Love, Life and Happiness

There are certain accidental discoveries which constitute the beauty of life. Sometime, wandering aimlessly you land in a place you never wanted to be and encounter the most wonderful person with whom you either eventually spend your entire life or well, maybe accidentally you loose that person and end up cherishing the brief encounter for the whole of life. Well, this piece is not about that incomprehensible life force called love, at least not in that sense of word. It sure does refers to love in some form, but that that is what the title of the blog promises any which way. The accidental discovery which I am referring to is not about some exquisite individual, but rather about a book by an author whose name I had not known till the time I picked the book "Notes to Myself" from the lanes across the railway station in Indore during my masters. It was like a kid who goes out playing with marbles only to find a priceless rubies among the marbles he collects from near the sea

My daughter, while cutting up from the chair in the evening took a nasty scratch on her finger. Then she cried, then slept and then woke up as if nothing had happened. But I could still feel the pinch, there is something sad inside for not being able to prevent that. That was a small scratch, and that is not going to be the last one, but then should I be jubiliant in the fact that she has gotten over it, should I tell her that as she goes out to school and work later, she will be facing such agonies every day. It was just a small scar, and it did cut me so deep, there were children around Sarojini Nagar market when the blast happen couple of years back and there on Mumbai station, where when Pak trained terrorists arrived, to the utter dismay of Raj Thackaray only a "Bhaiyya" of RPF stood the ground with his embarassed '303 in the face of sophesticated AK-47 and other weapons carried by Ajmal Kasab and his company, who initially claimed to have reached Mumbai to find a r

When I leave home and you are mostly sleeping in you lovely pajamas with teddy bear or bunny prints, totally oblivious to the world around and totally innocent to fear and worries that the life ahead invariably presents and I kiss you on the forehead, which is responded by a sweet pout on the sweet lips, which turns into a smile on the corners before fading away, Do you in your dreams feel a connection to a father who grows old as his daughter grows young And as Wise Euripides said Nothing pleases a father growing old than the daughter, Do you in you dreams of Pink bears and green elephants realize what Euripides meant and what you mean to me?

Last week was a rare occasion when the Prime Minister of the world's most populous democracy decided to speak to his people, fourth time in seven years since he took to power. The fact that he has spoken to the people so few a time is in itself a saddening fact, leaving apart the manner in which he spoke to the people, In Camera, and to a select chosen few. It smelled clearly of more of a PR exercise than of a genuine desire of establishing communication with estranged nation bewildered at every day disclosures of newer scams of humongous proportions, supplemented by sheer show of arrogance, with an air of almost near total impunity. The pattern was very clear, scams were all very large in size, will carry on in spite of public uproar for a long spell of time, long enough to loot and hide the wrongly acquired wealth, with spokesperson of ruling fraternity coming on television camera to deny any wrong doing, till the time an unyielding court decide to intervene and then, under pres