Lifeoholic’s memoirs..

Our ability to emote is a variable widget in our lives. It’s preinstalled but comes in to use depending upon the circumstances and the kind of people we are surrounded by. I, conspicuously and by finesse of nature, am not an emotional creature. But, moments of poignancy does take its toll. When it did evolve this week, I was stranded precariously. And to my fluid pride, my battle with human relationships continues to amaze me.

I believe, places have souls. Cities breath a different aura of tenacity and I get myself constantly sucked in to it’s culture. The same feeling waved along as my third visit to the Charminar city plunges in to some fine moments of my life.

I am not a person who solemnises ceremonies. I conduct myself to the highest order, when confronted with one though. And this time, my presence was a prerogative as I watched my little angel getting in to a holy movement of quick distress and vital fulfilment. I wasn’t very me as the usual phonetics embedded within me gave away to the little one’s grimaces. All well, alright, but for me, it was a resident feeling. Never do I let myself in for such occasions but this one invited itself for a rare celebration and my obligation was customary.

I felt like adulthood was basking itself in such organic gestures and once more, I salute the DNAs for drafting what’s inherent of myself. Being so very human.

When humans are mortals..

I realise that despite our all conquering attitude and pervasive capabilities, we, as human beings, are susceptible at different strata of our lives. And life, to our utmost savouries, ceases to relinquish the mightiest of all.

Nuances and subjugations of life have been my greatest teacher, and undeniably, the force behind the man I am. Eminently, it would probably be true for each one of you. The more I see events scraping past us with a reverent sense of elation and grief, the more convinced I am about the forecast management of our lives. Honestly, such a phenomenon doesn’t exist. And even if it does, it’s invisible proportions are too stark for the minuscule yet powerful inhibitions of man to gauge and propel.

The invincible has its own contagious flaws, the champion is still prone to relinquish his dominance during his lifetime, an angel might still be required to stall it’s existence within the realms of heaven and the richest might not always relish the sojourn of quantum wealth.

I am not the one to travel down the ire and feed myself to anonymity, but at times, I wish to remain candid about my own credentials.

Seldom, but intended with famished hearts of courageous perils.

Turbulence could be a boon..


Beware, I am not talking about broken hearts here. Neither am I redundant enough to talk about those acquaintances that never cease to exist. Probably, trying to venture out on those moments when you feel that ‘not working out’ is a blessing in disguise.

I believe in relationships that selflessly caress through it’s rugged path to establish trust and bonding. At times, probably, it doesn’t work. Better said, we as human beings, are prone to get insecure every now and then. In a quest to make things work and get everything arranged in a package of unheard perfection, we miss out on those little thing things in life, that predominantly make things work. Alas, no wonder, our relationships get thicker with dormant energy.

Some relationships are better foregone. Cats and dogs, Osama and Bush, India and Pakistan, Mahatma and Jinnah, Australia and England. I realise the ones listed are honest protagonists as well but we cannot ignore the audacity of those characters in terms of a bilingual and monopolistic attention.

Let’s not derive solutions of out of this extract. My works tend to become courageously naive and distinguished at times. But honestly, we all need to work towards building our relationships towards a positive future.

Life’s anonymous ways..

The past few days of my life has been spent in an advent of crucial veracity; and a feeling within that says that you might be the blessed one with all the ingredients of a perfect plateau. There isn’t one, but I might be the closest to it.


A brilliant Saturday afternoon coupled with eternal memories shared amongst my school inmates did emit more than just the syndrome of nostalgic aberration. The sea beaches in Digha meant that my ride in the mysterious and elated circumstances would come to an end soon. Humans are a bundle of the 3 Es: Ego, Expectation and Ecstasy. Those convulsions are contagious and tend to remain within you lest you try to (rather you do!) segment them in acceptable packages.

And, not to forget, relationships have always bothered me, for good. Few continue to stun me with their sumptuous affection and sometimes wonder to believe that most of our precious adversaries would never be your own unless their ass is below the nutshell and require intervention to break open.

Fine moments get etched as diamonds but significantly, allows you the courageous bandwidth to sustain such magical intercourse.

