Monday, 31 March 2008

its never too late to have a happy childhood

Walk in the rain, jump in mud puddles, collect rocks, rainbows and roses, smell flowers, blow bubbles, stop along the way, build sandcastles, say hello to everyone, go barefoot, go on adventures, act silly, fly kites, have a merry heart, talk with animals, sing in the shower, read childrens' books, take bubble baths, get new sneakers, hold hands and hug and kiss, dance, laugh and cry for the health of it, wonder and wander around, feel happy and precious and innocent, feel scared, feel sad, feel mad, give up worry and guilt and shame, say yes, say no, say the magic words, ask lots of questions, ride bicycles, draw and paint, see things differently, fall down and get up again, look at the sky, watch the sun rise and sun set, watch clouds and name their shapes, watch the moon and stars come out, trust the universe, stay up late, climb trees, daydream, do nothing and do it very well, learn new stuff, be excited about everything, be a clown, enjoy having a body, listen to music, find out how things work, make up new rules, tell stories, save the world, make friends with the other kids on the block, and do anything else that brings more happiness, celebration, health, love, joy, creativity, pleasure, abundance, grace, self-esteem, courage, balance, spontaneity, passion, beauty, peace, relaxation, communication and life energy to...all living beings on this planet.
-Bruce Williamson, It's Never Too Late To Have A Happy Childhood, 1987

whenever i read this above piece, i feel jubilant for no apparent reason. funny that it may sound but i feel like i splashed a handful of fresh water on my face. writing this down in the middle of the night is even crazier. the innocent childhood is a blurry picture, a distant out of reach age. sad it is that we grow up too fast, little realizing what we are letting go so soon.

Sunday, 30 March 2008

the art of roti making

Roti is a loaf of small/medium/large size bread made out of wheat in Sub continent. and any meal without it is sort of incomplete. the only other portion that can replace it is rice that we take from our ex east Pk (Bangladesh) i hope my definition is sound enough.
cooking is an art and so is roti making. though you would never learn this art from any of the cooking classes you join. they would teach you everything thats got difficult names to pronounce those being Chinese, continental, French and Thai dishes etc. in short everything that is 'fad'.
roti making art is passed on from one generation to the next in the sub continent. whether you like it or not, your mother or grandmother would be the one giving you lessons on succeeding at this work of art that requires both precision and skill and also patience( which unfortunately i lack ehehe) which i bet Picasso and Rachael would have been as bad as i am on it.

sleeves get rolled up, apron comes handy, i turn on the stove and starts my roti making adventure. a handful of dough that i try to shape round (my mum would highly disagree to this) with my hands and then i carefully place it on counter top. then its the rolling pin, me and the dough in a fierce battle. the rolling pin glides over this wheat loaf until you are able to achieve a perfect round shape, balanced in proportion and texture. with me the whole procedure becomes a bit different accompanied with a lot of uffs and ughhs and redoing of the dough shape several times.

then its easy or perhaps not. after a few seconds of rolling the pin on the dough it starts to stick to it and then it makes your life hell. dont think i am exaggerating, its true. thank God there is extra flour to sprinkle over the dough. a just few more seconds rolling to and fro and there you go with a reasonably good size of roti in the making. here comes the desi clapping part. the roti has to be taken in one hand and then by the way of clapping both hands, one has to shift the roti from left to right and right to left a couple of times till it gets not too thick and not too thin. just like we order thick crust or thin crust for the pizza.

having gone through the whole process, the roti is then put on the tawa, a flat round griddle that was already placed on the stove. a few twists and turns on the stove is good enough and then its cooked, voila! your done. its ready to eat.
what can go wrong? the roti you made could be a bit deshaped perhaps resembling a map of some continent or so. but i have been lucky with this or maybe i have always been good with all kind of shapes hehehe. so its usually round or oval. the second bad roti example is when it becomes hard like a papur. thats worse i tell you. reason? extra flour used to get rid of the sticky dough.

wikipedia says: Roti is the traditional Indian bread, normally eaten with curries or cooked vegetables. It is made most often from wheat flour, cooked on a flat or slightly concave iron griddle called a tawa. It is similar to a tortilla in appearance.

Saturday, 29 March 2008


The unfathomable depths. The sense of abyss and the eerie air of the unpredictable.The sun dips and emerges over the horizon that is so close yet so out of reach. The pallid sun of the winters is soothing that sends a river of warmth down my exhausted body. I lie down on the green spiked grass and feel its bristles underneath my numb mass. Face upwards at the wide pale winter sky, I watch rather intently at the sun hiding behind the fleecy clouds.

