A life that never did.

He was a normal man. But can a man be normal? Tapas worked in a 9 to 6 job. He wasn't best at it. He knew that. He did not love his job. He knew not what he loved. At an age of 30, he had realized life was not going the way it was supposed to. He knew better things were possible. He knew he could do better. But better at what he knew not. Trouble was not that he didn't think, trouble was he did too much of it.

Tapas loved books. He devoured them. He felt them. He hated the new age Indian post MBA authors. He hated Chetan Bhagat. He hated chick-lit. Books were capable of so much greater. He had read so much better books. He loathed anyone who said they liked these books. He preferred the classics and not necessarily aged books. He wanted to be moved, to be stripped off his defenses, to be reduced to tears. He had cried while reading books. He had cried to Devdas, to Jude the Obscure, to The Last Burden. He hadn't cried though when his grand mother had passed away. He liked her but tears never gushed from their springs then. Stripped of that solace, of that belief in one's own humaneness, he was a shadow of devil. Lurking but not shamed. What sadness is the life of a flower that blooms only once in it's lifetime, but then there are lives that never do.

Every good story is essentially a sad one. Everyone dies, in the end. Of late he had been reading Crime and Punishment. If Rashkolnikov, could do it, so could he. All he needed was the perfect subject, the perfect murder victim. He wanted to kill someone, to know he had the strength to do it, to know he could take live or forgive. For isn't the power over someone Else's life the greatest power. To know the swift movement of one's hand could end a life's story. To know one could undo the great creation of God. He wanted to not just script but perform the greatest crime. The untraceable murderer, the unmotivated murder.

Dear World, I hate you.

Half the articles in this book will be love stories. Boy meets girl, falls in love. Hearts break.

Is it just the hilly views of our tiny frontier or is that all that our minds fathom at this age? Sun will shine, so shall the moon. You’ll write and be forgotten soon. I hate love stories. I hate those who write love stories. I hate the stupid smiles. I hate the cheesy dimples. Yes, god-damn it, I hate them. Yes, I have taken the God’s name in vain. But isn’t He vain. Giving us life at his will and taking it away similarly. Either you don’t give it or if you have given it don’t just take it away when you deem fit. So much for the ultimate freedom of human choice, all just liberal-atheist propaganda. There’s no ultimate freedom, you weren’t born by your own choice, and there cannot be ultimate freedom. You will read this, you will toss it away. You might not read this, you will toss it away.

Nothingness has an artistic beauty that no thing can ever obtain. Hence, I wish to write nothing worthwhile here. Maybe it will add some beauty to this mushy creature. Maybe it will be tossed outside by the editor, for who wants to read nonsensical articles now. I do. There are too many sensibilities, latent prejudices, too many do-gooders, to many hard-working people around. Too many wanna be messiahs-if-i-had-the-time people now. Be bad, be nice, be human. Be whatever you are. Or rather please don’t be what you are, ‘coz you might just end up being the prick of the classroom.

I hate you. I hate myself too if that is any consolation. I hate the concept of the all devouring rain or the all destroying heat. I hate having to wake up in the morning. I hate waking up late feeling lazy. This isn’t a hate mail. It’s a love letter to all you self-condescending goth/emo punks out there. Don’t worry folks you aren’t the only one who hate yourself, I hate you too, now quit whining and get me a glass of scotch on the rocks please.

But sometimes I hate the fact that love is so hard. I hate that hearts break. I hate love matters so much. Do away with it. Love is not the way. Love is the by-lane that leads to nowhere. People fall in love and rise out of it. But everyone does fall in love. The silent guy in the end corner seat has too. That cheerful ugly girl has blushed at glances too. They too think people are thinking of them. Ah, load of non sense.

Yes it’s getting a tad too long. If you wish to stop reading, do so now, rest of it is as empty as the above. Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe this is the foundation stone to the greatest story ever told. Hang on Shakespeare in me is yet to wake up from his alcohol induced slumber. Naah, chuck it. He ain’t waking up any time soon. Leave it now. Turn the page. That’s it. Nothing more here now. Bugger off.

Run Smith Run

Do you want to know how this ends? Do you want to know what the F*** is going on? I'll tell ya sonny, I'll tell ya well good, how this goes down...

