Nine to Five

Are you/ were you at some point an avid reader?  Then you must have  quipped "the book was better" more than once. As a dancer, I learnt early on how one expresses with every tiny gesture. With a pen in my hand, thick sheets of paper underneath, being able to put words to my expressions makes me feel alive. Maybe my eyes do tell a story, but its often the ink that intricately elaborates it. Words, thus, are an insight into an author's life. Written pieces, even the smallest sentence, of pure fictional origin, somehow draws its first breath from its writer.  The pen is fuelled with ink dipped in experiences that left the writer's soul parched or inspired.  If you are nodding your head, or agreeing to this someway, then the rest of the blog would be much relatable. If you have any questions, you may turn back or continue to read with skepticism surrounding every word henceforth.  If writing, the act of creating narratives from an expression or idea, ...

If you had the option, what superpower would you ask for? For a day, for yourself? And no! Doing the world a favour or getting rid of evil, doesn't count. Think of something selfish, something just for yourself. Thinking??? Until then, i'll tell you my story... Just like everybody else, I work. To pay my bills, to buy unnecessary items i desire, to build a room full of things. And thus every day I go about doing my daily chores, my mundane routine of home to office and office to home. I live the life as me, the sensible one. The physical I in this physical world of money, science, politics, religion and all that makes up a society.  Now don't get me wrong. I'm not going to harp on about how one should love what they do or do what they love. That we shall leave for so many others to decide for you and me. And personally, I love buying all the unnecessary clutter in my life. The clothes, candles, flowers, watches, umbrellas and the never ending...

Have you heard of date on skype?  Well I have one, ever so often with my family. Recently, I 'Skype-d' with my grandmother and she just couldn't get over the image of me sitting in front of her. Well, almost in front of her. Amazed, she asked my mother if my video was a pre-recorded message. Her amazement multiplied when I started a conversation with her. 'Just like on a phone but with video', she exclaimed! My nephew on the other hand, sitting in her lap seemed very comfortable with my digital presence. He started an online game with me as if this was as good as us prancing around the house with his action figures and bat-mobiles. I could start telling this story with the usual 'once upon time', for it feels like fairy tale. A tale we've lived and forgotten so easily. I should begin at the beginning. When I was still a child. My cousins and I used to write to each other, especially during the vacations. I remember waiting weeks for the lette...

Ok so this isn't a story, just thoughts stitched together... Thoughts that come while i walk to my morning train everyday. They needed to see light and this blog is after all about thoughts that "pop"... So... I love talking and people who know me would agree that I love it. I enjoy telling stories and when i cannot write everything down, I let my mouth take over my writing abilities and typing skills.  But what i enjoy most is "pondering". Not necessarily being pensive... but just questioning things around us. Like who decided the name of the days. I mean what does "Monday" even mean? (by the way 'Monday' is derived from "Moon Day" of the Old English) Or "February"? I cant even say "February" without tripping on my tongue. Why do we even have names for days or months... why not just a number. Well i'm sure someone will trace history and get me the answers, but its not the answers i look for.  What I...

Saturday morning, 10:30 a.m. I walked down the library aisles, looking for food for thought. From a corner shelf, the word "Foundation" caught my eyes.  I couldn't believe it. It was the same edition, the same cover in shades of orange and red. The author who had catapulted me into science fiction. Isaac Asimov... As i opened the book, i crumbled to the floor and was soon lost...  We, humans, are essentially emotional beings.  We rely on our emotions to guide us through the various experiences we go through.  We are hoarders of memories and love to keep piling on the stock every now and then .  More often than not, we run back to this rather large, infinite castle and feel "nostalgic".  If you were to close your eyes now and rush back to one such event, what do you think the walls will be made of? Well apologies for the building association, it seems to be an educational hazard (architecture has ruined me for all other professions...) Wha...