The Battle

And inevitably, it dawned upon me that my enemy was close. I could feel it, breathing down my neck, absolute and inevitable.
I look up and there it is, the monstrosity, staring me in the face. And in a fit of rage I pounce, only to get a response matching, and perhaps surpassing my own vigour.
We wrestle, like mad, rabid dogs, like we were battling for the first time, and the truth could not be farther. We fought, and fought and and we fought some more, until it was all over.
I got up, dusted myself and walked away, ready and perhaps a little bit wiser for the next time. Monday had been dealt with.

Pens

I bought a pen today, from a face so sad,
It made me look at my life, and see the things that I've had.

You could see the pain of sorrow,for her eyes were misty and red,
You would not like to buy anything, but give her a hug instead.

So I bought the pen from her, and so happy she was, oh boy!
And I paid for it, not with money you see, I paid for it, with joy.

The Linear Approach

Point (A) Blog starts here. Or does it? Let me give you an example:

I draw a line segment and name it AB.Now most of us immediately imagine "A" as the point were the line segment starts and "B" a the point where it ends. That pretty much sums it up.

Our perspectives are vaguely limited. Like , very few people will question the whether A and B are singular points on a plane containing a line segment or are they merely two points on an endless line/ Or is this the only line? Or are we talking about a magnified circle.

Before you (rightly) take me to be crazy, I would like to explain. What I meant was: Human beings have a tremendous quality and capacity to question things. The fact that we can question our existence signifies our evolved psyche. Questioning things has brought us where we are, not only in terms of  exploration or science, but also as a society (read all freedom movements.).
But how much of this capability do you really use? We don't triumphantly high five each other after we walk five paces, do we? Why not? Because we are capable of it. It's no big deal. So why is questioning our existence, or finding a deeper meaning so revered?
The fact that we can do it and so many of us do do it suggests that something like this comes naturally to us. The bigger question is : Are we knocking on the right doors?
Most of our theories regarding things that we don't quite understand are, well, brilliant. The genesis of universe, our concept of time are amazingly sensible and detailed. But that's what they are: concepts. What amuses me is our notion of "start and end".Everything we encounter must start and end. We are so obsessed with the idea of genesis and demise of objects that we tend to see things through that very scope. Things that may not essentially follow this rule. Things that perpetually go on, which do not start or end. What we do know is that this universe is a living, breathing entity. It's a dynamic explosion of chain reactions and a mind boggling cocktail of cause and effects. It's just that we are not looking at it correctly.

All I'm trying to say here is that time, the universe and other stuff (well, I don't know everything) could just not be a simple line segment. It could be layers of sheets, universes co-existing and continuing in amazing harmony, with time ebbing and flowing around this beautiful arrangement. For start and end are terms that are merely human. For all we know, our existence is one big, dynamic perpetuality. Confusing? Let me clear this up with an example, go to Point (A)

Experiences

The first kiss, the first walk in the rain. How much do you really remember of it?
They do define you? For a while, yes. But after a while, the mark a certain life event has left on you, goes.

So the thing is...Wait, why not make this blog an experience too! So what I was saying is,

A life, that's metamorphosed into this cluster of memories that forms a definitive being that is you.

All in God's Work

God: So, how's it going?

Apprentice: Same old same old. Strife, war, peace at places. Nothing out of the ordinary.

God: Hmm, something I expected, but really hoped it wouldn't come to.

Apprentice: Really, you actually don't know the course this world will take?

God: No. I can only observe. I never even knew that human beings would come into existence, let alone their fate. So what I set into motion was a domino effect, a chain of events if you will, culminating into the state of Earth as it is today.

Apprentice: So, you don't have a bearing on what happens everyday?

God: No. But in a way, I'm the biggest causal effect that the universe ever had. So, a major reason of what is happening today is me. But that is because I triggered the genesis of it all.

Apprentice: So are human beings fools to be praying to you, preaching your name?

God: The design of the universe facilitated the emergence of a dominant organism. I never thought it'd be those monkeys, but look where they stand now.Yet, the more profound realities of this universe remain quite unknown to them.They are only at a nascent stage of self-realization.It will take time for them to truly understand what my and their existence means.So if they do not self-destruct, they are in the right path to do so.
So, they shall struggle to know what I truly am, they mistake me for their caretaker and ultimate savior, but time will come when they realize that I'm just a creator, a being, who didn't even expect their existence a few billion years ago. But ultimately, they should get there, ultimately they shall realize that I'm as perplexed, as normal and as 'humane' as they are. Only stronger.

