It was a rainy September morning when Mr. Brixton received a letter from his sister carrying the news of her dead husband. It didn’t quite shock him because he was aware of the poor man’s bad health; and being a biologist, he somewhat figured that the man didn’t have much time to live. He grieved that his brother-in-law had to die too young and he couldn’t be with his family in the time of tragedy. Mr. Brixton was supposed to depart the day before, to the town where his sister lived, with a parcel for the Biology Research Institute. However because of the heavy rain that was pouring for the past days, it didn’t arrive on time. Cursing under his breath he left the letter on the table and went to pack his baggage. Continue reading
I finally took out my phone after thinking, for a thousand times, if I should call her. I dialed up her number and put it over my ears to hear it ring. It rang and rang and as it did I thought of the infinite possibilities of how the conversation might go. Continue reading
The only reason I am writing this post is because I want to write something but had no good ideas. This is the best among my all worst ideas! . . . Best of all the worst as in better than the rest in a good way, not like the worst of all worst; you probably got that. Let’s continue. Continue reading
I remember my mother’s eyes, green and beautiful. Maya got her eyes from her, and whenever dad saw her he would become sad and say she left him alone with us. But dying wasn’t her choice; not the way she died. Mom was struck down with the Witch’s fever during the winter when Maya was just five. She lost a mother when she needed one the most, and dad spent most of his time in the town bar ever since.
Reading the “Sparks” from “What Young India Wants ” by Chetan Bhagat was one those life changing moments that one gets from inspirational people. It was initially presented as a speech by him at an orientation programme for MBA students in Symbiosis, Pune, on 25 July, 2008. He discussed about how one is led by curiosity at the beginning of a new event in their life. He called this excitement, “Spark”. Here’s what I’ve learned from him.
Learning to appreciate oneself is a progressive process. It doesn’t happen overnight. “Try to appreciate what you have”, is a lot easier said than done, for, it’s the human empathy of self-sympathy that makes it difficult. However, with experiences, one learns to take control over their life, and thus appreciate themselves.
There is always something which can clam you, no matter how intense or frustrated your mind is. In my case, this time, were a pair of beautiful feet of a lovely looking girl. It shifted my frustration completely, or at least that’s what I kept thinking for an hour. My frustration was over the creation of a quarantine institution by the Head of the inst.; to be precise, Head of our section. Not a disease quarantine, but rather an activity quarantine (games mostly).