I can assure you that when I got up today morning, I had no intention of writing this post. Forget the morning, even ten minutes back I had no inclination that this post was brewing. I was happily preparing my lunch, boiling lentils for the ubiquitous daal, staple of many Indian households for lunch and dinner, when suddenly popped up this announcement on my cell phone. Thank whoever is up there that my betterhalf did not see the announcement first. She would not have had the patience to scroll down and would have shot first. No, not with a gun, we don’t own one, but I dread more the treatment that would have been meted out more than the gun shot that I am sure she would have missed.
To cut to the chase, I am five years old today. No, not in physical age, I don’t even remember being thtyat old any more. I am five years old by WordPress calender and that’s the anniversary note that popped up on my phone just few minutes back.
And what a wonderful five years it had been. Brought to social media kicking and screaming, I now relish the wonderful friends I have met across all the continents of the world except Antarctica. I have not met any of them physically yet but many of those friendships I cherish. They make life worthwhile through their writings and comments.
So without much ado, and before my dall boils over(and to spare myself from a tongue lashing), here is to friendship and a long, fruitful journey together in the world of writing in WordPress.
How do you not say no to your destiny
And not find your own path,if any
Mark your own place in this world
To have your say you must be bold
Follow your destiny and bid your time
Soon you be old and time to say good by
So roll up your sleeves and put shoulders to the wheel
It won’t be easy but satisfaction you will feel
A path not marked by destiny for you to follow
Dangers will be plenty but life will not be hollow
You may fail or you may soar
But go ahead and explore without fear
You are the man to make your own destiny
You will mark your own time and place, no doubt, not any
So go ahead and say no to your destiny
You are old when your call is answered
And you are trying to remember who you called
You are old when your call is answered
And you ask why are you being called
You are old when your call is met with silence
And you hold the phone to your ear wondering why
You are old when your phone lies dead by your side
And you don’t remember a single number to call
So when you are still young, pick up the phone and call
Some one young at heart may respond and you have a ball
Before the fingers become stiff, ears go deaf
Eyes go blurry, memories fade and voice gets weak
Wake up, reach out, make a call and hug your near and dear ones
In our adolescence, we leave our homes to go to colleges and universities for higher studies. For many of us that would be the first time staying away from home alone. We make new friends, spend few years of our formative life together, graduate and then move out in search of our livelihood. In old days, many a times, that was the last time we would meet or correspondance with friends that we spent years together. Modern technology and social media is making it easier to track old friends whose memories we kept alive for years in our mind. Alas, with time people change. Memories of distant past and present clash sometimes and produce unexpected results.
Poem below is my feeling about meeting groups of old classmates in social media after decades of being completely out of touch. Those feelings may resonate with some of my readers. Appreciate your feedback.
We have traversed distances long
Climbed mountains high
Savored the fruit of success Continue reading “Friends will remain Friends”
How the three “Rs” have changed with time!
When we were students, it meant Reading, (W)riting, (A)rithmatic.
Went to work, it became Reorg, Retrench, Replace.
Once work life was over, thought it would be Retire, Relax and Reconnect.
But old age brought its own issues of Relapse, Recovery and Redundancy.
And Whatsapp turned Reconnect into Rehash, Repost and Recycle.
What more can be expected from a generation that grew up with “copy / paste”.
Note: Not recycled. Original thought process during breakfast.