Apprentice: Hmm, food for thought...

God: Enough for today, let's get t work. This universe won't make itself. 

The Nature of Our Being

"And ladies and gentlemen, it is done. The Final Front have defeated The Reign! The word monarch has fallen.", veteran central T.V. anchor Rajon Gulliver announced.

"This is the end of an era. The class society has been defeated, the slaves rejoice at the Center Arch as we speak. This is landmark news, isn't it Edna?"

Edna, the co-anchor, reciprocated the beaming, glee-filled radiance that his fellow anchor was portraying,
"It definitely is Rajon. It is the day people were waiting for. Liberation from the hierarchical society we are living in. And a hope for a classless world, the far fetched dream of an Utopia that finally seems possible..."

"I'm sorry Edna, I'll have to cut you there, we have the Commander Latheos, live from the Center Arch. Commander, it is over, 20 years of bloody war, and now it is all over."

"Yes, happiest days of our lives! Now we can go forward with Project Regen. A perfect world is
waiting for us!"

"Yes Commander, indeed it is. Say, Commander, just for our young viewers and for the uninitiated,
I doubt there are any, please repeat our grand plans for the ultimate renaissance."

"It will an honour. In search of a classless society and a world where everyone is an equal, we take some drastic but necessary steps. First, we give up all technology, in order to come clean with nature and pay
her our tribute, for we have wronged her. Next, and more importantly, we all take the Red Pill, that will be provided to each person by Final Front representatives. This pill will take us into a deep sleep and we wake up with no memory of this wretched present.We wake as free men, equal men. And then it is done."
"The clocks shall be reset and man shall be reborn.This will be the corner stone of our Utopia,  and we shall call it Earth."

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Deception in Plain Sight

I love to observe people. Stalkeresque as it may sound, it's actually a very interesting exercise. I pride myself on getting the personalities right most of the time.

Appearances however, can be deceptively misleading. This wonderful story depicts how:

"Hey! I know this tea stall that has the best tea you'll ever have! Let's go there today."

"Tea stall? Dude, these are the days of CCDs and Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. Brews there are of another level. Besides, those places are unhygienic."

"Come on! Let me tell you, it is the best tea in this whole wild world.The aroma, the taste. It is pure magic. "

"Okay, if you say so."

Both head towards the best tea in town. The tea stall, was a rickety little place. The owner and master tea maker was a very old man, probably in his seventies. with a grumpy look about his face.
The bare essentials were present- a jar full of tea, a jar full of sugar, a little station with gas and a saucepan. It just made the cut.

"Baba, two chai please. The very best of your special type!"

"Bro, this place is in bits and pieces. All tattered and dusty. And the old guy with the hideous look? How do you ever drink tea here?"

"Dude! He can hear you! Have some manners."

"All right all right..."

The tea making process was nothing special, although, one thing stood out of the ordinary. The old tea maker kept adding spoons of sugar into the brew. Quite a lot of spoons.

"That's it! I'm out of here. You could've told me that you liked your tea insanely sweet. That kind of calories is enough to kill a bear!" And he stormed off.

"I'm sorry Baba. He is always like that. But just out of curiosity and I have noticed this too, why do you add so many spoons of sugar?"

The old man did nothing but raise the spoon, and it was all clear.
It had  a big hole in the center.

Ways of Life

*June 15th, 1982*
"Tumko Dekha toh yeh khayal aaya.
The new Jagjit Singh gem set the mood at the Chai shop, when I saw her again.
My word! Isn't she just breathtaking?
She stood at the Bus Depot, flawless, serene, simple. I gawked at her until Mahesh Bhai reminded me that my Irani tea was going cold. But what else could I do? She was beyond any other girl. Mahesh Bhai deduces that either I have Alzheimer's or I'm in love. I too think that the Alzheimer's thing is true, love sounds too crazy.I should talk to her, maybe."

*Dec 28th, 2014*
"Manisha looks in truly positive spirits as she chases down a big butterfly. She is a little princess, with her soft golden locks freely flowing. Her mother would approve, she loved her curls as well.It's a fine day at the park.
I see her in our daughter.
I sit back and listen to some music. Jagjit Singh. And it takes me back...
How I truly miss her, and how I break down at times. But I would never part with those wonderful 20 years we had. Right from the days of the bus depot till the marriage. Those are the days that keep me going. Even after she was diagnosed with leukemia, we had so much love. Some sweet talks, those late night book readings, and love that grew stronger each day.
Yes,love it was. Mahesh Bhai was wrong after all.

