This, That and Some More

Practicing to write in third person.... They had met a year and a half back, a few hurried business meetings throughout which his eyes bore into her. She had felt somewhat uncomfortable and wondered if ogling at women was a habit with RK (as he liked to call himself) but she brushed it off and returned his direct eye to eye gaze as they spoke. RK was assessing the teams across the globe and how best to leverage them and also trying to come to grips with his new responsibilities and seemed to be somewhat out of his depth. Shahana patiently explained the Indian operations and how the team she headed fitted in the big picture and the conversation drifted to Alzheimer's disease. "Maybe you can try wearing your watch on your right hand instead of left, then your brain will have a new signal for a routine habit" Shahana said. "Really? Does that work? I think remembering all these Indian names will be quite enough for me" RK responded. Shahana was a bit needled, the so

People asked me why I stopped blogging and I would respond that once I started to get paid for what I wrote, writing merely as a form of self expression seemed a waste of time. It's true I earned a few thousands when I wrote for some publications and I thought that offers would now pour in because whatever I produced was so eminently readable! Well offers didn't exactly pour in and I also did not pursue my career in writing in all earnest. I also lost touch with my one and only hobby thanks to good old greed. Well eminently readable or not, I can just write for now and rest can happen later. Hello Again!

It's been a long time since I sang out loud, at the most I have hummed and once in a while sang in a rush at a friends place to relive some school memories. In some inspired moments, in an empty house after listening to a particularly nice song I try to reproduce it, go hopelessly off key and then give up. I am also eternally embarrassed at most condolence meetings where I am asked to sing 'something appropriate' (a.k.a. Bromho sangeet or Ranbindra sangeet) and I sit stonily and mumble that I have forgotten to sing. At this stage people offer books which have printed lyrics (which seem to be peculiarly handy) and I cringe further and wish the Earth would swallow me up! But of course such things happen with only ladies as pure as Sita and not a out and out sinner (like me). I usually mutter more excuses and pass on the so called singing baton to the more abled. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) some people have these elephantine memories and recollect that I used to sing at so