Nearby the sea waves softly danced on the shore, as if trying not to wake me up. the tenderness in the waves and the playful sound of the water sent me into another dimension. a force, a weight dawned on my mind. its that time i find escapes. coward i am i know. but with that force, the haunting feeling of the unknown, i was exceptionally at ease. i had moments of peace to myself. my mood was to turn back a few pages of my life. not that i have lived a lot. nostalgia, however, becomes our strength on unusual occasions. just like this one. everything fades out. its you and the spotlight, a few dreamy images and a surreal environ. soon exhausted and tired i decided to close the chapter of nostalgia. its not going to work today. i soon realized its a lazy day, when you just want to breathe. and nothing else matters. its like you want to flow with time. you leave everything on nature, on fate good or bad. you want to sleep but you dont want to close your eyes. you feel your throat going dry but water is not the answer to this thirst. you want to hold onto something or someone but are hesitant. you listen to the beat of your heart but its different today, strange, distant. is it really me?

i decided to get up, straighten myself and move a muscle or two. yet i found all my strength having flown to a land faraway. faraway. what kind of a place would it be? like the one we read about in our childhood story books?. a land so fantastic with everything about it so magic like. enchanted woods, thick tall trees that touched the snowy clouds. you climbed and climbed and discovered fairies, elves and eccentric beings dwelling in it.

collecting myself when i finally decided, yet again to get up; sea waves had silenced themselves but glided to and fro. the grass underneath me felt soft and wet. the wind pulled me up. i jumped off my bed and smiled to myself.

Friday, 28 March 2008

a sin of all

"...there is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft..."

"When you kill a man you steal a life,"Baba said. "You steal his wife's right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you lie, you steal someone's right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness. Do you see?"

"there is no act more wretched than stealing, Amir," Baba said. "A man who takes whats not his to take, be it life or a loaf of naan i spit on such a man..."

Dialogue b/w Amir jan and baba from The Kite Runner.

i found these dialogues quite interesting. and this book was a great reading too.
stealing is in a way sin of all sins. we consider shirk to be the biggest though. starting from square one, defining what sin actually is becomes more important. i would like the readers to pour in their comments about this.

Thursday, 27 March 2008

shades of nature

I could sit for hours and hours and look at the lush green leaves, thick, brown tree trunks and blanket of dark clouds over the light blue sky. Like a little adorable kid, the sun peeped out from among the fortress of clouds. Today in particular, I saw the yellow and orange sun to be a little powerless; overshadowed by the snow white caravan of clouds conquering the wide, infinite sky as far as my vision went.

I often ask myself which is more beautiful and spell bounding; the morning sky or the starlit one. However, as I try to judge and observe I discover that there is more…

In moments the sky was all clear, spotless blue and there a round yellow sun proudly shone over its dynasty. As the day started to pass, a little breeze blew, cool and soothing. It’s always the same and welcoming. It brushes past you, touches your skin, caresses your hair and the dupatta (scarf) flies behind you rhythmically. While I stood on the roof top of my house and enjoyed the pampering nature; nearby a towering, tall tree caught my attention. The fresh lush green, graceful, leaves playfully moved to and fro to the enchanting songs of the birds. Robin hoods, sparrows, woody woodpeckers, parrots all sung and fluttered their wings as the tree danced with them. I wondered for long about the adorable company they are always to each other and got engrossed in the magical spell of the nature.

Time slipped by like sand slips out of your hands no matter how tight your grip is. It deceives us or we deceive it I wonder…..

The sky was no longer vibrant or sharp. It had transformed into a clear, silent and dull blue, waiting for something. And it happened. It was as if someone started playing with the colours, splashing them on the colossal canvas of sky. The sun started to set and sank down slowly; surrounded by shades of dim yellow, spread out orange and peach, mixed with the soft tones of pink. The wait seemed to have been worth it. How peaceful everything looked. The nature seems most engulfing and captivating at this time of the day. As my thoughts too slowed down with the setting sun, I realized how everything around had submitted itself to nature. The slow parting movements of the drowning sun with the birds flying away towards their destinies followed an invisible command. The call for prayer tied the final knot to the magnificent episode of sun setting.

Followed by twilight, night spreads its magical, mystical deep sapphire shade above. In no time the myriad of stars began to twinkle like some unique gems embedded in the velvety sky. I gazed up the enormous deep blue sky shaded with purple. A full moon swam in the pool of enigmatic darkness above. Perfect round, white and every poet’s darling. So what is it that forces the poets to say so much about the moon comparing it to their beloveds?

