Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music.‘ – Angela Monet

The wind was howling and the 5ft 5 inches frame was hardly able to keep himself standing. “Abi, we need to move fast” – he could hear Bista shouting on top of his voice.

He nodded his head and showed Bista 2 fingers indicating he needed some more moments.

Abi took out the poster from the bag with his trembling fingers. The image was blurred in front of the moist eyes, which could hardly remain open – Vidette was leaning over him in the graduation ceremony snap. It was clicked on the day he had finally managed to finish his geophysics thesis from Tel Aviv University after 4 long years.

Suddenly random images started clouding the mind – the day he resigned from his high-flying job in Edinburgh – Vidette sobbing at the top of her voice – ‘You either select me or run after those stupid mounds all your life.’

The thoughts were interrupted by the vigorous shaking of his shoulders by Bista. He had fallen down on his knees and could hardly feel his right stump. He gave a faint smile to indicate that everything was Ok.

He took the small pole and inserted a hole into the smiling face of Vidette, and planted the flag at the summit. Suddenly the shoulders relaxed, blood seemed to return to his left leg and even the artificial right leg seemed to have got a life of its own. The baggage of the past was fluttering on top of the world.

Both climbers started the descent on the NorthEast Ridge towards the base camp. The storm still seemed far off but Abi’s heart was fluttering at the sight of the peaks, snow and clouds below. He didn’t really care about the fact that he was only the 3rd human with an artificial limb to have reached the Everest summit. Fame was never an excitement nor was the sense of achievement. It was just the howling of the wind, the flock of red-billed chough flying in the backdrop of the snowy peaks. And most of all the metamorphic rocks which were remnants of the collision of the Indo-Australian and Eurasian plates.

Passion is the genesis of genius – Anthony Robbins



‘The king appeared… with his dogs and sycophants behind him.’ – Kathleen Winsor

Is the fine art of Sycophancy dying and are Sycophants joining the ranks of dodos and dinosaurs in the extinction hall of fame?

I have been looking hard all around me for the past few weeks to find that sweet little thing in my office, called a sycophant…Remember the good old days in school, where that sugar-boy with the middle parting and a gallon of crude oil in his hair used to say ‘Good morning Miss’ in the sweetest way possible… He used to study hard and suck harder! The smile used to be reserved only for teachers, principle and anybody who could move the machinery…

Even in my 1st organization a decade back, we had a sugar-dude who used to smile, and then smile and then smile some more and he used to go into an ecstatic orgasm every time the head of the department would return his hello. Yes, such guys rise up to a certain level, but then after a point of time the pretense shows and the fall is far from gracious!

But unfortunately despite the combination of a microscope and sharp ears/eyes, I’m unable to find a sycophant around. If you find one, please let me know!


‘Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No… don’t blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away’ – A quote from Captain Corelli’s Mandolin

Los Angeles – USA, 1987

She put on her sunglasses and waited for Roger to walk out from the front seat to open the door… There was a huge crowd waiting outside the Kodak Theatre at Hollywood Boulevard. She took a deep breath and pulled down her burgundy sequin gown slightly to reveal the assets that had taken the entire world by storm….

As soon as she stepped out of the black stretch limo, the flashbulbs went into an overdrive…She put on a pout and waved across to the crowd held back by the beefy guards standing on the sidelines… A Michael Jackson look-alike moonwalked towards her with a rose but was stalled by Roger in his tracks.

She removed her glasses to have a better look at the 2500th star embedded on the concrete recently. The five-pointed terrazzo and brass star read ‘Deborah Gibson’. Aasim would’ve been really happy to see this – 10 years back on a rainy Sunday when they had just got married, he had foretold that one day her name would be shining the brightest on this street.

“Congrats Debbie – how do you feel to have yourself embedded into a hall of fame at such a young age?” – an eager rookie from TMZ thrust his mike from amidst the jostle of the 20 odd entertainment journalists gathered today to get a juicy sound bite from one of the most controversial stars Hollywood had seen in recent times.

“Just feel a bit old now that this piece of metal has been engraved… But I guess I should have got it much earlier.” – she ran across her fingers across the red curls, which were as much a part of her personality now as the famous pout.

“And how’s the celebration planned for this momentous occasion?”

“A movie date with Aasim – of course one which featurs Ms. Deborah Gibson.”

She could see Roger moving around her a bit uneasily, as soon she mentioned the name. She answered a few more questions before whispering Roger to take her back to the mansion.



She walked into the sprawling bedroom – the curtains were closed across the huge glass doors – there were no windows and no walls – Aasim liked life to be open and bright and so did she…The whiff of lavender from the flowers across the 2 side tables gave a light, fresh feel to the room. She had asked Mary to specially ensure these were ordered today, on behalf of Aasim for her…

She could hear him snoring although it was only 7 in the evening. She quietly put their favorite Charlie Chaplin movie in the player and poured a couple of glasses of Chardonnay…The dim lights accentuated her silhoute onto the white screen installed across the bed.

She walked upto him and kissed him on the forehead.

“Happy Anniversary darling!”

Aasim opened his eyes, the paralysed body unable to move or smile, but she knew that his heart was still beating – happy and sad at the same time. It had been exactly 10 years since the day they got married and their plane crashed!

‘The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart’- Helen Keller


Those who fear life are already three parts dead.  ~Bertrand Russell

The one emotion which keeps floating below the radar and blobs up every now from our subconscious to drive our everyday action is Darr – The FEAR!

During childhood, the fear of the one tight slap that a teacher or parent would fingerprint under your left ear…or that of the school bully who would come and remove your trouser in front of the entire school and that too on a day when you forgot to wear your tinnie-winnie underwear!

Teenage brings in sweet little pimples on the face and the fear of rejection by that hot chick you laid your eyes on….The fear of not being cool enough to be accepted by your group of chummies.

But the most debilitating fears are the ones which each of us continue to live with through our adult lives… Am I saying the right thing for others to like me? Have I sucked up enough to the boss for the promotion? How do I avoid the fight with the spouse this Friday so the Saturday romp is ensured? Why is my cash growth not keeping up with the inflation? The butterflies in the tummy before standing in front of a huge audience…

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