A Tribute to the Next Door Indian and... My Reflection

How do you define patriotism? Is it only the courage shown by our soldiers in the face of enemy fires? The mental stability that sees them through inhuman conditions they face throughout the year in the highest battlefield on earth, scorching deserts and inhabitable forests… forced to live on creatures that would make a civilian puke, forced to live away from their beloved for months together. What motivates them to take up these tasks I suppose.

Today, I was reading an article in the paper which had stories of soldiers and civilians who had seen action during the Indo – China war. I wonder what I would have done if faced with a similar situation. I wonder if I would ever face such a situation. The paper ran stories of how soldiers survived excess of 15 days without food, surrounded by the enemy… stories of how entire battalions fought to the last bullet rather than retreat to safety.

I wonder what goes on through the mind of a soldier when he realizes that there is no escape and that he has to hold the line as long as he can. I wonder if he ever realizes this fact until a bullet hits him. I guess the officers would know and this makes their last moments even tougher. Being a civilian all that I can do is contemplate on the ifs and buts. But I do wonder, if it is really patriotism that drives our brave, or is it the sense of duty, the sense of not to let down the person standing next to you that runs paramount in their mind. I guess it must be the latter that would be a more powerful motivator. The sense that there is no one else to do the job that leads them to do brave deeds of which bards sing songs as long as life exists. But is this the only way to be patriotic? 

How can we, as civilians, be patriotic? Supporting the Indian cricket team by getting drunk in a pub and screaming at the top of our voices, sitting on the window of our sports car with the Indian flag and getting our hand chopped off by a bus coming in the opposite direction would be a start I guess (exaggeration of some memories). Criticizing the government for the waste of public wealth and holding personal discussions on how this land will never improve and cursing your fate of belonging to such a corrupt society and then, voting the same government back to power, would take you to the next level of intellectual masturbators. Finally, throwing the bundle of plastic bags into the nearby road early in the morning, spitting and peeing wherever you please, jaywalking through busy roads and blaming the accidents as the sole responsibility of the rash drunken drivers would make you the ideal patriot.

You can go a step further by filming a gang rape on a public place and uploading it in the social media and broadcasting on national television in the name of investigative journalism and being the ‘responsible citizen’ who helped nab the ‘culprits’. Wanna be the model citizen? On your way from office have a couple of pegs, buy some petrol, go home, beat up your wife for not giving the second installment of the demanded dowry and for giving birth to a girl, tie them up together and burn them. Though we have lesser model and responsible citizens, in a way we all are intellectual masturbators and ideal patriots.

If you are thinking that I am going to suggest ways out of this, sorry you are mistaken. As for me, I am just going to go by doing my business, pay my taxes… Floyd, travel and trek my way to an early grave if Providence be so kind. Yes, I am going to do NOTHING. You have no idea how productive it can be. As the saying goes, most of the harm that came to this world was done by people who wanted to do something good.

  

And for those whose blood ‘boiled’, or such similar superlatives, and are thinking of joining the Civil Services, please don’t. If you do, you can watch all of the above, every single day, smile, sign and be on your way. If you are lucky, the government might even give you an allowance for toilet paper so that you can wipe off their mess and their ass after they are done (apologies for the unplesantaries and offensive language, if you found any).

I envy the soldiers for choosing the easy way out. Dying once is preferable to dying every single day is what I mean.

Thank You Mr.Nolan for Giving Me a Sleepless Night

I don’t blog movie reviews. It is a matter of choice as I don’t prefer dissecting a work no matter how good or bad it is and debate on the tiny nuances that lead the movie to be a blockbuster or a flop. But Christopher Nolan has forced my hand. I am here not as a film critique, or an expert who has a self assuming aura of ‘know it all’ around him. I am here as what I truly am, one of the million viewers who watched his latest creation The Dark Knight Rises on screen. A viewer who just stepped out of the screener and realized that life and films will never be the same again. A viewer whose faith has been restored in quality cinema after years of disdain and indifference. Yes Mr. Nolan, you have made a believer out of me.

Movies have always had a big impact on me. It has always been something more than mere entertainment. Be it the Lord of the Rings, or the earlier Batman epics, The Departed, Shawshank Redemption, I have this terrible tendency of comparing some acts from these movies to real life. Some lines said in the movies just remain with you till the end of time, like “There is some good left in this world, Mr.Frodo and it is worth fighting for” by Samwise Gamgee or “They teach you that you can either be a cop or a killer, but what I ask you is this… When you are facing a loaded gun, what’s the difference” from Departed, to mention a few.

