Thoughts in Words

The other day my grandchildren sent me a whatsapp (what else) video wherein they were playing with their neighbour’s tiny cute little bundle of a Shih Tzu pup. They were frustrating him by not giving the ball to him. I got wild. Game should be played with equal chances and when it comes to pups they should always win. Every dog should have his day. And then Dr Divya, a top notch gynaecologist of Hyderabad sent me a picture of the shining head of her Daschund pup, his tongue licking her palm. He will grow to be a long dog for sure. My thoughts bundled backwards over the years. Once in the early 80s I happened to lay my hands on a book titled “The Man Who Spoke Dog” in a library. I borrowed it and am not ashamed to say that I didn’t return it for I knew when I saw a treasure. I happily paid the due fine. But as it happens I lent the book to someone to whom I could not recollect later and so lost possession. I broke the axiom, “never lend a book”. Also the philosophy of losing wh...

I had the worst of times and I had the best of times. Through a lot of foolishness I have reached an age of wisdom, yet to be fully attained. There were times of incredulity and there were times of belief. There were seasons of darkness and there were seasons of hope. During the winters of despair I dreamt of the springs of hope. I had nothing before me and I had everything before me. The above paragraph sounds familiar? Yes it would. I took it from Charles Dickens and mangled it out of shape! You see it seemed apt for the story about to be told. Looking back over my narrow shoulders at my life and weighing the good and the bad, what I had and what I have, what I needed and what I wanted, what I dreamt of and what was dealt to me, I have two things against God. I am not an atheist, let me declare. But I am not really “God fearing” as one is expected to be, brought up to be. Whatever I do or even think God knows it all, right? So to me God is more of a friend. You might s...

Having executed what might seem to many as my death wish, meaning smoking, albeit frustrating such many nincompoops for many decades, it is time to record my dying wish. Once I kick the bucket, no blame should be placed on me, but the shroud. It is silly to meet your maker, naked. Time of death is but then the biggest mystery. Hence it is better to make a bucket list a priory. Those who have seen war movies or westerns obviously have noticed that the man who is about to be done for is given a swig or a drag or both by the very compassionate “pardner”. Let that be remembered in my case. The soothing that it gives is immense and is not to be denied to me. I would like to go high and in a swirl of vanishing smoke. If there are any movies that I enjoyed other than those of Sophia Loren or Gina Lollobrigida are the genres mentioned. I don’t obviously know who those compassionate ones would be next to me at the appointed hour, but I hope it will be one of the loyal readers of my blogs. ...