Painful Pleasure

I was tempered in the embers of sadness. Becoming a unilateral subject to ventilate developing or residual anger on my father’s part, I used to face the adversity in meek gallantry. It never occurred to me to runway from physical harm to save my skin. I always used to close my eyes and my stimulus and senses condition my resistance to arriving impulse of pain.

I could not quite comprehend if its bravery or weakness. For I developed an intuition to experience premonition long before it coagulated. I just used to brace myself and in some strange way I used to feel relieved after the abuse passed by.

It might sound I have been too rude now in bearing my soul and showing the dark side of my father. It is not. In my childhood there are times when I suffered my own mute rebellion within my own heart as tears streamed down losing their own identity in my wiping palms. I used to feel in some innocently special way that what ever I seek is not sought by my other friends and may be… it’s a means for me to become strong in my life. Happiness and total harmony in any family used to baffle me. It is often too unrealistic to watch smiling faces all the time.

I learnt a few good things that are appealing to me over a period of time. I am not sure how it is to be understood in another perspective. But silence and solitude became unseen companions to me. I could sit at a lone corner with no sounds emanating from me for an impressively longer time. May be this is what they call meditation.

Some times the cauldron of deep rooted emotions stirs within when my attention is drawn towards an innocuous scene or sound. A lone child playing in mud afar… a bird chirping incessantly and cattle returning home in methodical precision guided by obscure intelligence. My subconscious emotions at the brink of mutiny suddenly used to lose their potency… I just could not fathom… why my lips bloom in to smile. Smiling feels good. Gut wrenching laughter even feels better. It rakes the innards to a seismic spam and refreshes every blighted corner of heart. I learnt that by observation.

But civility and mannerisms obviated my efforts to enjoy a good laughter when I am in teens. It ended up in an embarrassing and suppressed giggle there by clamping a lid on something that was supposed to be enjoyed in full.

Lessons like men don’t cry… and be a man… are often perplexing terms and artificial. Any emotion is healthy as long as you understand its repercussions and chose to realize the amount in which one must endure. I feel even jelousy and hatered could contribute their own better side if used with discretion. Perhaps this is the reason why women live more and suffer less heart ailments. They do what they please. They cry till toxins in their heart flush away

I see this transparently as moments ran past. I thought I was developing immunity to pain. I thought it would shield me from getting scorched in words that blister my soul. I hardened my own heart in to an unreceptive nonentity. But I was not aware that I can not make myself immune to happiness and joy that sprouts at undiscovered regions of my heart. Some times walking on road I suddenly smile for no reason. An embarrassing attempt to conceal my joy in bowing my head and making myself reclusive of my surroundings… is all I could do.

I have been deprived of physical touch at a personal level in my life. I was too arrogant in my childhood to notice my own mother’s attempts to hug me. In my teens I was too disorienting in categorizing the much needed contact and some times loath the same with profound intensity. I was scared of opposite sex in my growing years. I am not sure to what ghost in my life I could attribute this to.

In my own solitude’s protective cocoon, I started recalibrating myself to what’s essential in life. I realized the importance of communication, tenderness, empathy, wit and wisdom. Blooming so late in life is too exciting and too disappointing too. I made a few very good friends on internet that probably I could never have made in my real life with my mirror cracking looks and obvious lack of attraction towards power, money and ambition.

I just wish live life like a butterfly. To loiter and wander in wide eyed awe and earn a little to fill my famished gut now and then. I watch luxuries and orderliness around me in fascination that lasts only for a few minutes. Moments later I only look how genuine the smiles I see on faces and how intense the desire to combat pain. To live beneath a leaf in dark night… and shrivel in rain heading towards an impending death...

Physical pain hurts me no more.

In the fundamentals of science it’s stated that matter or energy could neither be created nor destroyed. This seems to have taken another dimension in my own self. The way I trained my own self immune to physical pain has encountered an unseen adversary. I discovered that I get hurt by unkind words.

I do not know if it’s a counter current developed towards my perceived faith towards being an unconditional contributor towards love. Towards offering a sense of companionship and support. To treat a chosen few as my complete responsibility. It’s always strange not to see the common picture that everyone else is not as isolated as me. They have their own support structure in the form of social net.

Sure I could not dwell deep in to their hearts to seek pleasures and pearls. But I dive deep within myself to seek pleasures and pearls… to offer them in my hands extended. I often do foolish things to make them smile and they sometimes smile not. Can not blame them for their impatience and irritation. For the root cause is my own ignorance, fallacy and error in judgment. Why could I not understand that everyone is not like a child who always receive everything in happiness from my hand… be it a dead leaf or a stray pebble.