But it would take more than a genius to conceptualize something like Inception or Prestige or take a ‘good old’ super hero flick like Batman, which is the good defeats the bad and everybody lives happily ever after tale, and turn it into something more than that. Yes even in this movie all of the above does happen. Some might argue it to be a very predictable ending. But I got out of theatre feeling happy that the movie ended the way it did. For the first time I was happy to see the hero survive (this coming from a Director who has no qualms in killing any of his characters). I was happy to see the movie end the way it ended because it gave me hope to look for something anew next time. I left the theatre with a feeling of fulfillment and therein lies the success of the film maker.

After Dark Knight and the ‘wtf’, ‘holy cow’ performance of Heath Ledger as Joker, I had often wondered how Nolan or anyone could beat this performance and that script. How could anyone think of bringing a sequel that will live up to the expectations or how anyone else could even dare to think about making a movie on Batman. But Nolan made a believer out of me. He made me believe that there is always room for improvement and that a person’s most powerful tool is his brain. Remember the thing teachers used to tell us in school that we use only 7% or 11% of our brain’s true potential. I kind of actually believe in it now.

Being a Mallu and owing my schooling to a kick ass ‘boys only’ school I have this inherent cynicism in me, which does not hesitate to pounce on the slightest bit of mediocrity that I find in a movie or in life for that matter. The fact that Malayalam cinema is at least 10 years ahead of any other movie industry in India doesn’t help much. But for all those ‘critics’ out there who criticize this particular movie, I say only this. Try it yourself. Try to write a script so powerful and deep that it leaves you intrigued and brainstorming for hours after. Try to direct a movie which can actually keep the viewers glued to the seats and then produce a sequel to that movie and deliver above the expectations of the viewers. If you cannot do any of this, at least buy a ticket from your own money and go watch the movie, instead of going on free passes to screenings with your knowledgeable façade. In short, change your job and get a life.

I know I have been very one sided and have been showering praises like never before (quite unlike me, my friends will say). But I seriously think I can be allowed a little latitude this time for the sake of my deprived sleep and my pumping adrenaline.

To conclude I would like to quote my friend… “Today you have become something more than a mere mortal, Mr. Nolan… you have become a LEGEND”

What Not to Write a Girl the Last Time You See Her

 “A girl can have amazing effects on your priorities. She can have disastrous effects on the choices you make and the way you lead your life. After I shifted to Hyderabad, leaving all that the wonderful Pune had offered and had yet to offer me, I had nothing else in my mind other than to find my own feet and more importantly find myself again. But the thing with life is that it takes you on a wonderful joy ride and then one fine day it shows you the finger and asks you to deal with it. It was something like that when I first met you. There was this girl with eyes so expressive and like diamonds that you would stake all your wealth on them to get another look and hair so smooth and as long as the winter night... with the smile that would melt away the last remnants of anger in your heart caused due to her immense stupidity and stubbornness. But quite frankly, you find a lot of girls like that in this world and a majority of them are sure to turn out to be shallow and (pardon your grace) dumb. Despite these mental cautionary notes, from the moment I met you, something told me that we are gonna be more than just colleagues. But never was I ready to start a serious relationship of any sort for that matter.

The feeling you give to the world: A fun, easy going girl from a well to do family, over cautious about the way you look, giving utmost importance to what people would think about the way you present yourself and absolutely loves to be the center of attraction. It is even reflected in the way you pose for a picture. The way you dress up every day, the way you carry yourself and the funny accent you have when you speak your native tongue, all points to one inescapable fact (if I were to judge you just by your looks) a typical high class girl who worries more about the size of her bosoms and green of her nail polish, than about what goes around her. This thought din't change that much after those long coffees we had during our first days. Your shopaholic nature and craving for horoscope confirmed the ‘Indian version of the dumb blonde’ in you. But it took lesser time and more conversations between us, for me to realize that you were more than just looks, with a deep sense of mystery which if pondered into, would be an utter unnecessary waste of my time. Nevertheless, I was relieved to find out that you were more than just looks. I was actually surprised at the level you confided in me right from the beginning (never realized I had that effect on girls J). But when I sensed that your ‘best friend’ considered it some kind of competition when he saw me with you, I decided to cut down on the talks. Why hurt... or get hurt for that matter.

