Every living moment is a writing opportunity. Exploiting these prospects is dependant on writer's capability of delivering rhetoric. In spite of bearing such absolute thoughts, I have been suffering from the writer's block. And no, I am not trying to drop subtle hints for being identified as a genuine writer. Instead, I am giving a consolation to myself that I am fashionable enough to have the dreaded 'writer's block'. Can I document every second of jealousy, hatred, lust, pain, love, patriotism? Not unless I have a wand in my hand. I miss the days when I used to fall in love every day. During school days, the hypnotism in 'love' compelled me to bunk classes, save tiffin, join English tuition and bear being a laughing stock. I remember saving money for a classmate's voluntary charity program. Ironically, now, a more resourceful moi would rather choose to indulge in some extravagance. I recall how I bought gifts for people on their birthdays….and made bir...

A hodgepodge is what can least describe my state now. I might be thinking a thousand thoughts one moment and I might be totally blank in another. Friends, the attack on Gaza, white tiger of Arvind Agida, the slumdog, friends, the Mumbai attacks, my career, my job, friends, food, Ma, the stock market........ And then a sudden, deafening serenity. The overwhelming pace with which these feelings occur to me has not let me focus on anything at all. Meditation isn’t helping. Medication would be futile too. I wish I could exactly write my mind. Literally, every word of it without insisting on rhetoric and just implying what I think.

What is the first thing of your existence that you remember??? Has this question occurred to you? I have no qualms in boasting the philosophical breakthrough myself but I know there are many cynics in the world. It was one of those dreaded 'free' weekends when I was made to remember a few incidents of my distant and muddled past. I recalled going to my first school and being excited about it. I can’t help but marvel at the excitement pas raison. I was hardly a soul with 'senses'. Guess that does explain the excitement. I remember to have participated in a race in my school which my mum now claims never happened. Was I schizophrenic? I remember Ma leaving me in a photo shop after having a photo done with me. It sounds dramatic, but Ma was in the next shop buying grocery then. In my next school, the only day I recall is a day when I went to school with no books and just a pencil box because someone told me there was an exam on that day. It would have been my first exam. H...

I feel terrible now having realized how wrong I was in introducing this new blog series. Friends (other than the ones I had written about) advised me against it. And, although, these could be entertaining 'pieces', my motivations seem haywire to me. So, without further discussion, I am putting an end to this series. I'll be back to my usual self. Don't know why I started thinking about the readers' entertainment so much?

I realize that my obsession with 'me' should end and I should concentrate more on others on my blog. Not only does it end the excruciating introspection, it also gives me a few days off the hardcore self-criticism and allows to indulge in some carelessness,some foolishness and adventure. For the next days, I will be writing about my friends and those who come close to being friends. These pieces would not necessarily comprise of endearing words. Looking forward to it…

FRIENDS & FOES!!! I need a new name. No....I am not another Gogol in the making (those who have read or seen Namesake would be familiar with the character). I love my name and I love my parents for having dropped 'Dipak' and 'Prasanjit' from the available choices when they were selecting a name for me. This urge to be named again has arisen out of a million reasons. One of the reasons is the absolute inability of people to pronounce my name. The toughest part for me, however, is to see people try...and thus ...distorting any aesthetic meaning my names conveys. Mineral, Meenal, Meernaal, MNL, Mrrrl are the common ones to which I have got so used to, that I may not respond or react if someone actually calls out my name with the correct pronunciation. The newest reason for my renewed desperation to get a 'user friendly' pet name that speakers of languages other than hindi find it very difficult to pronounce the letter 'ण'. SO....Name me please... Sugges...

I often wonder about the source that motivates my aimless wandering. Having arrived at multiple answers where deduction does not hold true, I get compelled to succumb to a million other thoughts which crave for my attention. But during a rare prolonged free time, I do answer my own question, though not in exact terms. Why do I call myself a wanderer? And, what is it of stagnation that apprehends me? A couple of years ago, Dhanbad was my whole world. However, I was always convinced that moving to another city was inevitable. It seems too recent to be nostalgic about that gang of jobless friends, the big house with a rickety look, annoying relatives. I find the idea of living in a small town not inferior but convenient. If I chose to be at Dhanbad, I could have become a lot more than what I am now. The reputation of ancestral goodwill and the profession of law could have sailed me beyond every inch of uncertainty and misery that comprises my life now. Yet for reasons very typical of any ...