I
have been athletic but never sports oriented in my life. In between, I had
faced my own sins of youth, arrogant decadence of all ills of youth- smoking, drinking, an incandescent conscience and an unyielding spine, aggravated
further by constant strife between my refusal of all social judgments and an insistence by the world
around me to judge me, nevertheless. It hit me, hit me hard. I went down with a feeling that I
will never come back again. I remember those bleak days, fourteen years back,
when every step taken would be precarious ringing with a hissing fear of death
in its sound. I was hit by affairs of the heart, and with that I am not
referring to my courtship which culminated with a marriage resulting in
excommunication by the society and family. It was odd feeling. It was unexpectedly expected. I was told that was to happen, but being an only son,
believed that warning from the parents to be hollow. Boy, solid it was, they
held social pride dearer than the only child and I…
I am a Worshiper of Words. I ponder, I think, I write, therefore, I exist. A Blog on Literature, Philosophy and Parenting