Every morning you started our conversation with the same question “How do I look?” and every morning I would just smile. Well, here is what I think: You are undoubtedly one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen. Stylish, confident and sure of yourself. Wonderful sense of dressing and definitely knows to make a first impression. Personally, I feel you could be on the ‘chubbier’ side of things (if you catch my drift). Will definitely fall in love with your hair at first sight. Eyes say a lot more than your words. Though I have caught a devil’s glimpse, I have not ‘observed’ enough to comment on… you know what all. Have a wholesome laugh, but seldom hear it due to unwanted reservations. Traditional wear suites you more than western clothing. Looks ravishing in saree and open locks. A closer look reveals signs of anorexia. I believe there is a hidden animal in you waiting to pounce, but only in front of the person you trust most. Very curvaceous and even a blind man will admire your beauty. Everyday you look beautiful than the day before and your smile comes as a balm to a troubled soul. Totally unwanted and fruitless boasting, which won't get me anywhere, if you ask me. I hate saying this, but I don’t find the need to comment on something that is as visible as light itself. Besides, you look a darling when irritated. I wouldn’t miss that look on your face for anything.

I wish we could stay in touch, though I know it wouldn’t be possible as ‘karma is a bitch’ and my karma takes me elsewhere and I hate mobile phones. But I shall come to see you when the time is right and when I need those long talks with you. Though it might appear that I am appealing you to mend your ways, I am not asking anything of you as it would be futile. Stay the way you are. You are good that way.

Signing off,

Yours always Unfaithfully…"

# Needless to say this letter IS FICTITIOUS

I am From The 80s and Damn Proud Of It

Yes, I am from the 80’s. I am from that decade when computers were still a baby, mobile phones were still on the design board and cable television in a middle class Indian home was a distant dream. I am from that age when fathers did not ‘send their kids to their room so that they could think about what wrong they had done’, instead, they used to rip off the meanest branch from the nearest guava tree (a rarity today) and let their kids have it so that ‘the wrong’ happened just one time (and later a biryani to remind you of their love). I am from that age when the Sunday evening movie on Doordarshan was the only time a movie was aired on the national television and 5 p.m. to 6 p.m. were the happiest in a kid’s day when they aired Mickey Mouse and Duck Tales on DD2. I am from that age when a kiss from your mother and a smile from your father were the greatest gifts you could get for winning a prize in school. I am from that age where you woke up to a kiss from your mother on your birthday and you dint know the meaning of ‘birthday party’.

I am from that age when mothers had premonitions that their sons would need a good pair of uniform for the annual school day, as they should look their best when collecting an award in front of the whole school. I am from that age when mothers used to spend their Sundays scrubbing off the last ounce of the darkest dirt from their sons’ uniform only to be made dirty on the following Mondays (not because washing machines were not available, but they just couldn’t do their job).

I am from that age where 50 rupees was the greatest luxury a teenager could have. It meant that next week he could actually take an auto home from the nearest bus stop and still afford a snack with his mates after the evening tuition. I am from that age where evening rain in school meant just one thing. Football!!! I am from that age where the first time you get cable television in your home was after the 10^th standard exams. I am from that age where parents are happy with the marks you score and don’t bother about their neighbor’s children’s marks. I am from that age where passing your Physics exam in school meant that you are assured to get more than 80% for the board. I am from that age where a 300ml bottle of Pepsi was sufficient to quench the thirst of 5 friends. I am from that age when a desktop with 6.3GB hard disk and 64MB RAM was the ‘latest model’ you could get in your teens. I am from that age where bicycles were your friend for life and a ride in an auto rickshaw was a luxury you could not afford. I am from that age when a balcony ticket cost you 30 bucks and pop corn just 10.

I am from that age where teens knew the meaning of the words ‘punctuality’ and ‘patience’ because there were no mobile phones to ‘text’ or call someone waiting for you. I am from that age when the first mobile phone you got was during the second year of college and that too the basic set with just calling and texting facilities. I am from that age when you had to rely on YOUR communication skills to find your way to a place and not the GPS on your mobile. I am from that age where you could get enough petrol for 3 days for just 30 rupees and still the bike won't go on reserve. I am from that age when your best friends, including girls, dint give a damn if you wished them for their birthday or not. I am from that age where your friends used to tell you ‘Don’t worry man I got your back’ and they actually meant it. I am from that age when you could tell your friend ‘You are wrong’ and needn’t worry about him misunderstanding your intentions. I am from that age where young adults don’t mind travelling in general compartments of trains and prefer the road side bundy to a star restaurant everyday of the week and twice on a Sunday.