Zindagi dhoop, tum ghanaa Sayaa. "

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

A Writer's Weapons

Yesterday, I came across this very intriguing Japanese folk story.
It was about this person. His neighbours and people across the street were always afraid of him, because of a very peculiar thing that happened every day. As a perplexed neighbour describes, "Every night after the Shyuske returns from the fields, a terrific, blood curdling scream bellows out of his house. Every night at exactly 12. Whenever we ask him about it, he just stares at us in utter silence and with dead cold eyes. We have stopped asking now." . Weird Indeed.
Shyuske's cousin Kintaro visits him one time, and on his first day, he comes across this story from the village people (village people. Really?). That night, after dinner, Kintaro anxiously waited for the clock to strike 12, to understand what really happens to his brother. Precisely at 12, Kintaro saw something very weird. All of a sudden, his brother started making these weird, loud noises standing by the window and after a while he stopped and went to  bed.
The next morning, curious Kintaro asked his brother about the events of the previous night, to which Shyuske smiled and replied, "The last owner of this house told me how this was a bad neighborhood. Most of these people living here are into bad things. They harassed the poor guy a lot. But I have to live here because this is closest place to the fields. So I came up with this plan. They will not fear police, but no one dares to mess with the supernatural."

What a great story. Opinions will vary from school to school but what struck my fancy was Shyuske's intent. He was absolutely clear about what he wanted to do and left no stone unturned to find a way and implement it to the tee. For me, this is very essential to writing. A writer with clear intent writes the cleanest stories. Intent gives purpose and direction to writing. It helps the reader to latch on to your train of thoughts and see things from your perspective.The next story is also very interesting and has actually happened.

There was once a man who chewed paan (beetle leaves) everyday. He would always have a paan in his mouth.And there was one more thing that he'd do.
Everyday, while on his way to work,the man would spit out the remaining paan on a giant stone. He kept doing this for years and gradually the stone turned red from all the paan spit.
One fine day, our protagonist was on his way to work when he saw a huge crowd in front of the stone. To his utter surprise, people were actually worshiping the stone! They thought it was a blessing from some deity. Men were donating wads of money, women had brought their children along to seek blessings of the lord.
The man was bemused. He did not have the heart to reveal the truth.

What this story shows us is, packing is important.It's just not a great concept, but the way you write it, that makes for a good read. What would 'The Fog Horn' be, but only a great idea, if it wasn't for Ray Bradbury's piercing documentary. 'The Raven' would be a drab poem, without Edgar Allan Poe's grim and dark portrayal of themes. The relic that people were worshiping was just a stone, but the red colour made it a reincarnation of god himself. That's how strong proper packaging can be.

So there you go. Intent in writing, and proper portrayal of your intent. Those are two of the greatest of writers' weapons. Armed with these, you can create magic in the greatest theater there is- the human brain.

Oh, and the first story, I just made that up. Wanted to make my intent clear.

Odd Job

I still have nightmares. Some days, I'm stifled with such nauseating feeling, that I almost throw up and I barely eat. I need to get this off my chest so here it goes:

I was 14, young, and had newly discovered that money buys trading cards and other cool stuff.
That summer, me and my pals were gunning for bikes. So all of us were running around the neighborhood, searching for odd jobs. You know, lawns that needed mowing, cars that needed washing, that kind of stuff.
That's when I stumbled upon this poster, about a house on 8th, that needed painting.
"50 bucks for a paint job", it said. I immediately picked up my bike, and stormed down to the place before any of my friends could.
I reached the address to find a little house, weed growing all around. I distinctly remember the house, those curd covered screens, pale yellow window panes, and that weird smell. That hint of a stench that doesn't chase you away, but in retrospect always warned you about a terrifying little secret that lay hidden in it's confines.
I met Mr.Stevens, the owner. Well met will be a strong word. He appeared out of nowhere and scared the shit out of me...
Next few days were routine, Mr.Stevens with is hammer and nail, and me with a bucket of red paint and that huge brush he gave me. The only odd thing about the job was that brilliantly red paint and how Mr.Stevens would never let me leave his sight.Anyways, he was an old man, and the pay was good, so I did not complain. We would talk about baseball and how it took ages to paint a wall. He had his quirks but the old man was just fine.
We got along, I got over the smell, and we did the entire place in a week. And that was the last I saw of him.

