Flight of Icarus

There's a man standing there on the hill. His figure casts a silhouette in the backdrop of the rising sun, and he looks like an angel. Yes. An angel. Not by his countenance or his aura or anything so spiritual or supernatural. But because he has wings. Yes. Wings. When I see them spread as he spreads his hands out, I realize he's about to take off. And he takes that step over the ledge. For a moment, I run towards the edge, weighed down by my own wings, but then, suddenly he swoops up in the air like an eagle, wings flapping to assist his rise, the updraft helpiing him along and soar towards the open skies. He's a free man now.

Now it's my turn to walk my father's steps. Or should I say, FLY my father's path. I stand at the edge. Looking down is scary. It's pretty deep a drop from here. I don't think falling would be as musical as they say. Or even lyrical. Nopes. It would be plain horrid. I'm afraid. I do not want to take the leap. My father is a genius, and I see his genius at work even now when his wax wings have done the trick. But I'm still scared. I don't jump. I won't jump. I'll find another way out of this mess.

"Guards, there he is! Capture him!"

I turn back to see guards rushing at me, the red crests of their helmets fluttering in the wind. Their swords are unsheathed, glinting in the sun.

I turn back, and jump. Father had told me to flap gently and I did. I was scared. But the very first flap of my wings took me higher. Three more flaps and I was gliding away towards the sun. Towards the skies. Towards my father. Towards freedom!

It takes time to adjust and learn how to fly. But I'm a natural. I took to flying so easily, I started proudly smiling at my own abilities. Father is a genius, and his son is not a dolt either. I catch up with Father, who still warns me not to fly too low, or too high. I smile at him, nodding, and shout out that I'm not stupid. He smiles back.

But ahh, the thrill of flying. I swoop, soar, rise and glide. My heart calls out loudly to all the Gods and all the men, who never thought man could fly. We beat them all. I see the sun. It is majestic. Helios should be saluted. I fly higher to offer Helios my salutations. I don't see him yet, and so I fly higher. I feel hot. But I still fly higher to see Helios. The sun is glaring down at me as if to challenge how a mere mortal can come so close to him. I laugh it's glare down. I fly even higher.

It's getting harder to fly now though. I have to flap harder, faster. And that's when I notice that the wax holding my osier and willow wings together are melting. The twigs are giving way, creating holes in my wings. I lose control. I am now losing height.

I spiral away towards the sea rapidly. I can't do a thing to help myself. Somewhere in my mind, I can hear myself shouting. It's all surreal. Like a dream. I see my father trying to help me by holding me, but I'm too heavy for one set of wings to support. I fall.

I crash into the ocean. I don't know how to swim. I'm drowning. They say drowning is the most painful way to die. I think so too now. The last vestiges of air in my lungs give way. I feel my lungs being filled by water. I wonder if they would ever honour me. Maybe name the sea, and maybe even a small island after me.

I'm blacking out now. I see stars in the sea. Yes, stars in the water.

And my mind now only has two thoughts in it.

I love my father.

I could not salute the sun.

- Vinaykrishnan.

Don't leave now... (Ab na Jaa - Euphoria)

When I close my eyes,
I see only You,
Only in my dreams
I can call You mine,
Please leave it be,
My faith in my illusions,
Don't leave now...
It's a night of love,
Don't leave now...
It's just a small matter,
Don't leave now...

My sleep is only by you,
So what if I don't get sleep?
My conversations are only by you,
So what if I don't get to talk?
Let the stars tell their stories untold,
Don't leave now...
It's a night of love,
Don't leave now...
It's just a small matter,
Don't leave now...
It's a meeting of only a few moments,
Don't leave now...
The night is like magic,
Don't leave now...

On my forehead are drops of love,
Scattered are many questions,
My eyes have many seasons in them,
In a moment how many years passed!
Let life take me wherever it flows to
Don't leave now...
It's a night of love,
Don't leave now...
It's just a small matter,
Don't leave now...
It's a meeting of only a few moments,
Don't leave now...
The night is like magic,
Don't leave now...

Don't leave now...
Don't leave now...
Don't leave now...
Don't leave now...

- Vinaykrishnan.

My Personal Pleasure

Compulsive Blogging? Never heard of it. I've only done two blogs a day, that too one day of my life. TODAY. But they say the joy of blogging, putting down everything on the internet for the world to see, is something that is addictive. Like cocaine. You just can't stop. I think I can't get addicted though. The reason is simple. Lack of people's criticism on my blogging. I have not publicised my blog to too many people. Only some friends, and my family. Well, I do get the occasional post on Facebook for my efforts. But really, not one person has ever said that a post of mine was TOTAL CRAP. And I find a lot of my posts to be truckloads of bullshit. Like this one that I'm writing right now. A two-tonne truckload of mindless rambling about things that nobody would EVER read, or want to read themselves, or want others to read.

