My Pensieve

A couple of days back I heard my boss say something about a biro (by-roh). Unsure of what she was referring to, I looked it up - and found google search results showing some ball-point pens from a company called bic, available readily on Amazon. I dismissed my search soon thereafter, a bit let down by it being just a ball-point pen and not something fancier that I had hoped it would be! As it turns out, I had dismissed the biro too soon. Today, Google commemorated Ladislao José Biro's 117th birthday through a doodle. He is the inventor of the biro or the ball-point pen as it was hitherto known to me. Upon clicking the doodle to find out more about him, I came across the name László József Bíró - which I immediately recognised as a Hungarian name. José, on the other hand, was a very Spanish name. Intrigued by this duality in names, I continued reading the articles that came up in the search results. László József Bíró was indeed a Jewish Hungarian who had had to flee from H

What is the turning point of one's profession? When we start loving it, knowingly or when it starts to creep into the everyday life, the routine, unknowingly?! The knowledge is still elusive. Until then, the former cannot be affirmatively admitted. But the unknown has always been intriguing! The inadvertent, unknown latter definitely means something! I wonder whether the traits of quick disposal and early consumption have got anything to do with being a lawyer [a Corporate lawyer not the litigating one ;)] or is it just a co-incidence?! While the lawyer in me (I'd rather attribute it to that  than to any other compulsiveness!) would rather treat the household grocery stocks like Company cases, to be disposed off quickly and to not be bought in bulk, I see a clear contrast in an engineer friend working in the Commercial (Purchase / Contracts) Department, who believes in building inventory!! While the lawyer flinches at new cases being filed (either by / against the Comp

Yes I made fun of it. I laughed when the call waiting of M.P. phones would alternatively inform, "जे नंबर माँ फोन लगाये हवो ओहा कौनो दूसरा नंबर माँ व्यस्त होवे . कृपया इंतज़ार करो अथवा थोडकिन देर बाद कोशिश करो ". I would also laugh at the prerecorded message asking me, "छत्तीसगढ़ी माँ सुनने हेतु पांच दबावा " Little did I know that destiny had decided to send me here, in Chhattisgarh. I disliked the place on day one, and two, and three and some more days. But eventually, I came to terms with it. And I shall reveal right here, that I started liking it soon :) I like it for the torrential rains, a phenomena never witnessed in Delhi. Bhopal still had more of rains. But not comparable. I like it for the scooty experience I never had earlier. Cars in Delhi. Autos in Bhopal. Unfortunately, I did not have a "friend with benefit [of a bike]". I like it for the freedom I got. Too young in school. Too restricted in college. Restricted by self. By society. I

No this is not a dear diary declaration. But since I am the most ardent reader of my own blog, it is only right to write to myself :p Note to self #1: Hobby is 'supposed' to be an ongoing, continuing activity. To be bettered, improved, improvised every time it is undertaken during the leisure hour. It need not necessarily have to be completed in a stipulated time!

Amidst the unfortunate incident of death due to brutal gang rape of a young girl in Delhi, I am left to wonder that though निर्भया is no more, the भय very much remains. Though दामिनी is no more, the demons are still out at large. Not just in Delhi but almost everywhere. I am not even venturing on the futile naming of the girl by the media or her being referred to as "India's daughter", "Braveheart" etc. I am sure, had she had her way, she would rather have lived a life in fear than die fearless. She would rather have been a coward than become a braveheart. And she'd rather live  as her parents' daughter than die as India's daughter. The connected issues which have been once again brought to light by this unfortunate incident like "lack of safety and safe environment for women in India", "sick mentality of a section of men", "need for stricter laws" etc. are already being pondered over by the nation. What I am conce

From the perfections of one book to the travails of another to the imperfections of yet other.. Her story was not over yet, she felt. She wanted to read another book she'd not read, yet. Someone had told her, when she was still a seven year old, "Look for the signs, girl". Since then, she searched and searched all around her, and tried with all her mind to catch them signs. She deduced and inferred a few good omens in her life. One of them being, her life is the book she's reading. She'd seen it being true, a few times too often.. Barely a year into the working world, at twenty-four, she was wondering, whether she ought to find a new book, the right book, the right story or just the right character. Meant to be, is it or not yet or never - was the question she was looking for an answer to, in a million dollar signed copy or a second-hand book. Signs, after all, could be just any-which-where. Who could say she was a lawyer? A lawyer with answers to quest

Are 'I' and 'myself'  inseparable? Are they simply grammatical forms of the same person? Are they inter-changeable? A big NO is the answer to all the above questions. When invited for a party, I can decide to go alone. Or, I  can take along with me, my companion, myself . When I try to explain this concept to a privileged few, they ask, "How on earth can you go anywhere without yourself?" Well, if I am going out of compulsion and am not enjoying at that party, I have definitely left myself  behind. Simply put,  I and myself are twin souls that have polar moods. They are extremely moody and lead 'me'  into extreme choices. Of late, 'my'  most important task has been to keep them together! This is so because 'I'  have figured that the best company for 'me'  is none other than 'myself'  !! I am happiest doing something only when both I and myself  are together... To have a perfect Sunday, all that is required is I

If you want a living first-hand experience of the real-life depiction of your obituary, hand in that resignation letter with a month's notice, or live that last month of your soon-to-end-college life!! In the end, everyone is supremely nice, they will find ways to remind you of how you have been good to them, what is that thing in your personality that makes you lovable :) This is the good part. The bad part is that why didn't all those people realize these very things a few years back. If only they'd realized the goodness in us, maybe those past years would have been more beautiful..

The most bizarre thought but worth a thought nonetheless - I guess the biggest cure of old age and boredom is to sit at the railway station with a companion (hopefully) and observe people leaving and arriving. Railway station is really the most interesting place to see all the frenzy of emotions :)