Skepticism & Optimism

A skeptical person asked his friend,

S: Why did you visit an astrologer? Do you believe in what he says?
F: I don’t care if it’s right or wrong.
S: Then?
F: I just go there for a narcissistic pleasure. If he says good things, I appease my wailing heart of a better future.
S: What if it’s bad?
F: Then I tell my heart that it’s not our fault, it’s written! So, chuck it!
S: But it can be all rubbish!
F: I know, but as long as something is serving me, why shall I Care!
S: That’s being too optimistic about life.

F: Shouldn’t we all be?

Note – Skepticism is a good habit as it removes the negative effects of confirmation bias from our lives; but, in some situations being a optimist helps us to pass the storm without any mental stress. Both are not mutually exclusive. However, one should know how to include both in one’s life in correct proportions.


What have WE done!

These days we all are facing problems due to pollution but who caused it?

It’s us who are the culprits by neglecting environment for our needs.
It’s us who still don’t take proper measures.
I know that large-scale industries are causing much of the damage, but by not paying attention to our small actions, aren’t we all contributing to the same?

Seriously, what have we done!


Yes, Me Too!


The only incident, of the few that I had to face, that I was never able to forget during my childhood was, “Bhai badi nice chest hai teri! Chest nahi Breast!” (Bro what a nice chest you have; just like breasts) he said, followed by a spank on my chest!

I got scarred by it for the rest of my school-life. I was already a shy, an introvert and a sensible kid, and this incident even made it worse. It made me so conscious that I always felt uncomfortable in my own body.

In fact, my obesity gave a lot of people a self-proclaimed right to bark comments, and perform some gestures and actions, that made me realize that how hollow the definition of Fun is, for them. Pleasure at the cost of somebody’s self esteem.

Earlier, I thought only uneducated & uncivilized people do such things, but later when I saw some people going to the extent of harassing others by taking advantage of the surroundings, I was boiled with anger. Such a case was when one of my educated college mate told me that how he manipulated intentional touches in the disguise of jerks in a bustling bus. I was speechless.

And I think, I was wrong there. I should have told him that bro, whether you did it, or just making it up…it’s not cool. I should have, and from now on #IWill.

It’s not cool, it’s offensive and cruel!

Memes: Fun, Sarcasm, Passive Aggression or just a bad pun?

In this culture of making and tagging people in memes, sometimes people go far in rearranging the context of a particular gesture, dialogue or art so as to elicit laughter. Earlier it was a harmless creative act intended for fun, but now a days it has become the caricature for Sarcasm and Passive Aggression. Which is again fine, to an extent. After all, we have a right to expression, at least we may believe so. But sometimes, the realignment/remodeling of the context is so cruel on the original context that if you are aware about the latter, it elicits sadness and not the intended fun it was supposed to.
Why sadness? Because even though you will hear/see something, it won’t have the kind of affect it should have on you. It would just result in a momentary laugh and endless tagging!
P.s: I just saw the a video yesterday, and then I saw this meme today. And the sad part is that if i had seen the meme on the day before yesterday, I would have laughed and tagged to. But today, I couldn’t. I couldn’t because I know the context.

Street Artists Deserve More Than Just Our Attention

Ever passed by an awesome street artist who gave your emotions wings, mood a needed-swing, and made your day interesting, without sparing a buck for him? We all have, sometime or the other!

I recently read somewhere that if an artist can make you stop and see/listen-to the marvel he has in his talent then you owe him a buck at least. And I can’t agree more!

So, the next time you meet such an artist, feel heavy in your heart but not in your pocket with the money that he/she deserves!

The Paradigm of Having the Right Attitude

Everyone motivates you to have the right attitude, but what’s the Right Attitude for you? Nobody questions that, so let’s discuss a little what is this right attitude.

The one that worked for that person?
Might be.
The one that works for the majority?
Might be.
The one that resonates with your individuality and dreams?

So, it would be wise to try out different options before concluding your right attitude towards life; the one that works for you. The one that resonates with you. And that’s how you will know that it’s the right one for you. 🙂


Met the love of my life!

Adult: I bought you an ice-cream.
Child: Really? Which one?

Adult: It’s your favourite! Kwality Wall’s Cornetto, Black Disk!
Child: Hnn!! Thanks! Is today your b-day?

Adult: Nopes, but I am extremely happy today as I met the love of my life!
Child got confused..