I thought of the infant moon, still in its formation. This thin crescent moon veiled by fleecy clouds on the first of every Islamic month pays homage to the Creator and Nurturer on the entire entity. The more I thought of the world around me, the more I became oblivious of another reality that we indulge in every single day of our lives, segregated from nature.

The night had indeed grown deeper around me. One close rendezvous with nature had answered the infinite questions I struggled to find ‘it is always somewhere morning in the world…’

a few words

in the search of truth
on the road of doubts
i find my way
in the light of the sun
through the deep twilights.

within a grain of sand,
and a drop of dew,
in a shell of pearl,
and petal of a flower,
you find what you may
and you lose what you want

its the faces you see
and the voices you hear
the people you hug,
and the cheeks that you kiss
all fades out
except whats yours
and yours is none

then you remember,
its all with the wind
that blew past your home
took away stories,
that you were part of.

its just a few words,
and no coherent thoughts
written on a page.
might fade away too
or perhaps the wind
would blow again
and the page would fly along
with a rhythm trailing behind

Tuesday, 25 March 2008

this is my story

Last year when i was making my way back home this young man caught my attention. the best option i had was my cell phone camera. it might not be clear and i am no photographer but this man's story of hunger, poverty, and helplessness couldn't have been any more obvious. his life and its tragedies are not only his. he is representing many like him who live insecure and maimed lives everyday in search of odd jobs, food and shelter. they don't know what fate holds for them the next day but something keeps them going.

Friday, 21 March 2008

clouds in water

i took this picture last year in summers. the reflection of clouds and the sun peeping out looked beautiful in the rain water. i hope everyone can see it :p

a dialogue

* : what is hope to you?
! : there is no such thing as 'hope'
* : do you believe in God?
! : ya..
* : then you surely believe in hope too.

Sunday, 16 March 2008

savage man vs civilized man

No matter how much a man achieves in terms of science, technology, medicine or civilization; he has always been in need of looking back in the past. No matter how much he thinks he has given the world in terms of development and basic necessities he still feels incomplete. A part of him is missing and thus he always looks back; opens the half torn, half forgotten pages from the chapters of history. Questions about his existence and mortality always haunt him. Thus he directs himself back to his roots. Roots. That is what we all quest for.
Our identity, answers to some twisted puzzling questions and discovery of truth always belongs to roots. Thus starts a civilized, educated and polished man's hunt for several countless queries. He sets himself on the road that according to him would lead him out of the maze he has lost himself into. He untangles himself from the chains of society and like an Olympics’ athlete starts running on the road that promises a lot but leaves him tired, out of breath and full of doubts.
He wants to learn all about his ancestors, their lives, their experiences and the world before him intrigues him. He wants to go back in time and see for himself what his species used to do. No wonder how much we love watching all those science fiction movies about time machine so often!
Man has travelled a long journey from savage being to a civilized being. In a way he deceived his counterparts and achieved for himself a distinctive place in the world. Having done that he made zoos and now the animal rights activists promote safari parks for the freedom of his counterpart. But he never forgot them did he? Just as he began chaining himself in the fashion of being civilized he also set apart a place for the still uncouth, uncivilized, brainless animals. He put them in cages, placed a ticket on them and told everyone to come and watch these species who have achieved nothing for themselves. One would ask then why does man spare the kingdom of jungle. The life of jungle is something that still fascinates man. It reminds him of how he is from within; uncouth, barbaric, always striving to win the survival of the fittest battle. Rousseau a philosopher and literary figure held the thesis that man and the civil society stand in contradiction to each other. He believed in the natural goodness of man, the savage noble. ‘Savage noble’ is contradictory in itself. But that was his point. At least man was what he was. As long as he was unaware and oblivious of the modern jargon devised by his own 'genius intellect' he was a savage. he knew that and that realization made him noble. Thus the term savage noble. The society has plagued the genuine man; it has torn away the state of nature from him.
Today man has built a society on the foundations of justice, equality and honesty believing he has managed to leave behind the life of savageness. But as soon as he laid down those foundations he forgot all about them. Today we all talk about rights and equality and freedom. But as Rousseau’s adage goes ‘man was born free but everywhere he is in shackles.” Today a woman coming from an apparently educated and a well off family is seen out in streets protesting for the rights of women who are the victims of inequality. However, would this woman one day be able to accept the same poor and uneducated person stand equal to her? No matter how much we pretend to be fighting for the rights of others, there lingers a fear in us, a complex. Thus this educated woman would always want her subject to work for her as a maid but never her equal. There is a fear that her subject would begin to know more than she does and might one day take over. This is feudalism in a different light.

