Hey! Been sometime eh? Well, this time around, its not so much about updates. :)
Life. In all its glory, life is simply so overwhelming. Don’t you think so? Of the wondrous people it brings to us, of the miraculous events that shape our lives. Mine is no different. Am sorry, that was random rambling :)

Blogger's dilema. I’ve been trying to coax many of my blogger friends to write- all of us suffer from what I choose to call a collective writers’ block! :P Hehe. And I decided, the best would be for me to write something myself so I wont feel so out place when I ask them :) And I’ll share with you some random trivia- This is the third time I’m attempting to write a blog post in the last week! You can now imagine how much I wanted to come back! :)




Of late, I have had the luxury to ponder upon a lot of random things. I spent some time pondering about how listening helps heal invisible wounds. There are some wounds in the world that medicine can heal. But there many more that medicine cannot that probably time can.

They say time is a good healer. That is true but time is known to take her sweet course. I have discovered in my short life of 24 odd years that there is a magical healing quality in listening. Yes, you read it right. Listening.

When you are down and beaten or when you hurt in conscience or heart, no medicine makes any difference. But a patient ear can work miracles in such times. Pills can give you energy and heal cuts and burns. But when you are guilty or sad or hurting and want to talk to a living soul about how you feel, what can modern medicine do?



A friend in need is a friend indeed! But needs are not always monetary or tangible things. Friends need not even be solution providers. A friend is he who listens and offers a shoulder to lean on for support. If you have a listener friend, you are indeed blessed! :) And I’ve been really lucky in that department. Thank you- to all concerned :)

Remembering and gratitude. Its one of those days again… I’m in my usual corner, next to the window. It’s a sunny afternoon, in the otherwise cold November. I am listening to some songs… those of the birds and the bees…

As is now a tradition, I walk down the proverbial memory lane. The events that shaped my life, the years that have held a special place in my heart, the movies that made a difference to me, the books that contributed in making me, the places I have been to, the birthdays I have celebrated- all of them, I walk past without stopping by to look at. I finally reach that unnamed territory that invades everybody’s mind and space at times when they least expect it. This abyss of space tells me my saddest times, happiest times, the most exciting times, the most cherished moments… It holds every emotion I have displayed in my young (long!) life of 24 odd years.

I learn, standing here all alone in this deserted place, that I have always been with plenty of people when I am happy. It brings a smile to me now. I also see that during my saddest of times, I was never alone. Hold on a minute… who is that who’s lending me her shoulder to cry on? I’m astonished as she turns around and smiles at me. I recognise her. She’s the first friend I made in the fourth grade. Oh my dear God, please let me remember her name…! I stare at her without smiling back as I see myself weak and hurt, clinging on to this caring soul… and I still cant remember her name or anything about her!



I felt ashamed and stricken to stand there and stare back at a friend who’s been there for me when I was in need but I dint remember the help or the events preceding it. I should have simply died then. The worst thing in the world, according to me, is to not remember a friend’s help in need. I made to run away when something caught my mind again. I was running across the road and an elderly woman pulled me to a side suddenly. I was going to be hit by a truck. That woman actually saved my life… Did I even thank her? I don’t remember. I come back to now.

Of bottling and re-living. I’ve allowed myself some wishful thinking. I wish there were bottles that can hold liquid memory, much like Albus Dumbledore’s Pensieve.




I could choose to go back to any of them as and when the fancy strikes me. I can even choose to share some of them with others and be sure my memory is not failing me or making impulsive and biased changes to the original scene. For now I know, everytime I narrate the same incident to different people, it sounds slightly different from the last time… even to me! I want a pensieve. Period. Ah, wishful thinking!
This time around, it has really been random musings, eh? Well, thank you for reading anyway :) A couple of my blogger friends have been real inspirers! Thank you ! :)

Until next time then.. take care and try building a pensieve for me :) Cheers!