Long time no see.

desire has left my door, and to hope i have long waved goodbye


I don’t feel like blogging under the title of the blog(My Perpetual Pursuit) anymore. I think its too demanding. The whole journey on the life thing is intimidating me. I was, back then when choosing a title for this blog, very high in spirits. As the time went on I think that energy just draft away as much of my other endeavors in life, fuss went all the air.

Would I be betraying with this blog and myself if I just ditch it down here. I would be too cruel, eh?  I stand guilty here.

Blogging is about summarily to write and comment about what one is interested in. I come across my interesting things I would like to share here and comment upon, but its just my handsome trait of procastinating and lack of motivation that fails me every time, now and then.

A Day in March at Delhi

I really don’t understand the weather of Delhi. Its quite unpredictable and contradictory these days, like the city itself, as far as my personal experience goes. For a week, the Sun has been on a hide and seek spree among the clouds which have showered intermittently in their own mood. Western disturbances, the weather man says.

Careless winds blowing across my room making an intruding entry through a couple of windows lay open for daylight to enter. Curtains abiding by the each gust of wind meekly lifting up to make passage. And a beam of light gushes inside for that moment. The temperature is 20°C ish something. A lovely weather to hang out.  🙂

ps. Gonna be more regular in posting here. I post here when i ‘think’, else I am just wasting my days involved in meaningless shitty things, killing time.

And just a lesson to self. No matter how shitty situation you are in never never never… give up.

Music bite: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FKi125iqnFg 😉

lol.. post script is going to over run the main post.  Thats it.

I’ll wake up tomorrow

For past some years I have been more of a nocturnal animal. Beating this routine of life has been a real downer for me, particularly due to my habit of been distracted(or attracted) to stuff. I hate internet, a chain of distractions. I know I have to sleep, I know that I have already wasted much of time today, but every five minutes I will look at the clock and give me more five minutes to cut the crap and so on I continue. The alarm is set but it has also to be adjusted along. As the time time goes on and the night reaches dawn at a particular time when I am only able to get a couple of hours to sleep, I finally force myself close my eyes to sleep. And it would be no surprise when I won’t be able to get up when the alarm goes off, the intensity of my sleep is so much that sometimes I don’t even know myself that I turned off the alarm or incase muted down the volume.

All this process is of lying with oneself or being too hopeful, excessively optimistic.

gave up

gave up smoking.. so technically, I am saving 70 minutes of my life per day. 😀 :(((


two options.

“either to be despondent and go just the way failure have tripped me down but the other option was then to stand up and face the challenge I had and infact change this hurdle into a moment of opportunity for myself.”


Days are all counted, as death waits in our ignorance at the end of the tunnel. Some may say to make merry because as it stands inevitable. But closing the eyes from it doesn’t makes a world better place, on the other hands it makes us waste the precious time, some may despise life as a mindless race. Years pass by and times run out, centuries have gone and in a moment some more moved on. Wouldn’t it be enlightening if we rinse of ignorance, pain has to be borne because dawn marks the darkest night always and will. Knowing and discovering each day, and in every now and then, what I am.

Something on appreciation.

This is a powerful message in our modern society. We seemed to have lost our bearing & our sense of direction.

One young academically excellent person went to apply for a managerial position in a big company.

He passed the first interview, the director did the last interview, made the last decision.

The director discovered from the CV that the youth’s academic achievements were excellent all the way, from the secondary school until the postgraduate research, never had a year when he did not score.

The director asked, “Did you obtain any scholarships in school?” the youth answered “none”.

The director asked, ” Was it your father who paid for your school fees?” The youth answered, “My father passed away when I was one year old, it was my mother who paid for my school fees.

The director asked, ” Where did your mother work?” The youth answered, “My mother worked as clothes cleaner. The director requested the youth to show his hands. The youth showed a pair of hands that were smooth and perfect.

The director asked, ” Have you ever helped your mother wash the clothes before?” The youth answered, “Never, my mother always wanted me to study and read more books. Furthermore, my mother can wash clothes faster than me.