A truck rolled up the avenue. Nothing unusual about it, except that this was a a truck rolling up a regular avenue. It slowly came to a stop in front of Smith's house. Birds had been awakened as had been Smith. "Holy shit! a truck? The whole bloody truck?" The money bag flew out of the upper cupboard and in to the socks went the Smith & Wesson M&P9 pistol. This was the back up one. When in trouble, have a back up. Latter was what Smith hadn't planned for. He had not planned that today would happen. It was supposed to be a clean sweep. The whole gang had been blown up in the explosion in the yard, he had escaped with the dough but then out of the graveyard shift rolls out the good old Truck. Why the truck? How come the whole damn truck? Where were men enough for it?

Doors swung open, both the door of the truck and the back door of the house. As Smith jumped the fence he heard the front door fall and thick soled shoes thumping on it. Idiots, ha, hadn't he told them many a time, always block both the entrance. Thank god, they didn't learn. Thank God, he had a back up car a few yards ahead. He ran like his life depended on it, well it did and he did run pretty fast. The few female joggers smiled at him, where were they when he jogged every morning?

As he took the turn he heard something whizz past him, a look back and there were the cars galloping towards him and people in there firing at him. The cars too? The truck and the cars? What was it the rebirth? The Second Revelation?

When in doubt go left. And left he ran into someone's back garden, jumped his second fence. They couldn't get him. He was the best, that's why the job had been given to him. Run, Lola, Run. It was a beautiful morning, specially the clouds, they had some beautiful shapes. It was a good day to die. It was a good day to live. Ah, spring, the first day of spring. The rye field used to look so cheerful as the rye swayed. Maybe, everything does count a little more than we think.

He had lost the car following him and had found the car that was to be his ride. Silently, he congratulated himself on being so professional. Experience does teach a thing or two. A few seconds more and he will have vroomed out of the newbies' reach. The black Chevrolet shined in it's full glory, bestowing upon it's viewer a sense of pride. He pushed the handle of the car. It wouldn't budge. The bloody keys, those harbinger of sorrow of remorse unknown, in the bloody table drawers. May untold woe and tragedy befall those that remain hidden in their dark corners when needed. Life is a tragedy on repeat loop.

Well then, again, Run Lola Run. Now what? What was the back up to the back up plan?
...
Contd.(Hopefully!)

Pakistan within

Dear Banno,

I still remember, how beautiful you looked when sleeping. Those petite lips contracting into a pretty smile, eyelashes fitting so perfect into each other, the face so peaceful. Of course, I haven't been able to sleep of late, I can't seem to forget the cross-roads near Karim's shop. Hope you remember that's where all of us friends use to hangout together. Ah, the good old days. But then most of my life has been nothing but re-collection of those days in here.

You always asked me what I thought of as I waited near the shop, for you. Why, dear it's you I thought of. I didn't mention it then , I should have. That tiny lane you came from, bordered by open sewers which used to flood during the monsoon,ah, what a stench. Look what I have started doing flowing away with the sewage.

I never said I love you, but then they said it before I could and then I could never mention it, could I? As I waited for you, while near by Ganges rolled on in all its holy majesty, I thought of saying my heart out to you. What happened then? Why am i here and you out there married, i guess, by now?

Pakistan had just been formed, my dear. That eternal damned moth-ridden state and a Pakistan had formed in the village, in all our hearts. The Great divide from which only blood migrated but the souls were left behind. One night a horde of 15 Muslisms came to my house and threatened to kill me if I didn't stop seeing you. How furious I was, how bloated in youthful anger? I promised to chop the head off every damned Muslim who said that but then i remembered your dad had intervened the day before and made the horde go away. The borders had been drawn, the migration was inevitable. But we were in India, this was the secular land, the land of a million religions, of religions people hadn't heard of, of religion people can't talk against. Why then did I have to go?

When I told you of the incident, you asked me to stay, to prove them wrong, to do something brave. Oh, how I wished to turn into the Aurangzeb and chop the heads of the dissidents, of anyone who dared to speak against you. Maybe, you wanted me to run away with you, I can never know. But that evening, when I went back home, my folks were very scared for my life. That same night a bigger horde came in and dared us to show my face so that they could kill me on-the-spot. My parents caring as they were hid me in the basement. They trapped the volcano amongst old boxes. Your dad had again intervened and saved the day. As I came out of my shelter, the lull was contagious. It was decided that I should leave my village. I should go somewhere, to Bombay.

