Hey, we gonna get a new president! Wow!! Really?
Indian democracy never really gave any powers to president who is just a brand name for the government rubber stamp. So, what's all this hue and cry about the fresh election?
Some theory states that all the global problems emerge from Italy. I kind of started believing in this. Remember the head butt?
Yeah....see?
Abdul Kalam, the man who uses rockets to travel even to the local bank, is a superhero who deserves an other term. The italians for some reason think its better off to send him back to research, or worse, academia!!
The only impressive fact is that some patil bai will be the first female rubber stamp we ever had! Three Cheers and No Vodka to that.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
It's raining!
The rains are back. And so am I!
Those of you who live in a dream called Mumbai, might not prefer the former. I am not sure of the latter.
There is not a real difference to the rains this time. They are as regularly irregular, seriously comic, painfully joyous, a change which is not!
Someone recently commented on my blog that my writings are getting closer by the day! Thanks for pointing that out to me. It's not that i didn't know it was happening. It's just that it felt a lot better when it came from a stranger.
People, i believe write for a myriad of reasons. Some write for themselves. Like Ayn Rand. They don't have a preferred audience. Some write for an audience. Like Salman Rushdie. Craving for attention. I lie somewhere in between. No, not between the authors. But, between the styles.
And, normal people don't write forever. There comes a time when all that you want to say is said. Then comes the golden silence. A pause which speaks more powerfully than the most eloquent speaker. That's when the writer has arrived. Am not even hinting at the prospect that i might have reached there. Well, i haven't even begun.
I do want to write. Each additional moment am spending on this planet convinces me that writing is all that is there to living. Attaining nirvana is not for me. All i want to do is to communicate. Talk, speak, write and listen. That's all i want to do. Get a life, did i hear?
:)
Well, am at the least, trying!
Those of you who live in a dream called Mumbai, might not prefer the former. I am not sure of the latter.
There is not a real difference to the rains this time. They are as regularly irregular, seriously comic, painfully joyous, a change which is not!
Someone recently commented on my blog that my writings are getting closer by the day! Thanks for pointing that out to me. It's not that i didn't know it was happening. It's just that it felt a lot better when it came from a stranger.
People, i believe write for a myriad of reasons. Some write for themselves. Like Ayn Rand. They don't have a preferred audience. Some write for an audience. Like Salman Rushdie. Craving for attention. I lie somewhere in between. No, not between the authors. But, between the styles.
And, normal people don't write forever. There comes a time when all that you want to say is said. Then comes the golden silence. A pause which speaks more powerfully than the most eloquent speaker. That's when the writer has arrived. Am not even hinting at the prospect that i might have reached there. Well, i haven't even begun.
I do want to write. Each additional moment am spending on this planet convinces me that writing is all that is there to living. Attaining nirvana is not for me. All i want to do is to communicate. Talk, speak, write and listen. That's all i want to do. Get a life, did i hear?
:)
Well, am at the least, trying!
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