O bloggers where art thou?

A Looong, looong time ago in a Galaxy far, far away ......... cut cut cut. I know these are emotional times but there’s no need to get all melodramatic right about now. The point I was trying to make was make that a while back I had started blogging taking me on this emotional rollercoaster where thoughts flew thick and fast as I put myself along with various my contrived ideas for public consumption. Some people joined me in this journey as we exchanged our thoughts across our set of blogs resulting in there always being something to look forward to at boring hours at work, or times when we got tired of pointless surfing across the net or watching too much TV. It was a fun time where all those people on my blog roll posted actively and I opened up their blogs in expectation of reading something new. But of late I have noticed that a lot of blogs that I used to visit and even actively comment on, have been going dead from lack of activity. I don’t know whether it’s a plain exhaustion of ideas, or lack of time, or just loss of interest in blogging. Whatever it is this affliction is quite bad because it’s taken epidemic proportion and stricken almost every blog on my blog roll. I have been a victim too but I a not ready to give up anytime soon. Even though I might be creatively broke of late blogging still continues to give me as much joy as it used to. So for the sake of the joy that runs across all the readers including mine when I visit blogs I like and see a new post, we should all pledge to continue to write whenever we can. As I have said before blogging is not about penning masterpieces, if it was people would just simply switch to reading books from fancy authors. Blogging has always been about people who like you managing to get a piece of you and I don’t think it’s fair to deny them their share, so write on bloggers :)

Life's palette

Life is but a gamut of emotions
Despair is but sadness in slow motion
Contempt is but an egotistical devotion
Anger is but aggressive frustration
Jealousy is but spiteful serration
Hope is but an optimistic notion
Ecstasy is but manifested elation
Love is but the sweetest potion

Happy Valentines Day to all you all :)

LMTWGR

It had taken him 28 years but Aryan Malhotra had finally managed to realize all his dreams. He had finally moved into a dream condo in Manhattan, had a dream job and was living the life most people dreamt of living by the time they were 40. His peers said he was living the American dream but he refused to be drawn into any such conversation because he always believed that the American dream was only for the outsiders. Even though his parents were Indian he had been born and brought up in America. While his parents had struggled financially with his upbringing, his hard work and determination to succeed had pulled him through the most prestigious of colleges and the most sought after degrees to the life he was currently living. He had grown up in this country which he had always thought of as his own and inspite taunts and slurs at his early school days he had always regarded himself as an American. He often heard people praising him or bringing him down on how well he had adopted the culture but in his mind there had been no choice. He was the way he was, having no real attachment to his parent's homeland often feeling very out of place on the two occasions that he was ever down there. He was lost in this chain of thoughts till he braked sharply bringing the red light ahead of him into focus. He smiled to himself as to how easily he let himself float in these train of thoughts.

It was then that his attention was drawn to the light on the dial of his new beamer indicating time for a refill on the gas. He decided to pull into the new gas station that just opened the day before and whose low prices had caught his attention immediately. As he pulled into the station he noticed that it was owned by a bunch of Indians and he got that funny feeling again. The feeling he always used to get being around people from his own country, a feeling that they somehow wanted to connect with him being from his country, and him feeling as if he had nothing to give back in return because he was someone else. He wished they would stop greeting him with eyes that seemed warmer than they would be for others and that lit up when seeing someone from their own country in a foreign land. His hand immediately reached out to turn his I Pod from the Bollywood songs he was playing to some heavy metal music. Bollywood songs were something that he considered were passed down in his genes and even as he grew up he somehow found it very hard to give up on his fondness for all Bollywood songs just like his mom. It made up for more than half his music collection on his brand new I Pod and he took it along with him wherever he went in his car. However he felt kinda odd when driving up his car to this station for some reason and for reasons unknown to him he changed the music from Indian music to some English songs he didn’t enjoy as much too. He even surprised himself when he found himself behaving in a detached and indifferent manner to the old man attending to him and left without so much as responding to his greeting as he drove off from the station. He found this feeling overcoming him every time he drove through that the station in the months thereafter. He got all uncomfortable everytime making sure he changed his preferred Bollywood play list on his I Pod to the not so preferred rock and metal play lists everytime he got there and avoided making too much eye contact with the old man who greeted him very warmly everytime he attended to him. He would have actually stopped going there altogether if the station wasn’t right next to his home and if it wasn’t so much cheaper than the other ones.

A lot had been happening in Aryan Malhotra’s private life since moving to Manhattan about six months back. His wife was expecting their first child and reading up all those baby care self-help books took up whatever time his busy work left him in the day. He was really looking forward to the baby personally and everything seemed to be progressing smoothly. So he was surprised when he was woken up 2 days before the expected date of delivery by his wife as she was complaining of labor pains. He immediately rushed out of the bed and was ready with his SUV pulled out in front of the house in minutes. He got his wife into the vehicle and soon enough he was driving as fast as he could to the nearby hospital. On the way he noticed that he was out of gas and decided that it was better to load up rather than be stranded on the road. He pulled into the gas station he had frequented so often grudgingly in the past six months. Sure enough he was greeted by the old man again but he was the last thing on his mind as he wanted to drive away towards the hospital as soon as possible. As soon as the man finished pumping he dug into his pockets to pay for the gas. It was then that he discovered that in his hurry to get out of the house he had forgotten to carry his wallet. He looked around desperately for some cash in his car but was not able to find none. He was a good 10 miles away from his house and there was no ways he could go back home in this situation. Also he had to get to the hospital as soon as possible with his wife writhing in pain in the backseat. His mind went absolutely blank as he sized up his options. Right then the old man who probably had been observing all this commotion from inside came out and walked up to his window. He said he understood the situation and it was ok if he came back later to pay for the gas. Also he insisted that he should rush to the hospital as soon as possible. Tears welled up in Aran’s eyes as he couldn’t thank the old man enough. The old man just smiled and said "Aaakhir ek hindustani hi to hindustani ke kaam aata hai" (In times of need an Indian comes to the aid of another) . Almost as if on cue strains of shehnai from 'Ye jo des hai tera' wafted through his I Pod in his vehicle. He smirked and muttered under his breath "Damn you Steve Jobs, almost spot on with your timing aren’t you?”.