I never said good-bye, did i? It was all so sudden, so out of the blue, but then I had to go for the sake of my parents if nothing else. A hurried suitcase was packed, the same one in which I had stared few hours back seething with rage and now, I stare with growing disappointment in life. With a caravan of 10-15 Hindu uncles and Karim I was sent off in the night local. As is reached station I had vague hope that you would come, your dad must have told you. And you, the unfettered, would break free and be with me. We would run away as you had planned, from this village which was mine but never ours. As the train gave its first puff, I thought I smelt you or maybe it was the banks of Ganges. As I lost the vision of the platform I knew there was to be no more Banno, there was to be no more me.

Mumbai, yes they call it Mumbai now, it has as many rats in its gutters as humans on the roads and equally filthy are both. The first few days were terrible. The nightmares of people pounding on my door, of you drowning in the gutter like Ganges, of you shirking off the news of my absence. But then a man has to eat doesn't he. Ah, life caught up on me and now its only when I am sleeping do i remember my village. I am afraid the only time I will forever be en my village will be in my dreams, the longest dream ever dreamed, in the eternal sleep.

But that's a very sad note to end on for a woman who must have a kid or more by now. Hope you bloom forever and forget me. Hope the star-less sky the engulfs my nights, lay's not a finger on your roof. Hope you do remember me. Hope, the hope never dies.

Falteringly yours,
Karn

Letters

Dear God,

Dear God, my dog died today. Could you please return him to me. You know my mother said, everyone who dies goes to you, so i thought you might have him right now. If you could please send him back, sir. I know it might be some trouble but you know i promise to help you out henceforth. I could... I will be good now onwards. I will do all my homework from now on. I will clean my room. I will not even cry when i am hurt. I will never shout at anyone. I will not make fun of ELijah. I promise God. I know i have not been the best i could have been.

I am a kid sir. I might have made some mistakes but will not anymore. I love him, i love pucho. I will not be angry at him when he wets my face by licking me in the morning. I have no friends other than him. I used to play with him every evening and if he does not want that I will not. I will ...I will do anything you want. I am so sorry...i didn't mean to hurt you or him, if i ever have. Please forgive me.

If you cannot return him, at least pat him for me once. You know he likes playing ball and used to go with me to walks in the garden. Could you please take him to garden once in a while. I know you must have huge beautiful gardens everywhere up there. Or if you could take me up to him. I could come up there to look after him, otherwise he would get lonely. But then mother would cry as she did when grand mother passed away. Please do send Pucho back.

Mommy said you lived in heaven and everyone who dies goes to you. Could your dead postman take this along when he come here next. And i didn't eat that cookie, the servant did, though when i told Mommy so she thought i was lying and scolded me, hope you know that and are not punishing me just for that. I promise not to eat cookie ever again. I am sleepy now, have to go to school tomorrow. Hope you get this letter, Please send pucho back, please,please,please,...

The Sun's Charioteer - 2

"If you dare question my birth, ask it to my strength, to my sun like aura and my armor - earring. Read my history, if you have the capability in my shining persona. If Arjuna is the mighty Kshatriya he claims to be, then let him come forward and prove it to me. I will let you know my glorious clan after I have acquired his bow and arrow from him." Kripacharya answered " You are getting angry for no cause, dear Karn for only a ruler of a kingdom has the right to fight such a mighty Rajputa."

Unable to face the disgrace, an unquiet occupied Karn. Suyodhana rose "It's a sin that you mock him so, a man who glows like a heavenly orb. It is difficult to realize the power of a river, of a warrior for what is a Kshatriya's real test if not his skills? With pious acts do men become great, only cowards forever beseech their fate. Who did not fail to admire when Karn walked ahead, did not a reverend silence fall upon the crowd? Karn may be a charioteer's son, a Sudra but pale in front of him are all the royalties. Is it fair to jibe at such a jewel of the earth, at such a greatness amongst us mere mortals? If u deem him not fit to be brave without a kingdom, let this be heard by all, I bestow over him the kingdom of Angadesha." The spectators went wild as he lifted the crown from his head and placed it upon Karn. He, the poor lad he had always been, unable to cope with this sudden twist in fate fell into Suyodhana's arms. The latter embracing him said " Friend, why do you act so, for such a trivial reason. This gift of kingdom would not matter to me a bit if in return you just give me your hand in friendship." Karn melted with emotions " Oh, to have a friend too. My dear friend, henceforth we shall be one soul in two bodies. The pride you have bestowed upon me, for the first time in my life can I raise my head in this crowd. How will i repay the mighty gift you give me, O friend tell me of what use can i come to you?"