I feel pain surge from the depths of my heart and try to reach my eyes. And my brain tries its best to push the pain back deep where it comes from. My eyes pave way for the pain to flow out. A thin film of tears envelops the surface of my eyes. And then they too get disappointed. The tears won’t come. The pain won’t go.

I wonder if growing up is a boon or bane. For as we grow we lose our sense of absolute honesty and develop relative honesty.

Our innocense has no distinction and bounds to enjoy anything the way we wish. We could sleep in deep slumber and roll as we like, chomp on our little thumb and cry as we like. We could jump from joy to pain and pain to placidity as we chose.

We grow in controlled atmosphere that’s littered with values morals discipline and experiences. This guides our own guides… I mean our elders to chose a path in which we must travel and this I what I am terming as relative honesty. Relative honesty is never absolute with respect to what I am comfortable with. I am not telling that I still retain the absolute honesty that I enjoyed when I was a child and not at all aware of that. But I feel I still retain a few streaks of absolute honesty as I am a recluse in my own world.

I thank all those who hurt me for they have been contributing their best to make me stronger still. I am profoundly grateful to those who hurt me and come back to me still to tend my wounds… for they anneal my brittle soul with their compassion. They make me smile again in boundless innocence. I wait for those who will come back to me eventually. I have no such direction as faith that guides me. All I look for is… what I anticipate not… Be it pain or pleasure….

Cartoons I love…

I am a die hard fan of cartoons and comics. When I was a child I used go along with my dad to English movies. Sometimes they used to show a clip or two of Walt Disney’s Donald Duck or Mickey Mouse. I was though not proficient in English at time I used to enjoy them to my heart’s content.

In my teens I started collecting comics of Mickey & Donald. I used to read them religiously and every succeeding time I read I used to discover a new thing.

I realized that though they are meant to entertain children they have a streak of maturity that requires a definite amount of intelligence to relish them in full. When I saw this I decided that I shall never treat comics or cartons as a pass time that’s to be devoted for only in childhood. I never lost touch with them.

Later as I grow up TV started showing them on Cartoon network. It’s so wonderful and hilarious to watch all of them at one place. Though I am a proclaimed lover of cartoons I developed a special liking for some of them. My favorites turned out to be Donald Duck, Tom & Jerry, Fred Flintstones & Garfield.

But let me present my most favorite comic that was never animated on screen. It’s The Great Calvin & Hobbes by Bill Waterston. I started reading them as newspaper comic strips. Ohh god… I do not know if I must admire Mr. Bill Waterston as a writer or Calvin & Hobbes as quintessential characters. They are just amazing. I keep on reading them not only to elicit gut wrenching laughter but also to educate myself in effective communications that’s designed to my advantage, what ever applicable policy I chose. The funniest thing is after all these years I relate my own character to him. I do not have Hobbes as companion. But I try to make every other friend in my life in to Hobbes. Susie on the other had is a sweet girl who lets not faith slip away from her interest towards brat Calvin. Hobbes changes his stripes always when it comes to favor Susie for Calvin.

The next favorite character is Fred Flintstones. The most loveable character that could happen in every family. He is blessed with a wonderful wife, adorable kid and most valuable friend and neighbor Barney Rubble. But he is always possessed by some wicked thoughts that shall take him only to a height and then guilt consensus attacks him. He is not a bad guy at the end of the day, but… he is not gonna be good for the entire day

And then comes my favorite fat cat Garfield. My cousin named me Garfield. Because when I visit their place I do only three things. Eat sleep and watch TV. I love his theatrics and histrionics in escaping a situation or attaining what he wants. His has this praiseworthy attitude of making other people work for him.

Then Tom & Jerry is an unending marathon. They fight and try to over power each other in the most innovative ways one could surmise. But deep within their hearts they could not live without each other. I do have such friends who whom I fight tooth and claw but we could never go away from each other just because we fought bitterly.

All in all my favorite comic characters have some common qualities. They are arrogant, greedy, envious, and lazy and hesitate not to take advantage. But on the other side they are so innocent, proactive, compassionate and with adorable heart.

I implore my friends out there to read them and relish them. They teach us the truths of life and tell us what’s more important at the end of the day. They will allow you to retain your innocence as you proceed towards the process of getting emotionally polluted in this highly practical and realistic world.