Similar to those gigantic arms of the picturesque ‘Vidhyasagar Setu’, we are occupied in designed packages of corrigible quantities: the greatest of powers besieged collide, reverberate and retreat to marry successful sojourns.

De-biographically, evolution has been enchanting!

A submissive kid used to be once quite and submerged in self confessed union. He was, reluctantly part of a regular ‘pada’ football match and was oblivious of the concurrent events that was going to change his life. He caught hold of the pervasive ball like ‘Eknath Solkar’ but to his dismay, he was ridiculed to eternity and was unceremoniously rejected out if this entire proposition of playing with pros. He left, sobbing and humiliated.

Few weeks down the line and out of sheer sympathy and pity of discarding a child from being exposed to hopeless opportunities, he was called back and emphatically offered the role of a goal keeper. The amateur failed but showed promise. A year and two frisks past and shockingly in the same fraternity, a soccer game never commenced without the champion player who once sulked in to ominous ignominy of not understanding the crucial chapters of the great game. Gloriously, locals touted him as the little ‘Maradona’. Exaggerated but defines relentlessness and capacity to emerge for contention.

Time moved on, but childhood and adolescence did not prevail adulthood in a day and testimony exuded. The little boy was caught guilty of lying about his gorgeous scorecards that seldom reached dad’s stable and fathers usually hate liars! A corrigible and raunchy hit ruined his self esteem and shattered his nullified aspirations. Yet, that was to become his most important lesson as a relegated student and a bewildered teenager. The fruits, however, are now being reaped with acceptable pride and humility.

Sounds like obvious and known trivia? Subsequent and tranquil episodes to follow suit.

People, Kindly Spare Some Time to Read This Email. Let’s Help this Person (Strictly NOT in Financial Terms).

From: brigadier. ptgangadharan <>

Date: Wed, Dec 31, 2008 at 1:35 PM
Subject: PLEASE HELP!!
To: “R/ Adm. Sanjiv Kapoor , Delhi” <>

Hello friends,

I have a very noble cause behind sending this mail to all of you.Please spare some time to read through it.
I met a guy named Mr. Ravi Shankar on the train when I was returning from chennai on 26th of December, 2008. I was having a regular chat with him regarding the Army and its rules and regulations and how the forces are admired in our country.
He then told me about a shocking tragedy that his family went through and hence I write this mail to you seeking your help.
He told me that he was posted in CAR-NICOBAR in the year 2004 as a seargent in the INDIAN AIR-FORCE. On 26th of december that year his family fell victim to the Unfortunate Tsunami that struck out eastern coast.He along with his wife and two children(photo attached) were washed in the deadly waters.Reaching out his wife managed to cling onto a tree but his small son(picture insight on the left)had swallowed too much water and passed away in her arms.
Ravi also in desperation to swim lost grip of his daughter’s(APURVA) hand. She was washed away and was never to be found again,until one day they came to know of her being sighted at a relief camp. On contacting the authorities they came to know that this little girl was abducted from the relief camp and was missing again. Since then Mr. Ravi shankar has been travelling to chennai every year with a hope to see his daughter.
He has been publishing MISSING columns in major daily’s in chennai,and he showed me how heavily these newspapers had a charged him for a those ad’s. One of the major newspapers charged him a whooping amount of 12000 rupees for a 4 X 4 cm ad(that too on the fourth page). Please do not consider this mail a regular chain mail and do care to forward this to your near and dear ones. He requested me to do something to reach out to people who use e- media (internet etc.).I myself have posted her picture on my blog and i request people who own there personal blog pages to post this girl’s picture there as it could be of significant help. In case any news of any nature is found regarding her (APURVA) please drop in a mail at the below mentioned mail id’s or the following address. Attached picture is APURVA’s picture taken in year 2004 with her younger brother.

Kindly forward this to as many contacts as you can.

1. James mathew(
2. Amit kumar ( )
3. khem chandra pan ( )

Or contact:
SMQ – 17/2
NEW DELHI-110062
Phone no – 09868763263