Everything was done and dusted and I got on with my life, until that day.
That fine Monday, around 2 weeks after the summer holidays were over, me and the gang noticed a big crowd outside Mr.Steven's house. And there was police. We were too scared to enquire ourselves, and got the hell out of there.
Later I found out, that they had arrested Mr.Stevens for multiple homicide.Police found almost 30 people, all in his basement.
Oh, I almost forgot, on the last day of my job at Mr.Steven's, in my haste, I brought back the paint brush to my place. I had been meaning to return it, but never had the chance. Its still there in our garage. I never could return it, and I never had the courage to see it again.

Why so?

You see, the police report also said that Mr. Stevens killed all those people for a reason.

 He drew their blood, and used it to paint his house.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

A Thousand Words

20th June 2020: It had been 8 years. M was perusing through the photo album, when she came across that photo again. It was a nothing sort of a picture really, except for the earrings.Memories engulfed M as she spiraled into her own thoughts ...

Ryan had always been a bright kid. Good at studies, pretty decent in debates, he was a kid on the right track. His parents loved him and so did his friends.
It wasn't until he was 19 that his parents found out that he was gay, and to them it was nothing. To them the term meant nothing, for doesn't love differentiate. For love is not a disease.
But society is a funny thing. Contrary to popular belief, it is the society that chooses the man and not the opposite. And the man rejected by society is a man without an identity, a man who is not given the right to lead a peaceful life.
A man rejected by the society has no where to go.

20th June 2012: It was M's birthday and F had decided to for go for glory. Ryan was in on it as well, although he seemed a little gloomy. It had been a full year since all the teasing and name-calling had started, but today was his mother's big day, and he was determined to make it special.
The night went very well, and Dad had been declared a success. After the party, Ryan came up to Mom and gifted her a pair of brilliant blue earrings.

"I want you to have it.", he said with a smile.

M's eyes filled with tears.She had always pestered F about those earrings. It was then that in the spur of the moment, Ryan placed the earrings near the half eaten cake and snapped a quick photo. And that was that.

Who knew that this sweet memory would become a remembrance of a time so ghastly.

It was 7 days after M's birthday that they found Ryan hanging from the drawing room ceiling.He gave in.
The society had done its job, getting rid of the incoherent. Getting rid of a bright child , a good son and a soulful human being.

There are so many Ryans out there, so many waiting to be saved. So many, who have a story to say. So many, who just couldn't.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Ninth of November

F: "Hi, Ryan.. You there?"

R: "Yeah. Please stop calling, I'm in class and moreover I don't want to talk to you."

F:"Listen Son..."

R:"You'd lost your chance to talk when you left us...So please stop."

F: "I know, but hear me out...take care of Mom."

R:"What??"

F:"Take care of Mom and do good in College. Never worry about the money.I have taken care of it."

R: "What are you saying?? You're making me nervous."

F:"Listen...turn on CNN."

R: "Wait.... okay it's on now.What on earth is happening!"

F:"I'm in one of those planes."

R: "Dad... stop kidding. This isn't funny."

F:"I've gotta go. They're taking away our phones. We don't have much time anyway... Listen, be calm and do good in life. And be a better person than your Dad. :) . Okay?"

R: "But Dad.. "

5 minutes later...

R: "k..."

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

The Friend Upstairs

I walk these white halls, following this man, who somehow understands my language.

 My short life has been filled with questions, the most intriguing of them walking right in front of me.

 A man who not just understood my urge for hunger or play, but who also could talk to me.

I do not understand, a moment ago, I was a stones throw away from a speeding vehicle, and now I'm in these serene surroundings, and with this equally quaint man.

 Confused, I asked,"Who are you?", to which the tall,thin man with long hair and similarly long beard smiled and said, "Just a friend."

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

De-Spirit of Mumbai?

Bombay was bombed in 1993. I was three then. That set up the tone in which I would hear of the place for years to come. People talk of the so called Maximum City with a measured excitement and a palpable sense of fear.

Being a person on the otherside of the glass, I've always viewed Mumbai as a place of extreme possibilities and adventures, with constant fear for life thrown-in in good measure.

I've always wanted to go there, still do.

And nothing will change that.

Over the years, I have seen many a blasts, attacks on the city, and everytime, the politicos express their grief for families of the affected, and hail the Mumbai Spirit.

Mumbai Spirit....

I see the faces of people, children- crying, parents-shattered.

Is that what you call spirit?

I see people dragging themselves to work, affording a loose smile when they see the camera. It seems they come out in the open not because they want to, but because they have to.

I see people who seem to have realised that only they can help themselves and their families. I see people who have lost faith on people at helm.

Is this the spirit of Mumbai?

