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To talk, or not to talk. That’s not even a question. Recently a WhatsApp forward from a school friend group triggered this question in me. Among many well-meaning advice for senior citizens, was one addendum – silence. Now, that had me thinking. For not long back I had read that talking actually helps. It quoted
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“Why can’t you just ask for directions,” my wife queried with some exasperation as we were driving to reach a friend’s place. Frankly, Not the first time she had asked the question. “How come,” she continued, ” even in these days of Google maps, you have to rely on your sense of direction,” she added,
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जो होता है, जब होता है, सो होता हैपर जब वह हो रहा होता है,तब कहां ही पता चलता कि क्या होता है?और, क्या वही होता हैजिसे होना होता है?और, होते होते जो नहीं होता क्या वही हुआ होता हैजिसको होना होता है?जो हुआ होता हैक्या वही होने को था?असमंजस, कशमकश, उँहापोहमें भला क्या ही
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“I forgot”. Nothing elicits a varied reaction than these two words. Right from anger to pity, to exasperation, to commiseration, to annoyance, to giving up, the reactions run the whole gamut of emotions. Highly successful persons and many accomplished life coaches could lecture you on the ill effects of forgetfulness and how to beat the
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Procrastinators of the world unite, you have nothing to lose but your reputation. This clarion call to my fellow procrastinators has been in the pipeline for long, understandably so. The call, not so much as to give up an admirable yet misunderstood trait, but to set the record straight. A procrastinator is not lazy. The
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So there it comes. Yet another International Yoga Day. And as usual many posts and pictures will soon be flooding the social media. Facebook, dutifully as it is wont to do, just reminded me this morning of an old savasana post and added that I upload a recent one for its then and now feature.
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(This was my first middle which was published in The Indian Express way back in 1991/92. Was rummaging through some old memories when I chanced upon the cutting.) Even though some would prefer to use such dismissive terms as adolescent infatuation and calf love I still call itlove. And it is not at all difficult
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This is not a Hitchcockian murder mystery. Although it does involve a bathroom and a washbasin, there isn’t any blood dripping suddenly and all that macabre cinematic effects. But, does the destruction of ego fall in the category of murder.? Maybe. Anyway, to continue, all the action happened thanks to an offending faucet fixed in
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My cat sat staring at me. A deep, deep stare. It perturbed me, stirring the philosophical train of thought. And I starred back and telepathically connected to it, I had a barrage of questions. Questions that evaded answers, questions of life, purpose, moksha et all. But before I let you in on my transcendental thoughts,
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Random Ramblings of a Reluctant Blogger 