Reflections of a restless eccentric

"It's time" he said looking solemnly at me. I sorrowfully contemplate the drastic change if I were to agree. "Not yet. Give me a couple of years. I promise to be ready by then". Two years later : I need more time. Four years later : One more year,I swear. I will move on. Five years later : Actually, I think I'll never be ready. This is going to last me an entire lifetime and I'll still be wishing for more time. I write this as I return from yet another trip to the bookstore. I'm talking about making the transition from fiction to non-fiction. Yeah, you heard that right :P I'm hopelessly in love with fiction. I've been reading for more than one and a half decades now and there's no sign of diminishing interest or boredom. No proverbial thirst for something more meaningful. I must easily have 500 books at home. Must have read over a thousand. So many that I no longer remember the titles. I end up buying a previously read book a

I've been craving to write since midnight.Having slept for barely an hour last night,my thoughts are still hazy and clarity is an entire city away.I might have to re-read this and edit once my brain comes back to normal.On second thoughts,I think I'd better keep this short--rewriting is a pain and it'll end up ruining the flow anyway.Drabble it's going to be:P Expect bleary-eyed philosophy and abstract thought that's circular. Life is akin to an ocean.There are times when the waves lap peacefully at your feet.Then,there are times when the raging furore of foam and froth all but overwhelms you.The waves mercilessly lash out at you as if their only goal is to rob you of your footing.You feel like you'll drown any moment.In that moment,what do you hold on to?What do you clutch at? Faith.Belief.What's called athma vishwasa. This is more important than anything else in life.Finding the strength within. Knowing that no matter what,you'll be fine.There hav

To offset all the philosophy and abstract thought in my previous articles,here's some funny stuff. Lately,I've been more of a klutz than usual.I've bumped into a million things,stubbed all my toes and even cut myself a couple of times.I have no idea why life decided to increase my clumsiness level.As if I wasn't bestowed with enough already:P I headed to breakfast this morning with no inkling of what awaited me.With a plate of food in one hand and a mug of steaming hot coffee in the other,I headed towards the table where my friends were seated.It had rained the previous night and I was mindful of the treacherously slippery floor --I slowed down my usual long legged strides to a haltingly cautious tread. I reached the table and heaved a sigh of relief--I made it without falling down.I said hi to my friends and took the final step to the table.One more step and I would have been comfortably seated. Ah,blame overconfidence:P I slipped.Before I knew what happened,I

As infants,we are completely dependent on our parents.We hold their hands and take our first baby steps.We cry out to them whenever we are in distress.Gradually,those steps gain confidence.We start doing things on our own.We don't ask for as much support as we used to.Finally,there comes a point when we reach independence.We no longer need our parents to go about our lives.Our wings are sturdy enough to take flight.And so,our parents,who were once indispensable to us, get relegated to the fringes of our life.This is a completely normal cycle that's part of life. Have you ever contemplated the reverse--that our parents learn immensely from us? I think this poem evoked the idea in me: Child is the father of man ,said Wordsworth.Ambiguity is inherent in every poem.The most common interpretation of this line is that habits formed in youth decide who you are and hence,the child is the creator of the adult.To me,it meant something completely different.I thought along the lines of