Most importantly, I am from that age which believed and still believes that, ‘Whatever that doesn’t kill you just makes you stronger’. So take caution before messing with me or anyone from the 80s. Yes, I am from the 80s and damn proud of it.

The Fetish For Abbreviations

By the end of my college days (despite having a job in hand), the obvious question lingering my parents' minds was, What Next? "When are you scheduling your GRE?" My dad asked me out of the blue. How would he understand the ecstasy and sense of accomplishment an 'engineer' feels when he has managed to pass all his subjects with just a week's prior preparation. Now he wants me to do Masters in a discipline which I got my Bachelor's degree in the most 'undisciplined' way. "Sorry Dad. Maybe when monkeys start using tools..." (a smile was all that was evident to him though). "I had saved money for your MS, but maybe now I would invest it in something". "You do that Dad. You should know a bad investment when you see one (by now)". There ended my tryst with MS and to live the "American Dream" the rest of my life.

After that came the question of CAT. I had to show that I was interested in something other than a software job. So during family functions, I would play the 'Padawan' to the masters in the family who would lecture me how to go about getting an MBA. (sorry cousins... no disrespect meant). It served the purpose for 3 years, since I traveled home utmost twice a year and the probability that I met up with any of my relatives was close to zero (since most of them were located at different time zones and my time zone ensured that tickets were impossible to get when they traveled home). But I did burn my hands on CAT once. The day was unforgettable. (My 'friend's' engagement). There, she indirectly applied for a visa to a 'cleaner, whiter' place, here I was sitting in a dingy Mumbai classroom surrounded by guys and girls glued to the monitor pondering over the answer to an English passage, half of the words used in which would invite a comment "What the f*** does this mean!!!!" I was done with 'THE CAT'. After that I never dared to think about IIMs let alone "beyond IIMs" ;).

My troubles did not end there. I was happy with the 'work' I used to do, especially since my leaves were approved every time I raised them (most were for a period of not less than 10 days), I got to play football almost everyday and when my team lead realized my 'potential' to lead a team, my life was made. I could practically 'allocate' work to my team to 'optimize' the efforts and 'maximize' the output (you learn the true meaning of these three quoted words, your life is set in any services industry). In short I was paid to travel, play and party as long as I made sure that 'Delivery was not impacted'. But by that time, my friends started flying to other countries as "Onsite Coordinators" AKA "ONCs". I, being a son who seldom hides anything from my parents and also being someone who grew tired of finding 'stuff' to talk to my folks back home who called me twice a day, divulged this fact to them. But the biggest heart breaker was when the counter question came from my mom, who was always at the brink of tears when I left home from the yearly visit. "Mom!!! You want me to go thousands of miles away from you?" "It is OK son, now is the time to make a few savings. After all you must get married within a year or at the maximum two".

Now I was in serious trouble. Marriage within two years? Housing loan, car loan, kids (only if they could come in loan), utility bills, tuition fees (I myself hated going to those chambers, now I was to bring some poor soul into this world to do the same) no more travelling or trekking, no more football, no more late night drives... all these came gushing into my mind. Having spent considerable time with the opposite sex I was well aware of the disasters one could commit. Some pointers to those budding young minds in search of 'true love'. Once you find your 'true love' you...
1. Must never look at another girl's face in an 'admiring' way. Be extra careful with your eye ball movements.
2. Be ready to spend your weekends and your evenings in malls and shops and be ready with "this looks good on you honey", "the red is too red" (goes for all the colors) "the color of the dress really highlights your eyes", "don't look at the price tag, if you like it, take it". Before you throw the last comment, be sure YOU have had a good look at the price tag. (Thanks Dad, for looking after me every last week of the month for a year after I started my career earning more than you did for the first 20 years of your life)
3. Play the above dialogues in an infinite loop as long as you go shopping.
4. Never forget dates. The day you first met your 'true love'. The day you first said 'I love you', the day you had your first kiss (if you turn out to be that odd lucky bastard) and most important of all the day your 'true love' was born.

Enough of pointers. Let's get back to the problem at hand. I was to be chained forever in the 'sacred' bond of marriage within two years and here I was managing my finances for a month at a time (thankfully by myself now). Something had to be done. That something was done. You know, nowhere in economics is it said that market value decides the inherent strength of an economy. But in India, marriages are decided by the market value of the groom. Here I was working in an MNC, with a highly probable chance to live the 'American Dream' either as an ONC or after GMAT (another CAT, only this time you get to burn your hands in front of the whole world, especially the Chinese), my market value was high enough. Not as much as those who had BTech from IITs and then MBA from IIMs (the four abbreviations, parents are ready to kill for in the middle class India), but still pretty high.