I dont think so. Perhaps it is the spirit of humanity slowly draining away from the hearts and faces of the people of the Maximum City....

Citizen Bane

These are times when everything happening in India is happening in Indian politics. A new wave of awakening has swept across the nation and the general public has decided to stand up against the slack and red tape that over the years have become the hallmark of Indian politics.

Come to think of it, the public outcry is to an extent justified. The government at every instance of the short history of free India, has tried to cut corners, muddled in vote-bank politics, and duly indulged itself in corrupt practices. So the angst had to spill over at some time or the other. Its UPA's plain bad luck, that it has happened in their tenure.

The pubic outcry brings us to the protagonists, Anna Hazare- the ever-smiling, gentle, Nehru -topi clad leader, whose only weapon is non-violence; and Baba Ramdev- the jet-setting Baba, who showed his cards too early and went down as quickly as he had risen up, and that to at midnight.

While Baba Ramdev showed evident lack in leadership qualities, and a past that is riddled with questionable events, he was an easy prey for the government to shoot down.

But Anna Hazare is different, his life is as simple and as devoted to his motherland as his illustrious idol- M.K. Gandhi. As much as the UPA has tried to pin down Anna, he and his civil society brigade have risen from the ashes every single time. And the growing popularity and the authority he commands amongst the masses, make it even more difficult for the current government to resist change.

For its part, the goverment, unfortunately is trying its best to be the bad guy.

Beating up women and children in the middle of the night- this kind of stuff is hand to describe in the context of democracy. CDs claiming civil society members of the lokpal bill to be corrupt and so on...- UPA's reactions appear to be of the knee-jerk kind. They fail to realize that its not a political party they are up against. It is the face of the aam aadmi, that has finally decided to stand up and be counted.

Now its like people look at every movement , listen to every word uttered by a politician with ample amount of suspicion and infinite amount of disgust.

Its seems that people are now determined to remind this government what democracy actually is-of the people, by the people, for the people.

Like I said, exciting times in Indian politics. What do you think?

Bridging The Deficit

India and Pakistan are bad neighbours is mild way of putting the tension between the countries since their birth. And the relationship has never looked to be heading for the good.

Well, people concerned do use the right words to describe it- "trust deficit", but what they do to bridge this deficit doesn't speak much for their vocabulary. Throwing dossiers and accusing each other for attacks in respective countries doesn't exactly bridge a trust-deficit.

Day in and day out, you see news channels on both sides of the border spitting venom on the other side, accusing each other of things that could be.

Infact, today I saw this news channel, running a program about strengthening ties through cricket. The visuals showed either Pak bowlers getting a thorough bashing from Indian bastmen or Pakistan batsmen loosing their wickets.

Art and sports can only take us this far.Lazing around one fine evening and talking about the similarities in both countries will never help bring a change .The people at the helm have to understand that all they have to do is believe. Someone has to bend. It is painful to see a region that could be an economic and cultural powerhouse, torn apart due to vested interests.

Even if some people do agree to the above, they expect thier counterpart to bend first.

Both parties are at fault and nobody's helping the cause, neither the government nor the people.

Lets not walk into the hole the bad dudes want us to fall into. Let us listen to each other for a change. Lets believe in each other for once.

Brain Games

Sub-conscious brain is perhaps the most powerful tool that man has been gifted with. The problem is that its like a double-edged sword. And most of us do not know how powerful it is and upon mastering its control, how much more fulfilling one's life can be.

For better understanding, let us take the example of 'Bhool Bhulaiya' and 'Karthik calling Karthik' . For the uninitiated, these are B' wood films deal with the adverse effect of sub-conscious brain, or mental disorder, in short. However, what both the films portray, is how strong a person's inner will can be. It can create a completely new person out a man/woman and it can adversely affect our conscious self.

Although both the films show sub-conscious brain in a bad light, what is undeniable is the fact that sub-conscious brain has surprising, almost super-human powers.

Controlling our sub-conscious brain is the ultimate self-realization of a human being. And the only way this can be achieved, is by developing a strong-willed conscious brain. When we truly and consciously believe in our abilities and wishes, a connection between both the mind-sets is snapped closed. And then our sub-conscious brain unleashes its effectiveness.

But the belief has to be unabashed, true and pure.

Take for example walking- You never fall on solid ground because you are supremely and truly confident about your walking-credentials (I know, I'm overrating the art of walking.). But the second you are blind-folded, you stumble. That's not because of the blindfold, it's because your conscious mind red flags the thought of falling and the sub-conscious mind doesn't waste time in realizing it.