Humanity flooded across these friends, for haven't humans forever lauded courageousness. No matter how you try to pull down a man, the society does recognize true greatness when at hand. Everyone started showering praises on Karn and soon the stadium was full of flowers and saffron. Karn baffled by these praises bowed and the stadium erupted with the chants of " Long Live Angesh(god of Angadesh)! Long live Angesh!" "King Angesh!" Unable to bear this attack to his ego, Bheema said in absence of anything worthwhile "This is the fault of our society, raises anyone to these exalted position. How can a charioteer's son rule a kingdom?" Duryodhana replied "Bheema! You call yourself the righteous yet why do you murmur so, why do you poison your heart such? For how is a man great if he cannot help others, for acts are the true tests of a man not his birth clan. Wasn't Karn correct when he asked you about your father, if you know the mystery do enlighten us so. This fault in society I cannot overlook, this sudden blindness when measuring their own sins." Kripacharya trying to placate the scene, said "Shame, what slanderous talks you are exchanging. Look dusk is upon us, the sun has almost melted, let us retreat to our abodes now."

So walked the crowd singing praises of Karna to their homes. Only Guru Drona, walked separate along with Arjuna "Alas Arjuna, Who is this new contender we have to face now?"

P.S- Karn was born with an armor attached to his upper abdomen and a pair of earrings.

The Sun's Charioteer

Henceforth I will try to paraphrase two pages out of the epic poem 'Rashmirathi' by Ramdhari Singh Dinkar daily. Rashmirathi in Hindi stands for the Sun's Charioteer. Ramdhari Singh Dinkar was hailed as the "Rashtriya kavi' or the national poet. In this poem, the poet has depicted certain scenes out of the great Indian epic, 'Mahabharata', pertaining to Karn. Karn was the illegitimate son of Kunti and the Sun God. Kunti since she was unmarried when she asked for a son as a boon which was fulfilled in the form of Karn, had set her son adrift in the river to prevent her from being condemned by the society.



Salutations to the man who harbors virtues of the eternal fire for No matter where a flower grows it is still heart warming. A wise man is he who does not recognize the differences of birth, great is he who has learned the art of divine charity. The real warrior is one who knows no fear, the real ascetic is one who is alight with the flame of renunciation.

The wise do not gain praise by showing off their high birth but earn the world's praises by showing of their talents. The society might mock those of lower clan but make their mark they do on history's plan.

His father was Sun and mother Kunti Kumari. To one of such a birth, life could only provide a a broken wicker basket set adrift in river. Brought up amongst charioteers and even without the taste of his mother's milk on his lips, yet Karn grew up to be the greatest among the valorous. Strong of body, sentimental of heart, merciful by nature,not of his birth but of himself was Karn proud. Knowledge of Shastras and of weapons he had full, with his brilliance he gave knowledge in this field a mighty pull. He prayed in his corner, far from the maddening crowd of cities. Selflessly lost in his prayers and practicing his skills day and night, Karn bloomed like the unknown flowers in a forest. Not all that is brilliant grows in the royal gardens for the nature keeps it's dearest deep hidden in its bosom. But hidden in the darkness how long can the sun hide, for one day with the rise of youth rose the son divine.

Showing off his skills, Arjuna stood in the stadium while the crowd cheered. Tearing away the crowd, Karn stood up to the former,sneered. "Amongst this accolade why do you grow so proud? Here let me show my skills, my clout.Here watch what all I am capable of and realize how little have you explored these realms" With such vigor Karn displayed his acumen, watched with amazed wonderment Ajuna and every other men and women.

With the chants of 'Sadhu, Sadhu' the crowd grew wild. The royals in their balconies shifted and sweated in fear. The Pandavas, Dronacharya, Bheeshma all worried in their seats while Suyodhana(Duryodhana) alone rose up on his feet and congratulated Karn."'Brilliant. Bravo!" Karn then challenged Arjuna to wrestle him in the very ground but the latter's Guru signaled him to remain seated. Kripacharya (Arjuna's Guru) said' Listen rebel,Arjuna is the grand child of the noble Lord Bharata and you young man are unknown. A proud Kshatriya, Rajput is Arjuna. Do not expect him to fight just any man in the crowd. If you wish to fight Arjuna, then do not feign innocence, break this silence and enlighten us about your heritage, your lineage." "My clan, Alas my clan!" with these thoughts Karn fell silent, with bitter eyes looked up at the sky and proclaimed "Lineage, Birth, that's all that matters to the meek. What do i know of my lineage for my might and my valor is my clan. You might be clad in golden robes but your heart are smeared with ink. Do you feel no shame, when you ask me my father's name. I am the son of a charioteer but who is Arjuna's father i ask? If an ounce of pride do you posses then go ahead answer don't let my question go in vain. Reciting your lineage you walk with your head held high while trampling the poor underneath without uttering a sigh. With fear of those of lower births shiver your souls and it is you who asked for the students thumb."