An Indian Bride…

Marriage is a memorable event in a girl’s life. I have my own reservations to apply this thought in a man’s life. As most of them consciously or subconsciously feel that marriage is a perk they earn after fulfilling their achievements and identities. They are too engrossed in making money and developing careers, and marriage naturally comes their way either by their own efforts or lack of it there of. (I mean the efforts of elders at home would compensate for the lack of efforts on a man’s part).

My observation since my childhood indicated that no girl would ever admit to get married so blatantly when confronted with the question. Deep within the core of their hearts they always dream of a beautiful future shared with a companion and blissful consequences like social security, children and contentment.

I hail from a small place from down south (India). I used to sneak in to women’s arena when I was a kid. They are tolerant wards little imps who run amok and looked so gorgeously beautiful in their silk saris and jewelry. The other side of the male bastion used to radiate a different aura. They were more concentrated on sharing the glowing pride of groom who used to look so majestic and with not an iota of embarrassment.

Bride… on the other hand always suffered mixed emotions. Deep within her own private confusion she used get invaded from multiple quarters of kith and kin around. It’s just a matter of perception and proportion to see her eyes exhibit all emotions contradicting each other. Fear of unknown, anguish of expulsion, joy of reaching a new page of life and eventual disorientation to experience all these things at same moment.

I am not sure if girls of this age would experience the same in the magnitude what girls about ten years ago experienced. The rule applies same to every generation with a precedent generation. I wonder if all of them are trying to make the bride move away from a fear that’s germinating within her heart. Married woman try look brighter and mischievously tease the bride to break her lethargy.

I saw an advertisement on TV about some diamond jewelry where the bride looks deep and intense in the eyes of groom and says… “You may now kiss the bride”. I beg your pardon but somehow I felt uncomfortable about this streak of western intent. Or rather I dare say even in western culture the groom would be prompted by the priest to kiss the bride.

From the day beginning starting decorating the bride to the point of reaching the wedding arena every step she takes towards the culmination of her future is measured with fear in her eyes. Its so ironic that the girls who are loved so much within the family are suddenly given enlightenment about leaving them and go away with someone unknown or vaguely known.

The other heart wrenching side of her torture is seeing her parents… especially her father cries. It’s something I always consciously avoid. Some times I feel if it is worthy to hurt a girl so much in the name of marriage to wrench away from her father.

Majority of our society is still conservative in thought even it is getting layered with expressions of freedom. I am trying to point my concerns towards the pure and unblemished emotions that go within the heart of a girl.

Their ability to absorb pain and pleasure is quintessential. Their resilience is commendable. Their magnanimity in trying to keep everyone happy is adorable.

My beloved friends from other countries… You must come and witness the above in areas that are not too westernized in my beloved country. You will cherish… for a moment… may be… the power of being so tender and submissive

Eastern Promises....

Yesterday I watched the movie “Eastern Promises”.

Underworld, criminal syndicates and mafia… always fascinated me. They do not try delving in to the cryptic side of my criminal streaks. But I truly am fascinated with their ability to absorb and react to any given situation in reaching their objective. Like any other predator they do pray on the weak and their weakness. They also realize their own weakness and try swiftly to cover it and come up.

The tight rope walk between exorbitant reward and extreme perils they encounter on daily basis makes them suspicious like a hungry rat towards anyone and anything that they confront. At the same time virtues like loyalty and sacrificial fanatism makes them most powerful against the prevailing forces of moral and legal brigades.

I do not support their means however… in making their life and creating their power bases. This perhaps is the imbecile nature of mine as in comparison to anyone who does not approve their chosen way of life. Or perhaps because I am mightier in my sense of contentment that ensures no exploitation on others.

The perennial war between good and evil sometimes reverses roles. Good can invade evil through people who are branded Bad. And bad could hit back at good in the guise of good. The fine line in distinguishing good for others and good for self is often obscured and there enters the irreversible evil that can not allow anyone to extricate themselves later.

Vor V Zakone – The Russian Mafia shown in this movie hath exhibited similar traits that were shown by another underworld clans around the world shown. Its ironic to watch the father’s brilliant plan to save his son from imminent death of son's and son’s devotion to father even in killing an infant to protect his father. Certain moments in this movie makes you believe that there is no such thing law, morals or compassion in this world save for raw power and those who are poised to enjoy it the way they wanted.

And soldiers of truth also get entangled in this web to the extreme that they just could breathe a little to feel righteousness in their lungs. Could just open their eyes now and then to save meager possibility to push someone away from the harms way. The bigger machines and bigger pictures would always engulf and devour the lives of smaller players. Be it the law or be it counter law.