But then I think to myself, that maybe, MAYBE, I'm only writing for my own pleasure. Of course you can argue that I am saying this as no one does read too much of me. Sour grapes, is the expression that comes to mind. But personally, I really do think I write only for MY OWN reading pleasure. When I do write something for someone, I always make it a point to tell them that that particular post is for them to read, or is something they would like to read, or is a DEDICATION to them.

But I guess, this, like all my previous posts, is just another straw of grass in the wind. It will dry out too someday. And something new would take it's place. Maybe another blade of grass. Maybe an oak tree.

Till we find out what that new thing is, I'll just keep writing for my personal pleasure.

- Vinaykrishnan.

Random Observations.

Hmmm... I'm wondering what to write. I am at the New Delhi IGI Airport, and I love this place. I also am basically of the nature of observing people at airports and bus stations. What they are doing, what they are eating, what they are reading, whether they are listening to music on their mobiles or talking to someone.

The Aussies are playing the Kiwis right now. I think the match is in Ferozshah Kotla. Mamata is raving on about her Railway Budget for over a couple of hours now. Costa Coffee, Curry Republic, Foodie's Bar and Masala Twist are overly priced. KFC and PHD look pale in comparison. But I love my Zingers. I remember I was flying to Kochi once and I had 2 Zingers and 2 Chicken Pieces with a Coke at 6:15 in the morning! Beer is available, but I'm avoiding it. Flying is a dehydrating experience in itself. Not to mention that I am shit scared of flying, yet end up taking at least 6 to 8 flights in a year.

I'm also chatting away on my cell phone with a lot of people. And was going through my Sister's Blog. I thought I was a decent writer. But my Sister kicks my ass left, right and center. I love her posts, and love the passion with which she describes recipes, and my Niece's naughtiness.

The dry announcements rambling over the loud-speakers are the only part of this setup that I dislike. Intensely. All right, I heard you the first time! Just shut the eff up already! God, you're like a school of piranhas! Nagging away.

Okay, I'm done. Need a change of shirts. I'm wearing warm clothes, but Ahmedabad is hot this time of the year.

And oh, someone is singing Bailamos on the television. Not Enrique. Just thought you'd like to know.

- Vinaykrishnan.

You

Nothing that can separate me from Your embrace,
Every breath of mine now resounds with Your Name,
I walk only the path that leads me to You,
Not a hurdle large enough to deter my steps.

Like the musk-deer, haunted by it's own fragrance,
I travelled amidst the trivial searching You,
Only to realize now that none other Your Abode
Than within my own self.

Not one worth knowing, except You,
No one's but Your Eyes worth looking at,
Nothing captivates me more now,
Not even the mirror showing my reflection.

Pale is all the world's grandeur
Against the aura of Your Presence,
And nothing more I wish than to stay in your warmth,
In Your unbridled, unadulterated and pure Love.

I am only Yours,
Undoubtedly, Unequivocally, Unabashedly.

- Vinaykrishnan.

Intermingled Causes

The trough that comes before a crest is what teaches man the value of the crest. That feeling of that all-time low, intermingling with, and also causative of, frustration, irritation, despondency and loss of faith and patience - all of this when reminisced during fairer times, though may seem stupid and trivial, are actually what allows man to feel the ecstasy of the good times better.

Like darkness. Paving the way for the light. So that the ways of the light can be seen clearer. So that the whirling swarms of particles can be viewed better in the filtering rays of the light.

Like evil. Laying the foundation for good to tear through all its bonds and shackles and emerge victorious. That goodness in itself only learns what is good through evil.

Only through the whimisical vagaries and vicissitudes of evil and darkness are goodness and light born and sustained. That nothing good can come unless you wait for the bad to get finished. It's a cycle, one that goes on and on. And I hope I can learn that completely, and understand it completely and assimilate it completely, so that I can be more acute in my understanding, and stop being so obtuse in my thinking and outlook.

I am on a high now. Getting to the crest, now that I have gone through the trough - it's an amazing feeling.

Flying high.

- Vinaykrishnan.

A Thousand Feet To The Bottom - A Tale Of The End

Like standing on a precipice. Look down. Look down! It's amazing! Isn't it? A sheer fall of over a thousand feet into an abyss you can barely see. Is it water down there? Or is it a hard rock? You can't tell. Faith took you upto here. And faith shall see you through, you think. No use of faith. It's a block of concrete down there. Oh, actually it's water. Pure, glistening, if there were any sunlight on it ever. They say falling from such height into water, or even cotton, is like falling on a slab of steel from a three storeyed building.

Splat! That's the last thing that would go through your head.

