I love you

I have been with you for close to 7 years now . I have seen you grow from girl to woman in these last 7 years . Over the last month i saw you in two halves , one of a woman not ready to give up at any cost , the other a little girl whose lost at a picnic and is looking for her dad. As i tried to keep up with one half while holding the hand of the other i fell in love with you again. While we fought the darkness around us with smiles on our faces and hope in our hearts all i could think of was you. I didnt know your dad very well , it is in you that i discovered him in this last month . Your strength gives me hope every day , the way you face up to every morning after every crushing evening flattens you makes me want to fight harder , strive longer and be better at whatever i do. You keep asking me how much i love you , i try silly answers everytime but the truth is i feel blessed to have you , i am the luckiest man alive that you chose to hang in there for this imperfect , lazy , eccentric , selfish , self absorbed narcissist . Thank you for being who you are ! I know our lives are tough but as long as i have you i dont give a flying fuck ! Everything will just HAVE to work out for our lost little girl ..

While we are all here..

Read this article by Amish Tripathi on what clicked  for him in making him a "million plus books sold" gold standard writer , he mentions his wife talking about a parallel universe in which all characters from all stories exist and how writers get a key to that place . So the writer through his book is in a way really setting up a travel agency to that alternate world . Letting more and more people into the world that he unlocked , taking them around on a conducted tour chapter by chapter. If you really were given access to such a world would you let others in or would you keep it all to yourself ? The former and the latter are probably how we know writers and lunatics better. Every lunatic is probably a "million plus books sold"writer who really saw Xanadu and is still roaming the streets wide eyed , too engrossed to find his way back and finally put up that travel agency board.

The year that was.

Couldnt squeeze in a single post for a full year. As i sit hear reading some of the stuff that i wrote over the last few years i feel like writing again as if to compete with that younger (better) me . I am not sure if i am as funny as that younger guy anymore .. all mirth is kind of lost in balancing EMIs all around . Its humour of a darker stickier kind that pervades me now , i seek humor in strange places these days . Humor in predictable mails from your ASMs ..POP demands in the first week, "special" client requests in the 2nd ,  stock cribs in the second half of the month. Steady , periodic , funny. I see the funny side in the random internet service guys complete inability to sort out my issue or the absolute Modern Times clockwork pattern in which every 121 callcenter guy thinks. I seek my pound of humorous flesh from the clicketty clack of opening seatbelts barely 2 seconds after the wheels of aircrafts touch down and some dark part of me secretly wants the pilot to brake sharper or do something to make these numbskulls fly through the air and smash like pumkins on the aircraft walls around me . You can probably make out a few things about the year that was from where and how i derive pleasure from now. I hate salespeople, i hate their plastic smiles, their greasy palms and greasier tongues .. I feel like the world is producing too many maggots that dont deserve life.. and these incompetent monkeys are sapping the life out of me. I am travelling way too much and would love to sleep in my own bed atleast 20 nights a month. Also i would love to laugh more often on stuff thats genuinely funny like Calvin and Hobbes or Mamata Banerjee rather than the vitriolic bile that im aging inside of me.