No matter how many face packs a woman applies and no matter how much a man dresses himself up, he would still be the savage from inside. We can hide the dirt of our bodies and the smell of barbarism by the clothes that glitter and cologne that makes you smell heavenly but you can never wash away that dirt. Just like Lady Macbeth failed to wash the blood off her hands. The guilt persists.

So aptly did Bano Qudsiya say that we are all like vultures, a bird of prey who feed upon the dead. There is some selfish delight in taking possession of our counterparts as mere subjects and then feed upon them like the vulture full of greed. The greed of self preservation, to sustain oneself man has tried hard to conceal his nature. And my limited knowledge exhausts me here. However one other point springs from all this contemplation; what factor drives man to do certain actions? Is it the biological, instinctual foundations or is it the influence of the society?
The savage man and his rawness still resides somewhere deep inside him. The only difference is that the reflection we look at in the mirror is the new us, the polished and civilized beings. We take pride and indulge in vanity little realizing that perhaps civilization is just a hoax.
What perhaps Rousseau failed to understand was that it doesn’t really matter if man stays in the state of nature or goes on to achieve civilization. Both are the extreme ways after all.

Saturday, 15 March 2008


Swallowing that chocolate you just ate
May have been your fatal mistake!
Your smooth complexion will get lumps and spots,
Your lips will go brown and your teeth will all rot.
Your breath will go smelly - it may make you sick,
Not to mention your waistline expanding a bit!
After eating that chocolate with its lack of nutrition,
You will need to visit your local beautician.
But no matter how ugly you may turn out to be
You will always be sweet and beautiful to me.

Kevin Missen

Friday, 14 March 2008

shud i or shud i not?

Another day passes by in yawning and stretching and day dreaming. Amidst such a vigorous routine i had my exams. and recently i have started taking them a bit easy on myself. my strategy is dont study if you dont feel like it. and believe me it works. it does wonders for you. before i make my precious forced readers go to sleep, there is something even more tempting that would bore you beyond your tiny imagination. keep on reading. its ok
I just got an email i have received undoubtedly like some 10 times? and i am not exaggerating. this mail is apparently interesting because it tell you all about your zodiac sign. and people who dont even believe in stars and astrology still read stuff like this. i read it too and i have read my star every time. and every time it says all the things about me that are not even tad bit related to me! do i need to add here the word 'watever' in the coolest of accents? anyways getting straight to my point in reference to the email. after every zodiac sign's detail it has a warning. yes, thats right. although its not a typical chain mail but i think it does have some relation to that genre. at the end of my sign it says "20 years of bad luck if you do not forward." yes i just copy pasted the golden words! so there comes a terrible warning that involves threats that are going to last for your life time. oh Hell. however, even this warning isnt what i wanted to point out. there is an extreme case of biased and partial elements in this email and thats what offended me. i mean the writer of the email writes all good stuff about my zodiac but then threatens me and to top it off, i notice by some miracle that the criteria for punishments varies from one sign to another. now this is what you call discrimination!! hmpf! For some complicated and scientific reason scorpio got lucky and managed only, 4 years of bad luck!
I was wondering if these punishments are somehow or the other related to the original sin? i will have to check with the author of the email. hmmmm
Well guess what? thats not the end of the bad omen session. there is still more for me and perhaps for you too when i forward the avengeful email *evil laughter*.Perplexed and trembling with fear and uncertainty looming over one's head regarding their future; the readers like me are bombarded with yet another threat. this one doesnt really make sense ( like the earlier one made, hah!) it says something like this :

Send away!!~ Ready .. set............ GO!
1-3 people= 1 minute of luck
4-7 people= 1 hour of luck
8-12 people = 1 day of luck
13-17 People = 1 week of luck
18-22 people = 1 month of luck
23-27 people = 3 Months of luck
28-32 people = 7 months of luck
33-37 people = 1 year of luck

Yes again copy paste. i have to bcoz i cannot take a curse on my poor petite self while typing those dark words with my own pretty little hands, can i? this last piece, however, complicates the whole procedure of forwarding the mail. is this last warning inclusive of the previous 20 years of bad luck? or perhaps it is a bonus for the people, just to motivate and encourage them to pass it on with a reward in hand. Ah..what a fine gentleman, so considerate and generous.

now, now dont make faces at what a useless entry this was. i told you in the beginning that i have this evil deed up my sleeve.

