A Bowl of Elusive

How many of you thought you'd become an astronaut when you grew up? How many of you thought you'd become a spy like James Bond? How many of you thought that because you did something better than others this one time in school, meant you were special? How many of you felt like you were born to do great things? I am sure, all of you. And how many of you are doing great things? Some of you? Many of you are earning well, have great families, and have something to live for, but is that the greatness you envisioned growing up? Probably not, right? All of us as children have this wonder for life, this excitement for the things to come. And as we grow up, most of us, lose this excitement. My uncle used to tell me that our creativity comes from this excitement - this wonder - the same excitement that gives children the ability to appreciate animated movies. This wonder, this penchant to believe in miracles, drives a lot of children. As they grow up, they are faced with one disillusionme...

Every now and then, I have moments where thinking about the present gets overwhelming and I resort to thinking about the past. And since the last several years of my life haven't been particularly pleasant, my mind wanders off to my childhood. If you have followed my blogs, you must have read the bits I have written about certain incidents from my childhood - be it the memories of having sweets with my father, triggered by "balushahi", or the various fragrances of trees and shrubs which take me back to a certain time in my life. While most of the time, I think about certain incidents that highlight my childhood, if I try to remember my childhood in general, I keep landing on visions of the backyard gardens of the several houses I have lived in.  The earliest one I remember was behind this house in Sector 31, Chandigarh. I can barely remember the house itself - it was one of those generic air force quarters, maroon bricks and a grey door and a mix of wall and barbed wires ...

You don't see a lot of love letters these days. Its a pity how so many staples of the last generations are eventually becoming redundant due to new technology. Receiving a love letter on email while equally titillating for a person in love, will never hold the nostalgic value of a piece of paper with eternal markings of love. A love letter, even when its torn to bits is still a piece of history for its recipient. Will an email ever hold that kind of value? It was way back in 2004, I think when I received my first love letter. It was anonymous, just a few generic words on an Archie's card. But the card was scented. Roses, I remember. It smelt like roses. Now I have never been a romantic, but it was an experience. One that I still remember at times. Not romantically as such, but as a fond memory. The fun fact was that I still don't know for sure who actually sent that letter. I mean, I was pretty sure who it was, but the person I suspected never really admitted to act...