So what did I do. I said the same thing to my parents and my boss back at work. "I AM QUITTING MY JOB".

Six months of unemployment and 20 kilos of extra body mass later, here I am, at peace, enjoying a cloudy summer afternoon in my home, all alone, thinking what is wrong with all these people, running behind luxuries that will only lead them into a never ending spiral, and of course enjoying my mom's food. But the count down to the obvious question has already begun in the remote corners of my parents' minds.

What Next? Banyan trees, starvation and penance have become too old fashioned (definitely starvation!!!!). The answer may lie where water and earth meets and you have divine air and the drink of Gods filling your mind, when you ponder over the ultimate meaning of cycle of life and death. Confused? Think Goa, booze and green.

Death

Death - a truth which all of us must confront someday or the other. When life seems to go all good and strong, when all the worries seems to diminish in the fading evening light, death strikes as a rude reminder of what is in store for all of us in the future. No matter how much we earn, no matter how much good we do to people we know and love or to complete strangers or even if we decide to walk the ‘dark’ side of life, we all end up dead one day. The culmination of all things good and bad is death. It has often left me wondering, the whole make up of the lives we live. What is the purpose of living an honorable life, finding happiness in our puny success or feeling dejected when we fail, when the end of us all happens the same way? What difference does it make, if we loot and plunder, have all the pleasures of this world, no matter how devious the means might be, no matter whom all we hurt in the process, or we lead an honorable, responsible life?

Not to give this write up a religious taste or to repeat the classic fallacy of ‘devil sights scripture for his means’, but for the sake of argument… take the case of two of the greatest epics ever written in the history of mankind. The Mahabharata and the Ramayana.

In the end, when it was Duryodhana’s turn to die, he had neither remorse nor regret. On the contrary he was happy that he lived his life purely on his terms. Waged wars at his will. Slept with all the women he wanted to. Engaged in all forms of ‘forbidden pleasures’ and yet he attained moksha and got a seat in Swarga. The reason given for this end was that all through his life he followed his ‘kshatriya dharma’ to the last steadfast syllable. Now to take the case of his cousin Yudhishtira, he was considered to be the epitome of dharma. The man never lied in his life, was steadfast and truthful in his service to his elders and had all the good you could think of in a man. Yet, he was made to suffer through his entire life, was tested by his father Yama at every turn of his life. After the Great War, the Pandavas were left to rule the kingdom, but with no one by their side. All their beloved, including their very own sons were killed in the battle. He even had to endure the death of his brothers one by one, not in the field of battle like a Kshatriya could wish for, but on their journey towards ultimate salvation. When finally he reached Swarga he was surprised to see all his cousins whom he and his brothers had slain in the name of dharma enjoying the peace and tranquility and also the luxuries of Swarga.

Turn the page of history to Ramayana now. Here we have yet another epitome of incorruptibility and manhood. ‘The’ Ram himself. Yet, after the entire fiasco of battle of good over evil culminated in his getting back Sita from Ravana, which was done to save her chastity and his honor, at the mindless squabbling of some of his subjects, he forced his wife to undergo the test of chastity by sitting on a bed of fire. This act defies logic and defeats the total purpose of the war he waged. This humiliation was repeated on Sita two separate times at the end of which she left him and wandered off into the forest.  I still wonder why the men of old forge stories like this which leave you intriguing about what the right path is. Why do they leave the story in a big question mark where you are forced to question the motive of the hero, who otherwise is supposed to be as good as good can be? Why do they stain these immortal characters with the fallibility and frailty of a normal human? Ultimately what purpose does telling such a story serve?

While Mahabharata gave birth to one of the, if not the greatest manipulators in the history of mankind – no one, mind you no one, whether it is in fact or fiction comes close to this character, Krishna – Ramayana gave birth to the idea of the ideal person and the ideal kingdom. Mahabharata has single handedly redefined all the actions that were performed and that will be performed time immemorial by one single phrase “it is not the path, but the aim that is important and ultimate”.