It really is a thought provoking movie.

It will make one wonder if employing the means to fight anything with principles to which we adhere to… would really work. It will make you see sense in becoming a chameleon in the rapidly changing background of good and bad. It makes you wonder how far anything could be given faith where human ego could alter everything and objectivism bows everything in to smithereens.

If you are as mad as me… You will like this movie… Believe me…

The Intoxicating Pleasure…

It is often a voracious debate between me and my female friends about consumption of intoxicants. I am referring to consuming alcoholic drinks and them… as any hot blooded Indian women express their extreme distaste towards it. Not that nowadays Indian girls are not coming out of closet to join the main stream cultural evolution that’s getting inclined more towards westernization.

I watch in mute silence as they get hazy in their orientation by drinking alcohol. I am not a male chauvinist. But somehow I feel a woman’s heart, soul and body that’s designed to generate and nurture another life within, is not to be treated with something that’s detrimental. Besides their propensity to bank towards emotion that liberates them in hesitation should they need to decide upon something, could not really stop themselves from what they wish to do.

I offer my profound apologies. You reserve your right to do what ever you feel like doing.

And most of my female friends do not fall in this category. Thank god. They scream at me when I insinuate that I am gonna get drunk. They try their best to twist my emotional arm to a convoluted angle and yet listen to me like a good friend.

They say I must not consume alcohol.

And I try harder to justify my act by citing historical, mythological and religious reference. (Don’t ask me to elaborate and come up with counter theories. Because I pick only select anecdotes that are in favor of my eye rolling fantasy). Facts like the angel clan in Hinduism used to drink Sura… a form of liquor and Lord Jesus distributing red wine to his disciples. I ask my female friends back… look at what you are preaching and who you are worshipping. They grind grit their teeth in powdery pulverizing fashion.

I claim that I do not consume it to the point of addiction. I do indulge in such luxury now and then. There is no plan for this and on an average I enjoy the pleasure of alcohol induced bliss once in a month… may be… an unexpected booze party is always welcomed with arms wide open. And when I am euphoric to the point of recklessness I do contemplate and execute my misadventure.

But to lessen the guilt quotient I always make it a point to call my girl to seek permission. One fortunate thing about her is she is conditioned to accept the role of alcohol in a man’s life as she grownup watching her dad booze frequently. But she sets me limits and some times follows up if I am honoring the promises made. I do honor the promises made.

Not because I am a good boy. But because I have this unspeakable problem that’s actually a blessing in disguise. I do develop malignant looking rashes on my skin if I go beyond three peg limit.


I watch Hollywood movies in utter fascination as they drink alcohol as if they were drinking water. What ever climatic conditions or cultural or social code of conduct that makes them not look much towards alcohol with criticism or disdain.

I feel one must drink to enjoy and definitely not to compensate pain, anger or depression. One must also be observant about the point of tilt he is going to trudge upon. If you happen to watch the movie Devdas… an iconic Indian hero who represents undying commitment towards his lady love that could not marry him, you will see his obvious attempts to replace emotional reclusion with alcohol. More than him I happen to get impressed with another character of that movie… Chunni Lal… Brilliantly portrayed by Jacky Shroff. He just drinks to seek best of the pleasure,

The other think I am observant about hogging fried and unhealthy food as we venture in to that high speed highway to dome. I prefer to munch and crunch raw carrots, cucumbers, tomatoes, onion slivers, turnips and beetroot.

I love that feeling of reaching the dividing edge of discipline and freedom. I relish the illusion of floating in my own senses. I appreciate the sense of brotherhood generated between amongst fellow drunks. I get amazed at the crystallized will to speak truth and confess fears.

And the dark side of the above vista is… I hate myself next day for being so irresponsible. I get itchy rashes all over my arms and forearms and yikes… I bang my head on wall screaming why, why, why… I slap myself first and tell myself that never again in my life I am gonna get drunk.

But my resolve wears off after a month the same way alcohol wears off my blood stream. In matters of boozing, I am like a dog’s tail that bends not. But I am a good tail of dog as I do not get bent immediately and it would at least take a month to reach my own wickedness again….

Ha ha ha ha ha…..

Hey… By the way… I have this diabolic fantasy to watch one of… I mean… any of my female friends to get drunk and fight me with words slurred. A distant dream that probably could never be fulfilled…

Any takers???