Monday, 10 March 2008

more breaths lost

year 2008.
5 bomb blasts in Lahore.
I have a dream about an earthquake. I wake up to my friend's sms "bomb blasts in model town and mall road, everyone ok?". A few minutes later, i try to figure out was it a dream i had or was that the sound of blast in model town.
My mum's tired, she feels weak and worried. She says to me "look at your face, you'll regret later for not taking milk." Since having heard the blasts this morning she doesnt feel like cooking anything but she tells milk's good for me. hope.
Along with my family i stare at that 29 inch box as if watching my favourite show. The more we watch, the more i see my mum's, dad's, bhai's, bhabi's shoulders stoop low with a burden, their faces grow old, and yet we stare.
there is no tomorrow. yet i open my books to absorb everything for the next exam.
a ruined demolished building, injured or dead people buried under the debris, burning cars, a dead bird, shattered window glass and Quaid's picture still hanging from the wall- target FIA. mission accomplished? the news channels rerun all the clips they managed to get and display them somewhat proudly. we watch.
we watch as the names of the victims are soon reduced to numerical figures. the figure tolls from single digit to double and the once alive are now only recognized by numbers. 24 died.

news scroll reads: "........ nay is wakiay ki muzzamat ki hai. " dont these people get tired of repeating the same lines? who did they sell their conscience to? how short is their memory?

how many deaths will it take till he knows
that too many people have died?

Friday, 7 March 2008


Do we need reasons to carry some emotion? Like i have been happy all day long today. Reason? None, just that my exam went real bakwas. I think thats one good reason to be happy about :D
Everyone who found me happy made sure they asked me the reason and for a second i was like, hey ya right why am i so happy today? But then do we really need reasons to have a positive emotion within us? We have enough reasons to be sad about, to feel suicidal about and remain forlorn and despondent.
A little thought, a tiny moment of contemplation from my shallow depths made me realize that half the time we keep on thinking and re thinking, trying to justify the reasons behind our happiness. we need logic for everything we do. everyday of our college we keep complaining over the most illogical of reasons they set to confine us. This means that the college admin does something without actually any solid reasoning. Great.
so whats happiness after all? An emotion. under rated or over rated. temporary thats for sure. you never know when it starts and the moment you start wondering it ends. happiness is a moment. only a small fragment from the huge canvas of our lives. a tiny dot, a bubble that bursts so soon. it slips from your hands like sand slips through your fingers and as it flows it tickles you on its way.
can happiness be a selfish feeling? some say happiness is born when you put a smile on others. but sometimes we want something for ourselves too. after all selfishness is one of the prominent characteristics of being human. what remains the origin of happiness is hidden. did Cain feel happiness after the murder of Abel? Was he happy having gotten rid of his rival or was his burial of Abel an act of burying his own guilt.
there are questions and i know the answers. there is more than just one answer to every question we ask. how much is true is a myth. coz in recent times truth has come to being relative. perhaps its just a perception. like my favourite saying goes. "there are three sides to a story; your side, my side and the truth" which means that your and my side are just perceptions but truth is a separate entity. it is something we over look in the process of striving for truth itself. we start to confuse conventions with truth. what people generally accept becomes truth for us. there might come a time when someone would start to doubt your existence only on the basis that truth is relative and according to them, you dont really exist. the dictionary categorizes truth as an 'indisputable fact'. if it is indisputable then why do we drain out our energies in convincing everyone to believe it. if truth is unquestionably real that is to say indisputable then it should show itself to be so. thus i dont really need to justify my state of happiness with a reason that people would think is true. Some would say that since truth is subjective, a matter of opinion, it might be true for you but not for others. in a way you are saying that we all live with our lies but hold on to them as the ultimate truth. what is a lie? how can we assess a lie in the light of truth which itself is full of doubts. help from a dictionary suggests that lie is 'an intentional untruth'. how close is truth to a lie? unlike good and evil, truth and lie are not the total opposites of each other. Basically a lie is a prism dispersing out numerous versions of truth depending on our range of perception. its like saying ok fine whatever suits you is true, ironically it means that you take a lie and present it to be true only because you selfishly assume that it is an objective reality. did Cain have to go through a mind boggling journey too? his actions were subjective , his sacrifice was subjective. if all our actions are subjective based on our individual perceptions then our truth too stands in contradiction to objective reality. what is objective reality? According to Einstein there is a real world that exists away from our conceptions, perceptions, beliefs and relativity. which brings us to the point that there is always a third side to every statement, every story. truth exists in objectivity beyond our shallow interpretation of it. the following conversation ties the final knot to the absoluteness of truth or perhaps we are made to think...

