NavDharmyug

Courtesy: Getty Images It was Christmas night. It was a day of exuberance, of joy, of resurrection of faith. Happy delightful lights filled up the darkest crevices of night. The sounds of kids playing, the melody of sweet laughter, the Christmas carols running in looped consistency swallowed the dark sadness of a cold, December night. The air was full of warmth of close embraces which floated away, melting the freezing air. Beautiful people, dressed in lovely clothes, kids overdressed, men impeccably dressed, and women scantily dressed, wandered around in the air-conditioned interiors of the mall, trying hard not to bump into one another. Rameshwar felt tired. His eyes waded through the crowd to the opposite corner of the Atrium where some good looking and rich-looking women had set up stalls selling cakes and other things to eat. He had been there during the afternoon and the upturned brows of the exquisite ladies setting up those stalls and the prices mentioned made him qui...

I have been a child. I have been an only child. I have been through a major part of my life believing, it doesn’t matter. Loneliness is not a function of number of people in your life. It is a matter of attitude . So I have been telling myself all those years. I would sleep through the summer afternoons as a child, waiting for the evening to descend . I would read magazines and little Pocket-books much to annoyance of parents through the days, haunted by loneliness. I would tell myself, brotherhood or brotherly love is something that can be won over by kindness, charm and what not. I would learn later that you cannot argue with nature. I, in later life, took to writing. Sometimes I wonder why? When my health suffered, I was to take to some physical exercise. I tried gyms, but with absence higher than the attendance, gave up. Then I took up long distance running and it stayed. Why? What is the common theme between writing and running and why it links to my own solitary...

I am not a writer. Well, at least not in the strict sense of the word. I do not have a room with a door which I would happily be willing to shut (to quote from Stephen King, who wrote, well, On writing, a pre-condition to be a writer is to "Have a room with a door and be willing to shut it) ; My books are not largely read, though I do compete strongly with Schopenhauer's first book which sold thirty two copies in all. My writings does not pay my bills and I do not have publishers lining up my door with Multi-million dollars contract. I have never been a banker, in this life or other, to make the matter worse, I have been spectacularly mediocre in Finance subjects in my Masters. But I write. I started writing long time ago when I was a child, and just as Maugham, I took to writing as a duck takes to swimming. I wrote as a matter of necessity. I would think a lot about things which are as per adult advise are better left alone. I would mostly have more questions than an...