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Scribbling

Having woken up at four in the morning, I am seeking ideas to start the day on a good note, but none comes to the mind. Strangely enough, I am not in a mood to prolong the eight hours sleep I have had already. Very unlike me. But the question remains – What should I do?
Watching the T.V is most often the answer. However, I feel I already have over exhausted this idea in the last few days. Besides, there isn’t anything specific that I'd like to watch anyway. And still, I spent the four days long weekend doing nothing but being a couch potato, watching nothing specific almost every time I found myself in front of the idiot box.
My solitude is generally driven by feelings like regret and introspection. Starting from school days till the working life now, the feelings haunt me, mock at me, show me how life could have been better, if I did things I didn't do and didn't do things I did. I wonder if studying a bit more, proposing that girl I adored in school, pursuing a career in cricket could have really left me with no regrets now. Perhaps I would have still regretted something else.
Anyway, I find nothing better than gathering my mixed thoughts and putting them down on paper. Probably, this will also find it's way in my blog. Why "probably"? Because I don't make any decision in life before accessorizing it with a lot of 'may be', 'I think' and 'I guess'. Confusion has become an integral part of my life. Fortunately, I have come to terms with it now. At least I think I have.
Anyway, I realize that whatever this is turning out to be, is not even close to being called literary. I should stop scribbling at once.

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Gumnami...

गर गुमनामी का यूँ इश्तहार न देते हम, तुमसे रूबरू होने की हर गुंजाईश खो बैठते

Arz kiya hai

गर चाशनीयों में बस्ता है ज़िन्दगी का जायका क्यूँ भला परहेज़ न रखें हम नम्कीन्यों से

True worthless answers

We do not know how to not understand. To be able to be in balance with our mysterious surroundings, we attribute everything beyond our comprehension to something that we can live with. When we made up the story of God, we found comfort in mystery and ignorance. By making Him responsible for everything, we seasoned ourselves not to look for answers all the time. The quest being less intense, we get on with our lives…unperturbed. Our forefathers who found religion in the beginning were indeed intelligent. Those who were dumb to fall for god and the like were not capable of finding the answers anyway. The revelation of my religious orientation should have been gradual and less cruel. But I just could not control the urge to dramatically deny what I don’t believe in. There is another theory which perfectly explains practice of religion by the most intelligent and bright people. They probably understand why it is absolutely necessary to be foolishly optimistic of His existence. It appe...