A dirty Sheet IV

How beautiful is this concept of a full-stop. The reader never knows how long the gap between a full stop is.The two sentences could have been separated by a year or by mere moments. Yes, it has been time since i wrote last. Life suddenly engulfs you and like a wave takes you far away from the shore and somewhere in the sea it leaves you alone. All alone to swim back against the same wave to the shore. Guess i have reached shore at last. I read these sheets before i start typing them and i believe the mad man had had some education. Where? How? I guess we shall never know. Anyways, you do not care about my stories, so we shall move ahead with the diaries:

"
Gandhi came by yesterday. Sad old man he is now. Killed by his son, for wasn't he the Father of the Nation. The anguish of partition had already obliterated his former belief in humanity, the bullet was just a means to dispose off his human body. I didn't ask him, but he sat down beside me anyways. What was I supposed to tell him? Console him for his nation was not all that bad or question him about his anti-mechanization , anti-Patel tirades? He spoke first, "Times have changed but have the people? How does my nation do now?". I said reassuringly "Baapu (what else was i supposed to call him? Mohandas? Gandhi?), poverty has decreased, this is a stronger nation now. Everything's just fine". For what use was troubling this frail old man with your problems. "Do you remember me?" I was taken aback. Remember me? Ha, i remembered you, you who are imprinted on Rupee notes were in my palms once, but then now i have lost even that touch with you. "They do, baapu. You are remembered everywhere, from parks to streets to our currency notes. They see to it no one forgets you." He wasn't amused, with downcast eyes and a sigh he sat silent now. It was morning already, the rush had begun, the queue for taxi had started forming. This town teeming with people had begun the daily cycle already. "You all question me don't you? They are angry with me. My sons doubt me, my grandchildren mock me. If I was to be derided by future generations, I wish someone had drowned me to have no processions after my death, to have no grave. Do i know not that you think i am a coward, a hapless old fool. I who...". Suddenly he choked on tears that did not shed from his eyes, the emotions exhausted him. The dogs had formed an audience for this sketch. I was at a loss of words, I was supposed to be seated at the station entrance,begging now. "Baapu, they don't mock you Baapu. It's just that they are juvenile yet and haven't realized your reasoning yet. They will understand someday. Be proud that at least they are doing good. For haven't children always thought themselves better than their parents and haven't they always done the opposite of what their fathers asked them to do?" He looked questioningly at me. "What about you?" "What about me?" "Do you hate me?" I sat silent. Did I? Did I hate the guy who wasted his life, his family, himself for this nation of mine? Did i abhor his non-violent victimization of a nation? He kept looking at me with eyes which understood the meaning of the silence. A tremor passed through my body, had i betrayed him? Should i question him? And he was gone. Like the memories of childhood he had faded away. The distinct un-easiness remained with me through out the day. The collection in the begging bowl was good today, maybe because of the pain reflected in my eyes reminiscing his words. But then these are changed times and you all have changed. Have you? "

And then there was dawn...

Closed the kitchen window and walked up the stairs. She was putting finishing touches to her make up. She saw me in the mirror looking at her and said 'Do i look alright?'. I replied 'Darling, you look wonderful tonight.' It had been years since we went out to a party. Taking care of the kids, the initial hectic years of the job had taken their toll. But at last, we were free, the kids had gone to college and jobs. After 25 years of marriage we had time for us alone. I had met her in university, smitten with love had married in few months. Just out of the varsity had got a job in an uptown firm and since then life had been just average. A beautiful wife at home, two average kids and a good job. But of late, something had been missing. The load of work had decreased, so had more free time. The kids weren't home, hence the dinner table was quite, the house lacked the vigour of past days. I had changed over the years, she hadn't. She still loved me, why i know not. I feared i was no longer the same man she had fallen in love with, i feared i was deceiving her. How long could this facade last, what if she recognizes that i am no longer what i used to be. I wished no longer to be here, to be somewhere far, into nothingness. I wasn't exactly the smartest person in town. She deserved better. I felt guilty, guilty of being loved, guilty of having stolen her youth, guilty of not being in love, guilty of not loving her enough. This wasn't the life we had wanted in our college days, this wasn't what she had wanted. So i had failed at last. So now i was the average bloke now, not the prince she had wanted. I felt cold, the room had lost the brightness, everything seemed dull. Of late everything had lost the joy, the misery had been killing me. When would she just walk away? Then what would i do? The misery of it all, the blasted patheticness, why this drowning in the sea of emotions. I couldn't have foreseen this thing happening to me. With downcast eyes i waited, with a broken heart i waited.