I think it's strange that you must think so. It's just a leap. One jump, or even one step off the ledge. Faith. Gives you wings. Let's try. What say you? I wonder if it's real wings. Like in the Red Bull advertisement. Or like the guy in X-Men who breaks the window panes, and spreads his lovely white wings. Maybe it's like Icarus, who just wouldn't listen to his father. Poor Daedalus. Sheer genius, yet to have a kid who's a dolt. Wax wings. What say you? Let's try it out. Atleast in our final act of rebellion, of defiance, of breaking free from this bondage, we shall find out. In that last moment of refusal to accept tyranny, we shall experience something unique. Something we have never felt ever before. Something true. Pure. Ecstatic. Blissful. True and unadulterated freedom. Freedom. Independence.

Or something really dreadful. Fear. Horror. Regret. Shame. I wonder what we would feel. Maybe even repulsion. That the world never saw us for what we were. That we could not ever show the world our true mettle. That despite us having a stage, we were only ordinary stage actors. That nothing about us was so appealing that the universe did not even try to stop us from doing something so terrible. Or so heavenly.

Musical maybe.

I wonder if you think of what music you like when you fall. Meatloaf? Or is it Beethoven? Maybe it's Euphoria. Euphoria as in the band. Maybe, maybe, it's fusion. Like something Middle Eastern, with a dash of the Corrs. Or maybe, it's only Bryan Adams. So Far So Good.

But whatever it may be, I truly do believe that we are justified. That we took birth and lived not by our choice is something I shall not debate anymore. But that we lived and quit by our choice is something I shall want to have. It's true. It's mine to choose. To opt for. My only. My precious. Tolkien was never wrong. Not once.

Maybe it's all the books you read. Tolstoy. Chekhov. Tolkien. Goodkind. Gaiman. Or maybe even the Kings that you read. All of it culminating into something special. Spectacular. Down. You're pretty close to the bottom now.

You. Your first kiss. Your first love. Your joy at seeing your child smile at you for the first time. Your first kiss again. The eyes of your lover. That feeling of holding her so tight that you would never let go. That hair that she rolls up and ties up. That feeling of being with her. That touch. That smile. Those lovely lips. That warmth and the feeling of tenderness.

That's all. You're done.

Splat!

- Vinaykrishnan.

A Year Of Many Faces.

Another year has passed me by. A year of many highs, lows, and quite a few gray areas as well. I reminisce about what I did, learnt, enjoyed, agonized over, cried over, laughed about, shared, viewed, understood, assimilated, taught others - and I am amazed. It rocks me to my core.

I changed jobs, made new friends, learnt new things inside and outside of work, visited new places, saw wondrous sights that I had never dreamt of, got a couple of tattoos, got scolded over these and laughed at over these, and also admired for these.

I saw new movies, heard new genres of music, met people who dreamed like me, met people who dreamed differently, met people who lived to match their dreams, and some who outlived their dreams.

I drank till I passed out, drank till I was the last man standing, I have enjoyed countless conversations on life, philosophy, music, work, debated over India and its problems, politics, books, movies. I have socialized on the internet, and in the real world, and have realized that I like the latter better.

I learnt to be a better writer, fostered hope that someday now I can be bigger than what I am. I left behind a lot of luggage, am carrying some, and will carry even more as I grow older. Not wiser, maybe.

I have hugged unknown people, danced with known ones, travelled with friends, travelled to meet friends, travelled to meet my loved ones. I have reached a whole new level of understanding with my family, and at this level, there are a lot of new complications, but a lot more love and sincerity.

I learnt how to live life unabashedly, learnt to love unconditionally, learnt to wait eternally, learnt to give openly, learnt to hug till the other person stops and I have cried over many matters, some trivial, some monumental.

I hope I have a year like this every year of my life. I hope I get most of what I want in the new year. I hope I don't get some of it, just to keep things balanced. I hope I learn more in this beautiful world. I hope I grow to be a better man. I hope I get love from the most unexpected of quarters, and I hope to learn to love what I already have even more.

I hope.

- Vinaykrishnan.

Evil Over Good

Have you ever felt such that what is just a vileness of time, is infact the only manner in which it can appeal to you? That being inherently nefarious, while in black and white may be revolting, yet in the tumult of all the shades that it guises itself, in, that is what draws us to it? Maybe being all good is not what Man innately desires. A twist of the pernicious, and that too very insidiously sprinkled. Please, no straightforward evil, lest it tear away the veil of innocence and adroitness with which I cover myself before I sleep every night.

And yet my haunches hurt. As do my guts. All that is toxic, is indeed so. And it comes out. Agonizingly. Violently. Painfully. Excruciatingly so. Manifestations of the very essence of which it is made. Bloodied, gored, skewered. And even as tears. As salty as the ocean, and just as powerfully wilful.