Protagoras: Truth is relative. It is only a matter of opinion.

Socrates: You mean that truth is mere subjective opinion?

Protagoras: Exactly. What is true for you is true for you, and what is true for me, is true for me. Truth is subjective.

Socrates: Do you really mean that? That my opinion is true by virtue of its being my opinion?

Protagoras: Indeed I do.

Socrates: My opinion is: Truth is absolute, not opinion, and that you, Mr. Protagoras, are absolutely in error. Since this is my opinion, then you must grant that it is true according to your philosophy.

Protagoras: You are quite correct, Socrates.


Wednesday, 5 March 2008


bomb...Theres is none here, so its safe to go on reading my blog. I decided to write my entry from where my friend, ayma left. Two days back was a day in our lives that most of us think we will always get away with. Everyone is so sure that they would never ever come near to being a victim or witness a bomb blast. Well i was perhaps one of those idiots who always saw other people suffering and dying but never thought that one day they might be one of them. Today we have left many yesterdays behind but that one day will never be just another yesterday.
First blast, amna (another friend) and i freaked out. I sensed a flock of birds suddenly fly as the sound of it filled the fateful, apparently peaceful day. Still confused, uncertain of what has happened, we were bombarded with yet another horrifying sound. While rukh, hina and zd tried to calm us down, we panicked even more.
we were next.
but we survived.
Half trying to follow where the sound came from and half wanting to escape the inevitable situation we evacuated in the ground. the third sound hit us again, tying a final knot to our horror.
My fellow college mates all gathered in groups whispered their fears to each other. While others decided to call home, some just stood there flabbergasted. The reason i didnt entirely leave my body- my friends. and for that i thank them. Soon the air was fueled with all kinds of rumours while inwardly we prayed not for ourselves but for those who were the direct victims-the naval war college.
If i could i would i have hugged God. Its like everyday we break so many hearts, we call others names, we lose our faith and regain it again and every single day God gives us a chance. He doesnt want us to be angels because He already has a lot of them. So its alright if we make mistakes. He wants us to stay humans with a soul, a conscience, emotions both negative and positive. and conscience is what makes us humans. He has more faith in us than we have in Him and perhaps the reason why He accepted Satan's challenge to "gumrha" us. (divert from the righteous path). Why am i reflecting on all this? I really dont know...
we might never be able to know the real culprits, what they think, who they are or what they want but as one of my friend says theres something positive in everything that happens. i guess there was one after all.
so at the end of everyday when you go home, see your loved ones and the blood's running through your veins thank Him. Alhamdolilah. Hallelujah

Monday, 3 March 2008


The most distressing thing about writing blog is when no one, I mean NO ONE comments on it. They would come and read it but would never be kind enough to leave a few words from their profound insight. Sigh. One would call people, message them and even add the blog link on the personal message space on msn so that everyone would know about its existence. This is not desperation. No, no. Desperation is when there comes a time when you are so excited about your own blog, so obsessed with it that you log into the site umpteenth times a day; effortlessly re- entering the password again and again and yet again- so much so that it becomes nothing less than a ritual.

With time, as things start to get old and we steadily begin to lose interest in them, our heart in blog writing too starts to fade away (thanks to the ‘blog readers’). Then you start to ponder over the fact; if no one reads my blog and more importantly never leaves a note, why and how does the number of profile views increase just like the rate of inflation swells in our country. It doesn’t take long to realize the truth about it either.

Initially blogging makes you feel good about yourself. You begin to realize your worth; you finally have something in life to do apart from yawning. It’s like finding your destination and knowing exactly what you want and why you're here on this planet. Our life becomes so organized just because we set out a special time of the day to connect to the virtual world and off we dive hard into the depths of our pseudo intellectualism and furiously start hitting the keys. As words magically start to appear on the screen, your imagination takes a ride with the nine muses. It races, gallops, jumps, hops and does all the Brue Lee stunts. It comes flapping its wings heroically and unveils itself to the world waiting to read your thoughts. But wait, it’s soon that realization hits you hard like the head butt of Zidane. Ouuchhh.

People have so many of their own thoughts jumbled up in a complex, chaotic network of a 100 billion neurons. Already victimized by depression, hyper tension, melancholy and other miseries of life why would anyone want to know of your dilemmas when they have enough of their own?

To be continued…


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