Deception of Delicious Snacks and Sweets…

I am pleasantly baffled at the recollection of my childhood memories. I am not sure if you experience the same. When I lose myself in my own thoughts I see a vista of my own childhood and all those things I was not able to understand.

One of them was an imminent confidence that used to radiate from when I am near an elder who belong to me. Be it my mother, father aunt or uncle. They used to look so towering and huge and make me feel that I am protected by Goliath.

I never realized at that time that I was small and I shall grow up the way they are. I used to watch them in awe as they stride like lion or a lioness in savanna. And very impressively they are so resourceful. If I wanted a sweet they somehow managed to get me one within a few minutes. Some time they used to treat me with sweets when I was least expecting them.

I used to look forward to the visit of my aunts who used to love about 8 miles away. They are my mother’s younger sisters. They used to hug me and talk so sweetly to me and always used to bring some goodies for me to eat. I always used to dream about their arrival. I used to run towards them when I detect their distance profile looming in to a clear picture. I used to grab their bags that are bigger than my own frame and tried to help them make feel comfortable. But of course they used to laugh and along with their own weight they used to heave me over their shoulders to make me feel I conquered the world.

I was so proud looking at my neighbors as I watch them over the shoulders of my aunts. They used to bring a cake like milk sweet that used to be so big and I some time had to use both of my hands to grab it. And mouth could not swallow it in a single shot. And then there was this superiority complex that made me incite other children to salivating greed. I deliberately used to lick the sweet… lest it not get consumed but let me not lose the pleasure of its taste. In that process I used to get my hands sticky and I promptly used to wipe them off my shirt.

Then my aunts used to make snacks at kitchen. To save time and enjoy the undisturbed privacy they used to do that past dinner. I could not sleep still looking at the prospects of eating them as they were made. Though I was chided in to sleep I used to loiter around. Some time I used to offer my help in return for a delicious reward. It was so wonderful an experience to sit in the warmth of earthen stove that converted batter in to snack through the culinary skills of my mom and aunts.

Then they used to store them in tins. For the first few days everything was democratic. What ever and how much ever I used to ask… I used to get. Then everything would turn despotic. Nothing was available even when I ask rarely. My imagination used to run faster than my little legs could carry me. I used to wonder where was that tin that used to be right here in this shelf. My futile search some times made me wonder if they were telling me the truth about snacks been exhausted.
Then one day we saw a tiny mouse grousing through our small kitchen. I took the personal responsibility of running after that. It was so skilful in avoiding my attempts to hit him and ran amid the stock of tins. I was equally adamant and my speed and focus on mouse made me not realize my stride that knocked off a few tins.

Voila… one of the tins rolled and lid blown off its body and… Ohh my god… what’s this??? My favorite sweets rolled out of the tin too. All the while I was given misinformation about their depletion and what I witnessed made my diabolically cute mind wonder if when I was told… that sweets and snacks are exhausted… they should really be exhausted.

I learnt a new thing in the process of my own evolution. That when snacks are exhausted, they really do not get exhausted. They are misplaced or lost in the maze of other tins. Yet it stuck not to me that it was a deliberate act on my elder’s part. Be it with the intent of protecting a possible decay of my tooth or in extending the pleasure of making them available for a longer time.

Since then I was never disappointed or discourage when they said sweets and snacks were exhausted. All I needed to do was make my own search. This was promptly noticed by my mom one day and she reprimanded me for disturbing the harmony of kitchen shelves.

Then I learnt a new thing. The stealth I must follow to get unnoticed while I make my search. I used to wait patently or rather impatiently till she used to go take her noon nap. I was so successful for the next few days till I was scared by that mouse again and fallen off the kitchen shelf creating a mini war torn scenario in the kitchen.

Now that was a disaster I never anticipated. My so called Goliath kind of elder who used to give me the total impression of protection showered choicest expletives along with an intense marathon of slaps.

Well… What else??? I wiped my tears after a while and decided that its too risky to search for truth… Err… I mean snacks in this cruel and unpredictable world….

Today when I look around all those elders are actually shorter than me. And the same milk cake is occupying a quarter of my palm. I still was innocent in asking my aunt about the bigger size of that milk cake when I was a child. I asked her why they make these sweets small in size now. She laughed heartily and told me. The sweet is of same size, but you have grown bigger.

Opps… I think… I am not grown completely yet….

Resolutions...

I wish the fellow humans a very safe healthy and happy new year 2008. I would rather not wish you success and prosperity. For I believe the first three words I uttered are most important if push comes to shove.

