I am a salesman. I have different names. I am called sales leader, seller, executive, Account specialist. Sometimes when the organization I work for is happy with the business I get and the people who adorn the chairs and decide the chessboard of ruthless corporate games get excited, they call me fancy names like strategist or corporate warrior. I go to people talk to them about things the organization where I work, makes and prod them to buy them. I do not sell harmful things. I sell things people need but do not have because they do not know sometimes that they need them. I wear suites and ties in sweltering heat and walk through the dust, cursing the eccentricities of the weather of my city. My face is full of grimace at every parking where I try to locate a place to park my vehicle. I try to hold on to my laptop when I am thrust from one end to another in public transport. I walk thinking about my little daughter lying in temperature unattended at home. But I reach my cli
I am a Worshiper of Words. I ponder, I think, I write, therefore, I exist. A Blog on Literature, Philosophy and Parenting