Yet, all the upholders of justice and the ‘doers of good’ have invariably suffered and all the stories of the old are explained in such a way as to end their suffering. Somehow they have lead us to believe that the end of all suffering is salvation and happiness. But the other side of the story is that the perpetrators have their way throughout their life, enjoy all the earthly pleasures and glories, except when the moment of truth beckons for the victory of good over evil. Though good and evil are totally based on perspective, except in rare cases where a logical explanation cannot and must not be sought for certain heinous crimes, we shall leave that topic for another time.

Coming back to where I started, if the ultimate end of all the things, good and evil, as we know it is death, why should we bother to live according to the norms set by the society? Why should status, prestige, family honour, be reasons or rather priorities while taking decisions which set the course of our lives? When the norm of the world is increasingly bending towards ‘the survival of the fittest’ principle, for man and beast alike, why should emotions and considerations for others rule the day? Don’t you think it is justified if we act selfishly to meet our own gains, if we disregard the rights of others and go to any extend to get what we need?

Phrases like “It’s not who you are, but what you that defines you” and “It’s not when you die but how you live your life that counts” have no meaning in the long run. Time is a cruel manipulator who with one turn of its spoke can undo whatever (good or bad) we have done. It can make it seem like we have never existed. History, as it is told, is at the mercy of the living who can twist the facts to their liking to make a saint look like a sinner, a tyrant like a humanitarian and a homicidal pedophile, the caretaker of lost children. Examples are as clear as dust kicked up by horses’ hoofs on a dusty road, in our rich history. I refrain from quoting any. In short, all that we do has a better chance of either being forgotten or twisted for someone else’s prerogative rather than being told in its element and in its essence. A century or so from now, any one of our young officers in the army (for example) can be quoted in one of the passing conversations as a brave soul who kept his country above his personal gains and vendetta, or as a cruel officer who was a part of or who oversaw a genocide somewhere. Both these might be true. But the fact is by committing the genocide, he might have been executing an order, he might have been forced due to some unknown or unheard factors. All this lies at the mercy of the ‘story teller’. Our cases are no different.

We are caught in this life long spiral, where we are forced to make a living for ourselves, forced to live a respectable life and forced to do what other people do and continue doing all these mundane activities for our entire lifecycle until the spiral finally ends in our death. Anarchy seems to be the most logical and just of all.

I am not lost or desperate or emotionally disturbed. But I would love to be disproved of the above opinion I have put forth. If any of the readers have a counter argument pray you share.

2011... In Retrospection

2011… what should I say about the year that was? To summarize, I wish I could relive it again. In the words of my friend “Ettinabhuja, Chandra Tal, Kumaraparvatha”. These words might seem just gibberish to you. But these mean a lot more, than I can explain it in the form of words, to me and some people very close to me. I am not even trying to capture the essence of these words in this post as it would be nothing short of futile. Rather I would focus on how the year meant more to me than these three words.

The year couldn’t have begun any better. Alone… En route Pune to Bangalore to Trivandrum by bus. As expected, the entire year I was travelling... sometimes for fun, sometimes for adventure and a couple of times for football. Picking up the bag and just walking out of the front door to places unknown and unseen to me became a habit. The sight of my backpack in office became so common that it prompted my colleagues to ask me the question “Where to today?” more than often. All this said and done, travelling was only a part of what happened during the year. A location shift, quitting my job and falling in love (and still in love) with a girl whom I have never even met till now (more in love with the IDEA of such a girl) being the other highlights I can remember. All in all, if someone asked me to point out one thing I would like to forget that happened last year, I would reply him, “I guess it’s already done as I don’t remember!!!”

But the essence of the year lies in these small instances which makes you feel special and these tiny hints that people give you which makes you feel proud about yourself, maybe like an unexpected reward from your company, a letter from your manager, a story that makes you idolize someone instantly, the hint of sadness and that tear your friend tried to hide in vain when you had to leave, the words “I will miss you” said right from the heart, the words “You are the best” from a lifelong friend and last but not the least, the words “I have faith in you” coming from the people you love. Yes, I had it all last year. As I pen down these words, there are a lot more that I would like to add to the previous list, but I am exercising caution. I realize that this post has just been a teaser and I am ending it in an abrupt halt. But this is intended to a select few who will understand every word of what is written above.

I know not what the year ahead has in store for me. It would be folly to think that it would be smooth and welcoming, seeing the tasks I have at hand. All that I can do is hope the year holds something promising ahead. So far everything seems going well. But as I so often say, life has its way of showing the finger when you least expect and then asking you to deal with it. Well, if and when that happens, I shall smile and remember the three words my friend told me... “Ettinabhuja, Chandra Tal, Kumaraparvatha”.