Over a period of time I started recognizing the loss of excitement over welcoming New Year. I treat it like any other day except to witness inevitable cheer and glee from people around. Perhaps an excuse to go overboard their otherwise bland and disciplined lives. Perhaps to look forward to things they have been praying for and ventures they have been planning for.

And here comes resolutions. New Year resolutions. They always intrigued me even when I was a kid. I was by that time very restless to grow up and compete with elders around. To imitate and imbibe what so authoritatively they exhibit and try their best to undermine my own inferiority.

I was aghast looking at heroes climbing a ladder to paste movie posters on walls. How courageous they are to climb 5, 6… even 10 rungs of ladder and risking their lives to do that??? I took a resolution to become a poster boy (Now don’t try to explain me what a poster boy is. When I was a kid my perception of a poster boy is who paste posters on walls). Some times I used to roam around streets only to find if any poster boy is on the prowl. With much deliberation and courage I approached one such poster boy and offered my services of apprentice ship. He looked at me amusingly and gave me the fist task of brushing glue on a poster’s back. Wow… I was unspeakably thrilled at such an honor. In my excitement I failed to notice that one of my neighbors was spying on my activity and promptly reported the same to my despotic father. Rest is history, as I watched my resolution to become a poster boy laid in ruins.

Hey… did I tell you about my fascination to grow long hair??? Well... I loved to sport a shoulder length hair for I have this thick curly hair that’s admired by so many but hated by me. And then my father who always advocated crew cut to us used to march me towards the nearest barber when he suffered some moral dilemma about allowing my hair growth in disproportionate with his set standards. And very mercilessly my hair was mowed with a gross cutter like clipper as I bowed my head as if I were facing god. Even I was at the verge of tears, I used to giggle as it tickled a lot. Then when I raise my head to confront my own fate and reality right before me in the mirror, I used to sob in mute silence. But my dad was a born strategist. He used to lead me in to a nearest hotel and treat me with my favorite snacks. Alls forgiven and forgotten at last till I was marched back to the same place somewhere after a month.

Things like smoking a cigarette made me curious. But a gallant misadventure in trying the same hidden behind a tree in the back yard offered nothing greater than bouts of body raking coughs and water in my eyes. After a few minutes it converted in to unbearable head ache. Damn these elders… why do they do things like that and make me feel inadequate???

I took a resolution not to get fascinated by smoking let alone try it even for kicks.

Then I watched in movie with my mouth gaped… the villains sipping alcohol. Now that’s something my teacher always preached against. They tried to inject mortal fear in to my young heart that I would go to the perpetual fires of hell if at all I get drunk. Yikes… no way I am gonna get burnt in fires of hell. But then again I was dumb stuck at the courage of these movie villains who seem not to pay any attention towards their prospects of going to hell and get burnt. My rebellious head started confronting my obedient heart. If alcohol is bad, why is it there in the fist place? And I tried loitering those places where I was told alcohol would be served. Yikes again. First thing first they are too scary with people going in side secretively and coming out brazenly with glazy look like eyes. And a few of them even made me feel disgusted by puking and sleeping in semi comatose stage.

Then I heard about people taking resolution about leaving alcohol. Now this is a greater paradox to me. How could I possibly take such resolution with out becoming a devotee to alcohol? And if I were devoted to something then how could I reject it? Why is life so complicated? But then again when I heard the cost of an alcohol bottle my eyes rolled with their sockets. That’s five times more than the allowance dad used to give me in my teens. Forget it…

Then I thought of taking a resolution of jogging in the morning not really knowing how it would help. It’s so interesting to see people admire those who jog early morning. With a precise and religious devotion I used to set an alarm and wake up with spring in my feet to jog… or rather run along with like minded friends till our tiny lungs burst. It went well for a few days. Then winter came. It was too difficult to get out of the hug of that thick seductive woolen blanket in teeth chattering hours. I hated myself for taking such a torturous resolution.

Nah… let me revoke this jogging resolution.

Now what???

Exercise… to build Adonis kind of muscles. Awe come on… the first day exercise left me with muscle cramps and sour body. Then I told my self that I walk a lot and that’s the greatest exercise at the end of the day. To compound my self proclaimed wisdom, some magazine said that walking burns calories. Hence I am totally convinced that I am exercising a lot. Ironically yet… I am not getting blessed with chiseled contours on my body….

Than I found the best resolution…

To never to take any resolution in life…

Since then I am very happy and no new year’s arrival effects me much…

How about you guys??? Did you take any New Year resolutions???