The director said, “I have a request. When you go back today, go and clean your mother’s hands, and then see me tomorrow morning.*

The youth felt that his chance of landing the job was high. When he went back, he happily requested his mother to let him clean her hands. His mother felt strange, happy but with mixed feelings, she showed her hands to the kid.

The youth cleaned his mother’s hands slowly. His tear fell as he did that. It was the first time he noticed that his mother’s hands were so wrinkled, and there were so many bruises in her hands. Some bruises were so painful that his mother shivered when they were cleaned with water.

This was the first time the youth realized that it was this pair of hands that washed the clothes everyday to enable him to pay the school fee. The bruises in the mother’s hands were the price that the mother had to pay for his graduation, academic excellence and his future.

After finishing the cleaning of his mother hands, the youth quietly washed all the remaining clothes for his mother.

That night, mother and son talked for a very long time.

Next morning, the youth went to the director’s office.

The Director noticed the tears in the youth’s eyes, asked: ” Can you tell me what have you done and learned yesterday in your house?”

The youth answered, ” I cleaned my mother’s hand, and also finished cleaning all the remaining clothes’

The Director asked, ” please tell me your feelings.”

The youth said, Number 1, I know now what is appreciation. Without my mother, there would not the successful me today. Number 2, by working together and helping my mother, only I now realize how difficult and tough it is to get something done. Number 3, I have come to appreciate the importance and value of family relationship.

The director said, ” This is what I am looking for to be my manager.
I want to recruit a person who can appreciate the help of others, a person who knows the sufferings of others to get things done, and a person who would not put money as his only goal in life. You are hired.

Later on, this young person worked very hard, and received the respect of his subordinates. Every employee worked diligently and as a team. The company’s performance improved tremendously.

A child, who has been protected and habitually given whatever he wanted, would develop “entitlement mentality” and would always put himself first. He would be ignorant of his parent’s efforts. When he starts work, he assumes that every person must listen to him, and when he becomes a manager, he would never know the sufferings of his employees and would always blame others. For this kind of people, who may be good academically, may be successful for a while, but eventually would not feel sense of achievement. He will grumble and be full of hatred and fight for more. If we are this kind of protective parents, are we really showing love or are we destroying the kid instead?*

You can let your kid live in a big house, eat a good meal, learn piano, watch a big screen TV. But when you are cutting grass, please let them experience it. After a meal, let them wash their plates and bowls together with their brothers and sisters. It is not because you do not have money to hire a maid, but it is because you want to love them in a right way. You want them to understand, no matter how rich their parents are, one day their hair will grow gray, same as the mother of that young person. The most important thing is your kid learns how to appreciate the effort and experience the difficulty and learns the ability to work with others to get things done.


Found this piece in an email forwarded to me, usually I just trash such emails instantly but this one caught my eyes. The crux of the piece, something we can all relate to.

English, August resting on my damn old laptop.

Later in the evening, in unsettling flashes, Baba Ramanna’s achievement had seemed inhuman, almost monstrous; as Agastya stared at the fields and orchards, and the two wells, phoenixes that the Baba had helped to rise in triumph out of barrennesss, he felt a little sick – at the immensity of a human ambition, but also at its nobility and virtue, at the limitlessness of the potential of human endeavour, but also the infinite patience and craft required to bring the endeavour to fruition.

Reading English, August

Yesterday eve, while returning back home I persuaded myself to have a look at the second hand book market that is set up just opposite the road each sunday, but haven’t been to since I moved here.
I was late, it was five and the vendors were wrapping up their spread, stacking the used books neatly into cartons.

Combing aimlessly at the heaps of some relatively new and others badly tattered books, I came across English, August(An Indian Story, Upamanyu Chatterjee); one I was longing to read for sometime. Besides that, I mindlessly bought a book for vocab practice(I will use it, really?). There were many others titles I fancied to read, but exercised restrain, financial excursions. Though I managed not to get a good deal for the couple of books I bought. I suck, at bargaining.

On the copy of English, August the name of previous owner was written in an artistic scribble dated 10/10/95. It gives a good feeling to wonder in which context and manner how the previous owner read the book. And in future if it comes down to someone else how they will look at it.

Expended my day reading the English, August, till now I have got past only 60 pages only, it has 288.

Now I am aching to see the movie based on this novel by same name.