She stood up from her stool in front of the mirror, came up to me, brushed her lips against my cheek and said 'Love.' and looked at me. The wind was no longer chilly, the room was perfectly painted, the world was at my feet and i at her's. The dam broke but only a few droplets got through my eyes onto my cheek and she smiled. She smiled and all was not wrong with the world. She smiled and there was nothing else i could have ever wanted. She smiled and I fell in love again.

A dirty Sheet III

Please continue this. Please do. You readers don't care about anything but your comfort do you? I lost my grandfather,but , ah, what do you care? You just want your daily dose of stories. Indeed the self-centred creatures of the beggar's diaries you are. Here, have your letters.


"Sun rose early today. Disturb my daily trysts it does. Poor Christy couldn't sleep well. He is in a bad mood today. Luna had to rush away early, mid discussion. Birds just won't shut up today. Jesus had it easy, a day of pain for an eternity of bliss, it is I who has to bear you everyday, listen to you bickering everyday, going on and on about your petty troubles and in the morning too. Leave your sadness at home, don't fret over fiddling details in the morning at least. There comes the ugly woman. She drops a coin at me everyday and tries to be kind. Ah, but all the generosity of the world won't make you pretty, lady. Get away from me don't ruin my already dim morning. This crowd, this continous noise, this constant bedlam, run away from my space, run away to you ant holes, to your kennels, to your pyres and burn forever in your fury. This is an angry city, these furious times. They cry not due to their pains but due to their inability to anything about it, as do I everyday. The day was an archetypal shitty day( i use this in lieu of any suitable word). Everything was going wrong until, ha you guessed it, i know what you want to hear now, i know what your heart desires to read now, you believer of fairy tales, yes until she walked by. She threw a glance at me and quickly looked away and what a glance it was. I can't think of how many men have slept a sleepless night because of her. The face that launched a thousand ships. She was Helen, she was Cupid's mistress, she was destroyer of households. Suddenly the day grew dark and all the sun's rays lived for only one mission, to light her face, or rather she was the bestower of light. And then she was no more. Lost amidst this flood of ugly bodies, my beauty was lost. Christy, is sulking today. Luna, was hidden in her curtains of cloud too. But i don't need you all, i have my visions to give me shelter, her beauty to cradle me through lonely nights, her glance for eternity. As these eyes relinquish their right over vision, I know the fairy sleeps somewhere bereft of any remembrance of this poor soul."

P.S. My apologies for my earlier tirade. I have of late, lost all my mirth. You don't care about my personal sorrows just as i don't care about yours. Fair enough. Sleep in the memory of a beautiful vision.

Sermons

Earth is back to the same position it was last year. Calendar wise, new year. I hear people moaning the total lack of change witnessed in everything. My dear friends or acquaintances or strangers, nothing will change just because arbitrarily assigned numbers on your watch changed. What did you expect the sky to turn a rosy orange, clouds to take perfect shapes, air to smell sweet? If there's a god, he must be pretty pissed off right now. He must be wondering, "What do you want from me?".

I sometimes don't understand this world. I don't understand why are strangers to be feared, to be looked at with suspicion, why are people with lower social standing to be taken to have lesser understanding of life's nuances, why can't we just smile more often? The guy honking his car horn may just be tensed right now, maybe his some dear one is at hospital and he just wants to reach the place as early as possible. Smile at the people walking by you, you never know they might be feeling depressed and wondering if everyone hates them. Your smile can change lives. Remember seeing a child smile or laugh brightened up your day once? Return the favor to humanity. Its easy to come back to your corner and type your depression into a laptop and be praised by fellow beings for being a person of excellent skills but smile at a stranger and you might actually make someone happy. Listen to middle aged or old men rant about their lives. It makes them feel wanted, it gives them a hope that they are not actually worthless, they have not wasted all their life over nothing. It might be interesting, you may learn something. You are not so busy to have no time for other humans. I do not ask for you to give any dedicated time for humanity, just these small acts and world will be a better place for someone.

Have fun this year. Let's break some resolutions this year. Let's not just exist, let's live. :)