage. A journey so long and eventful that he could write a book about those two days of his life! Nothing really significant happened that day, which would have triggered

“You really are such a bitch!” You wake up in the morning, hoping against hope that it will be a great day. Your eyes are still aching with the pain of last night’s crying. As you open your eyes, the faint memory of last night’s dilemma crosses your mind. You think over it again, and try to remember what you had resolved right before you had closed your eyes the previous night. As all those dreadful thoughts cross your mind again, there is a silent tear that rolls down your cheek, unable to resist.   You had left it all behind you the previous night, or so you thought! Now, rolled comfortably in your blanket you realize how one thought had led to another, like one path leading to another. You had journeyed through a whole world of thoughts. The world that was round, ending where it all started. You had landed in the same place, the same dilemma, with maybe a little more clarity! You had been running away from this one thing, one person, and one word. Running like crazy, before you re

Lean and lanky, he sat at his badly lit study table. He had spent most part of his youth and his entire old age in the same place, in front of the same bundle of papers, which would have once been blank, but now were a confused mess of mathematical symbols and philosophical meanderings. The batteries of his table lamp had long ago given up, but too busy to change them, he chose to carry on, letting the lamp shade accumulate dirt and his spectacles, a higher power. The cushion of his chair had sunk deep inside by the unmoving weight of his body. His fatigued mind could not remember the date of when it all started but his objective was still as crystal clear to him, as it had been then. He had embarked on the search for a separate identity, trying to defy the mathematical theorem of “Uniqueness of Identity”. “There is only one identity which is unique”. There has to be a way to finding another identity, a separate identity. Or so he thought. The Indo- Pak war, the Canadian War, the ne

A very recent visit to the various shopping Markets in Delhi triggered quite an unusual line of thoughts, which I shall present before you now! If the caption wasn’t explained well by the previous sentence, let me tell you. “We” here, refers to the breed of people called women/girls (and all the others who belong to the genre called Female) Rest of the caption, am sure makes sense now! No, I will not try to answer why women love to shop? Or What women love to shop? I shall “enlighten” you with the phases that occur when women do the “thing” they love- Shop! Phase 1 : The “Nah! Not-so-Good” Phase This is the very first phase, which begins right from the first shop they barge into and although carries on till the last shop, it is most active till they cover one-fourth of the market. General Characteristics - One after another clothes/accessories/foot wears are picked up from the shelves and are piled on to the display table, the same sentence is ranted out while looking at each of them

There is always something very special about the first things in life. This being the First Blog Post, of course it's special! Why something as random as a bunch of clouds in an otherwise clear sky? Well, only to highlight the fact that, that's where I want to reach... Or maybe that's where I belong! And, why only me? Isn't that where everyone wants to reach!?! :)