Adult: What?
Child: You met your family today!?

Adult: No, No! This is different kind of love.
Child: Oh! Tell me more about it.

Adult: Well, you feel butterflies in your stomach and on her one touch you can teleport to another world.
Child: That’s not different. I remember I felt something similar when my little sis was born and and when she grabbed my finger for the first time.

Adult: Ahh! It’s different! You will understand it when you will grow up.
Child: Hmm, may be. But I like this love more as beside the butterflies, I felt something else too.

Adult: What did you feel?
Child: I don’t know, it was a different feeling. The same I have when mom cuddles me, or when I sit on my father’s shoulders. I asked mom so she replied, “it’s LOVE”.

Adult was flabbergasted, but smiled..

Adult: Yes, it’s LOVE.

P.s: Want to learn about LOVE, sit with a child!

It Was All Black!

There we were, standing outside our decorated house, watching fire engulfing almost all the memories we had preserved, and giving out a black smoke which was silently laughing at our tribulations; soaring to the sky to let other people know about it too. But what we could do then?

Phone calls had been made. Prayers were on a non-stop loop. And eyes….well, some were wet, some were gloomy, some were sad and mine….

Mine were lost…They refused to shed even a single tear. And our ears were seeking the wailing siren. Well,

The siren of fire brigade was never so soothing. Neither I had that much respect for my helpful neighbours prior to that day. But it was all black. The sky, the outer walls of my house, and the hope of resting after an eventful (and wonderful) 2 months.

The smoke persisted against its nemesis, water.

Water prevailed. A major adversity was averted as the gas cylinders just escaped the clutches of fire.

But it was all black. The inner walls, my room, and my preserved memories. Those pages which I cherished, turned black at the corners and lost their roots. My beloved guitar was nowhere to be found. Those letters which I had written were delivered to nowhere by smoke. Still, the eyes didn’t shed a tear.

As what was gone can be built again. As what was saved, our lives, was more important. And as the essence of making and enjoying those memories persisted even when the fire burnt everything materialistic regarding them. Maybe, it was all black except the colors those memories had spread in my heart; that’s why I didn’t cry.


P.s: I do sometimes miss those things, but it will pass!

She was home Alone!

Knock Knock Knock! The Voice creeped her out;

Clank Clank Clank! He took out a key.

Creak Creak Creak! The door wailed “incoming”;

Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! The shoes smelt where’s She.

Click! Click! Click! The light was gone;

Rustle! Rustle! Rustle! She embraced her knee.

Zoom! Zoom! Zoom! The thunder cleared its throat;

Patter! Patter! Patter! The innocent windows screamed.

Mom! Mom! Mom! She murmured in fear.

Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! The crickets veiled the murmurs indeed.

Squeak! Squeakk! Sqeakkk! She could hear him near.

Sssss ahhhh! Sssss ahhhh! Sssss ahhhh! He located her via her breath-feed.

Clang! Clangg! Clanggg! His arms’ shadow was getting big.

No! No! No! Her murmuring got intensified.

Zoop! Zoop! Zoop! He pulled away the table-sheet.

Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Her fear was about to get realized.

Blink! Blink! Blink! Light came and illuminated his face

Thump! Thump! Thump! She saw her daddy; and they embraced….

Contemplating Religion

Yesterday, while driving on the Baba Kharak Singh Marg in Delhi at CP, my friend asked about my devotion towards Bangla Sahib. And, without any pause, I could muster just a nod and the following statement. “Yes, I love being at Bangla Sahib.” And then, I saw its glittering dome and felt happy for some mysterious reason. I continued, “It’s strange how I feel at some places, be it Vaishno Devi, Jama Masjid, Bangla Sahib, in the midst of nature, in the midst of small children and so on. A certain sense of peace comes gushing from within and lifts my lips to form an arch and smile. It doesn’t come from the knowledge that I have had eaten and drunk along with a glass of milk during school that God lives there; but from the feel it gives while I am there. There, in the midst of God, maybe. And, it doesn’t matter what my religion is; as he never talks to the person who has a surname or who has a particular attire but to the soul who is nameless, naked, and pure,” before I got interrupted. “Bro, we are lost. Which turn shall I take? And why were you smiling looking outside?! “Nothing, I was just contemplating what my religion is.” Only this time, my voice was loud enough for him to hear.