Dass

 I feel like I am cheating life. Or death. Take your pick. One, because I write this as my message to all those who care enough to read this after I am gone. Yup, I mean finito, death or the end of the person that's me. Frankly I had everything ready in my mind - what I wanted to say, but now I am blank. Like I will be when I am dead. Let me try anyway - try to rummage in my mind on what I wanted to say... For one - Don't U dare cry because I am dead: Laugh, chuckle, smile, for I have lived. No regrets there I lived. Sorry for hurting some of U. (why should I be capitals and U in small?) Happy to have reached or crossed the 50's still sane though it took three more years... nah four when nirvana hit me softly. Life is this much only and nothing more. Money matters but not so much that it makes your life revolve around it. Nothing matters. Life does. Living does. Living for others... That is the cheat code. Don't worry.  If you have a problem solve it. Don't think ab...

 I have been a Christian for the last 54 years. Now I am better. I find the Bhagavad Gita very illuminating/ But that does not make me a Hindu. I have only one basic tenet. Be good and do good. That's all you need to be a good human being.

You will never know it but that's because you never think about it. The months from September to December are based on numbers. In Latin. And you will be  flabbergasted that Septem actually means seven. Seven (7) but ninth in the calendar. The same goes for October.... But we have to thank the Roman Emperors for the Names. But some folks decided that we should stick to numbers. July and August we know the emperors after whom they were so named. (Quintilis and Sextilis was the former names!) But, why was March the beginning of the  year? Well, seems like the start of war campaigns as also harvesting time? All months were lunar before we adopted the solar calendar. (The moon was closer!) January was named after a god. Could be Brahma of the Hindus because he had more than one face. I cannot think of why February was named...but little bit of searching and voila... Februa means to cleanse, and the Romans who were  turning to Christianity had the perfect reason for Lent. Marc...

 We are the sum of all we meet, hear and speak. No wonder.

 That's the funny thing about time-capsule. It is dated one day and written on another. But I let it be (I am actually writing on 1st of September) Now let's see 1. The muezzin is calling out to the faithful. It is 5 PM now. 2. The TV channels are  still at Sushant Singh Rajput's case. Especially Republic Channel, headed by the irresistible Arnab Goswami. He is turning heads. Mine is going nuts. 3. Pranab Mukherjee (Da) ex-president of India died yesterday. 4. The JEET-NIT exams were held today. Against much protests. 5. One of the pets that has been sick was taken to the Vet and given a shot. Hopefully he will be fine. 6. I called up an old friend and it made me happy to connect to him. Life is funny. Some more when the time is right.

 I woke up to a feline shriek. For a moment - a second or so - I pondered and then I was up from my bed and out of the room. I spotted the kittens. Three of them. I wondered where the fourth one was. Probably had gone to my room. I poured out some food for the three all the time calling the fourth one. By now it should have come out. I opened the main door and there it lay, dead. Probably mauled by a marauding cat from the neighbourhood. I felt guilty. The kitten had been out all night because of my stupidity. It was dead because of me. I was perplexed as to what my feelings should be. Sadness? Or just, it happened...move on! It is not your fault. First time is a mistake. It was a mistake. A life-taking mistake. Stupid if I do it again. Meanwhile what do I tell me sister.  Lie that it had just died or that it was my mistake.  I don't know what was right but I told her the truth. The kitten died because of me. (And then by the end of the day it flashed to me perhaps, perha...

It's presumptive of me to call them the greatest writers, but to me they are and very likely to many others too. Quite frankly they are my favourite writer but the greatest... oh well everybody has their list. But mine has not changed for the last 40 years. P G Wodehouse is classically the best of the humourous writers ever. His Jeeves is a synonym for butlers, Intelligent butlers. And there is Wooster and Lord Emsworth. Oh, the characters are finely etched and each one leaves behind an impression. Be it Psmith or  Cutbert in his short stories. I guffaw loudly every time I remember his characters and scenes. Sometimes it is just a smile - as I write this, I am smiling. He is the ultimate in humourous English writing. And he put it himself very devilishly in one of his short stories where a visiting Russian writer names another Russian author and P G Wodehouse as the best.  Then there is Joseph Heller. Catch 22 made little sense but then I had to read it many more times before ...