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The Days of Maggi and Masala

If experiencing the unpleasant can trigger gleeful memories of past, then that spell in past must have been extraordinarily cheerful.  
When I last wrote a blog, I was still in college. Writing a blog was one of the leisure I could pursue given the luxury of time. But more importantly, writing a blog was testimony of my naive belief that an idea should always be expressed and mere expression of a thought can spark a change in itself. Such were those days. Today I am writing to pay reverence to a time when to me world still appeared to be salvable (I am not certain of it being a word, but it suited my purpose the most).   

"I am pissing steam"

It all started with today's fucking cold weather in Bangalore. Yes, to my surprise, it does get chilly here. Though, it is not really worrisome, but it did get me thinking about the steam pissing cold ( as Tanuj would put it) we used to have in the campus. Those were the times when I used to leave a laptop under my blanket with Call …

Dilli Diary

"For all its faults we love this city." - The city of Djinns
The thought of spending a couple weeks in Delhi in mid-April is something most people would dread and yet, I was brimming with excitement and anticipation. To me, it presented an opportunity to break away from the monotonic work culture of Bangalore and to reminisce about the old days with my college wing-mate in the city I  once used to call my second home. Now, while sitting in my return flight to Bangalore,  I am penning down my memoir of this trip to Delhi. 
Heat, Warmth and Hotheads
Summer heat was the first thing I sensed after stepping out of my flight in Delhi. This experience completely wiped out whatever tranquil effect was lingering on from the mesmerising aerial view of the city from my flight- ’ The floating island of lights in the sea of darkness' . I estimated the temperature in Delhi at the moment - validated it using the Accuweather app and registered the fact that Delhi nights were hotter than …

You still not die?

Biting winds pierce by Ripping my soul into shreds Cold night that muffles me Whispers only of winter ahead.
I dare not hope for a fireplace Nor heat of a rug do I aim I seek that flickering candle-light To help me have some warmth in dream
Battered body, tattered soul Demand only one reply With goals lost and dreams crushed Why, o man, you still not die?

The above poem is merely a rephrasing of Robert Frost's poem A Question with my words and absorption of the core idea. The poem throws light on the immense pain and suffering that accompanies almost everyone's life; then, enquires meaning and worth of such an existence. Here is Robert Frost's original poem which is more lyrical and succinct.
A voice said, look me in the stars, And tell me truly, man of earth, If all the body-and-soul scars Were not too much to pay for birth.