So, try to believe in your goals and aspirations. Act as if they have been achieved. If you want to be happy, BE HAPPY. Or at least act as if you are. The results will surprise you.

Addicted to Blame

Lets not mince words here, cause this thing really pisses me off.

How many of you think that Twitter is an addiction?

I mean, gimme a break! When was the last time you (or anyone, for that matter) thought that sharing doodles with your friends was an addiction?

To those few who are giving a thought to the above question(if you are, c'mon get a life... or a Twitter account.) Socializing may have been harmful in caveman days when people used club each others' heads in the name of inter-personal communication.

Mainstream media here in India is hell-bent on proving Twitter an addiction. The only (and perhaps the decisive) arguement against this conclusion is that socializing is a human need, it completes a person. It defines the human race and binds us togather. Existence is impossible without interaction. Even war and crisis need socialization.

And about the addiction thing, lets see an example-

"Oh my dad's dead, (laconic smile) Why not tweet this....."

To those few who do not think this scenario as naive and funny and think that there is a serious possibility that such a thing could happen, you might as well stop reading this post now.

And you know what's really crappy about all this? To hear all that s**t about twitter-addiction and in the end- "What did you think about todays show? Tweet us at @hitmeIamanas**le"

The Fact About Fiction

The world has seen a lot of talented fiction writers. Their ideas were new, appealing and gave a new meaning to their (and others') lives. But what was that one thing that made them so special?

There are hundreds of 'writers' guide' that keep incessantly gloating about doing things 'differently'. In fact, if something is stale, it is these rhetoric. But then, (I hate to sound repetitive) what was the thing that clicked for these brilliant minds?

We are born and brought up by our parents, and by the time we are capable of brewing intelligent thoughts, we develop what I like to call a 'cast'. The ideas that come into our mind must fit into this cast, lest it displease a section of our society. It is like writing for others, we are more interested to make our ideas and writings sound sensible rather then making them sound interesting. Sample this: You won't ask your neighbour if he or she likes beige or metallic interiors when you are painting your house, would you?

Of course, sounding somewhat logical is called for but your fantasy should follow your logic not the world's norms.

That's what these fiction writers did, they could shake off the constraints of trying to justify their writings and write for themselves, ending up with classics and bestsellers.

But, its easier said than done (as every cool and awesome thing on self-help blogs and books is). Even the best writers can never completely uproot what they go by in the real world. At a certain level it will influence one's writing. But such a touch is involuntary and is either unpalpable or pleasing.

You can go "Oh that's easy," but you'll know exactly how tough it can get, when you write. At the end of every line, you'll be asking yourself, "Oh, what will people say to that?". These kinds of thoughts are very hard to ignore. But, once the self-realization sets in you'll find such questions melting away. You'll want to know how YOU will react to a line, and that's when your imagination will really take over.

It's not Mr President's G8 speech, its your world that we are talking about, your playground. So go, play God.

Its all about realizing that only YOU can write a book that you will love to read.

Social Networking- Where from Here?

“I am afraid it is a non-starter. I cannot even use a bicycle pump.”
• When asked whether she uses e-mail.
Judi Dench : in Times, 13 Feb 1999


Social Networking is ‘The Buzz’ on the Web these days. And everybody seems to smitten by this e-bug. Twitter, Facebook, FreindFeed and a host of other websites are the places to be these days.


As dynamic as it's growth is, social networking mushrooms on one simple idea- bringing people closer to each other. The keynote storm started about two and a half years ago, a period when social networking sites were literally multiplying by the day. Now that we have so many of these websites, do we really need more?

I think the way forward would be exploring ways of linking the present socio-net sites to provide a user with richer experience of social-networking and give a new meaning to the phrase ‘being on-line’. The point I want to stress is that, every possible contour of web-based socializing has been explored (well, under the restraint of the present technological know-how.), so it would naïve to pile on content on a single web-page. Instead, clever tie-ups with other sites would make the user-experience better, redefine ease of use and set bench-marks for future.

Here, I would like to point out the striking resemblance of the growth of social-networking with the growth of internet itself. During its early stages, organizations and groups developed computer networks exclusively for their firms (Arpanet et all). But soon enough it was realized that the strength of a network lies in the number of workstations it syncs. That small realization back then is the main reason why internet is the big monster that it is, today. And the same goes for social-networking. The techies should dig deep and ensure that socio-net’s future is bright.

These are early days for socio-net. There maybe divided opinions about its future, some different than mine. What’s your perception? Drop in a line.