I think it's relative. In the sense that at some point of time, I really do feel like Superman. At other points of time, it's as if I am on Kryptonite. And then some moments are just crazy enough to make me Lex Luthor. And maybe it makes most sense, because although Luthor was in a prison, no one could ever imprison his mind and its machinations and its sheer genius. Uncannily, and unwittingly, Superman always emerges victorious. But credit goes to Luthor, for making Superman struggle to be what he is. Hence again proving that only through the whimisical vagaries and vicissitudes of evil and darkness are goodness and light born and sustained.

I'm not sure what I am writing here. As a writer, I am supposed to give the readers something that is worth their time.

Point noted. Duly.

- Vinaykrishnan.

The Lady Who Danced My Heart Away.

I went to Ruby Tuesday earlier today with a couple of my friends, who wanted to guzzle in some alcohol into their systems. Since I'm off alcohol since some time, I tried a variety of ice-cream colas, while the guys had beer and vodka.

I love Ruby Tuesday over here in Chandigarh, and I sit there for hours usually when I go there. The decor, ambience, music, and not to mention, the food is especially nice, and really appealing to me. I even know the manager there now well enough to get a special booth anytime I go there.

Today, something strange happened, that left me thinking. A lady, in her early 40s, very immaculately dressed in a brown top, black trousers and a lovely black and grey stole, a lovely flower print handbag, and with hair left open came into RT. She must have been a really pretty lady in her youth, and still had the elan to carry it off wonderfully well. However, the moment she stepped in, she kept her handbag on a stool, and her scarf beside it, and started jiving to this music that was playing. It was an old song, "Brother Louie". And she did it wonderfully well, with no inhibitions at all. And this space on the floor is right next to where we were sitting. So we had a perfect view of it all.

We were shocked initially, but then the manager immediately came to us and told us that she was like this only, and has been so for so many years. How she comes to so many restaurants, eats a little, pays the bill, dances, and then goes away all smiles and laughs.

And at that time, I saw that smile on her face. She was happy. HAPPY. And I don't mean "Happy to meet you", or "Yes, I am a happy person." But really really HAPPY. She was at that perfect juncture, where she could still manage herself well, earn and spend money as she liked, and dance where she wanted.

I have always thought that I am a kind of person who doesn't care what people think. But there are still so many things I wouldn't do. But this lady, she showed me something today, that I think I will never forget in my life. She taught me, that actions speak better than words. That she was happy. That being happy is not about money or anything, but about being at peace with yourself.

I envy that lady. I really do. Not in a negative manner. But that I'm a fan of hers for life now. To dance where she wants. To laugh how she wants. To live the way she wants.

Suddenly, Friedrich Nietschze shouts out loudly, and NOW crystal clearly:
"And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music."

Dance. Laugh. Live on, Lady.

- Vinaykrishnan.

Some Words I Love

Everyone has to love some words. They may be words they use a lot, or which mean something to them, etc. Some very common words that I love are:

-> Nice - I really think that the word "Nice" has got that feeling of actually being nice. It's different from good, or fine, or pleasant, etc., because I can actually speak it in whatever tone I want, and it would take the same meaning, no matter what.

-> Intellectual – The perfect word for that state of mind, of being clever and articulate and intelligent and smart and witty and sometimes, even snobbish about knowledge, but in a very nice manner.

-> Sexy – Pretty much conveys the meaning perfectly, doesn’t it?

-> Horrible – The sound of this word itself expresses that something is really bad or so gross that it makes us think of a word as intense as horrible.

-> Touch – Anytime I feel the need for a Touch, it really pops up in my head as the exact word to express my emotion.

-> Hello – Hello is not just a greeting. It’s a way of telling someone that you care, and that you love them. That what is going on in their world actually matters to you.

-> Amazing – As amazing as Amazing!!! The sound itself conveys the exact meaning, and infact precedes the meaning notion in my brain.

- Vinaykrishnan.

Loss of Faith

I am losing faith now in something that I have learnt and applauded and imbibed in my life. Communism. It's losing the stronghold it had in my mind over the last few years in belief, and over the last decade in thought process.

Upliftment of the masses, improvement in living conditions for the Proletariat, all these are now clichéd words, as I realise the actual tumult of the people who live in such a government. The agony of getting simple things done becoming so unimaginably difficult is proof in itself that they system is flawed at worst, and needs to be bespoke at best. Taking money and power from the upper economical strata of the society and distributing it to the people has only ultimately succeeded in making the people lazy and arrogant.

Not more than a couple of decades ago, Kerala was the main supplier of all vegetables to Tamil Nadu. Now, it is the opposite, with Kerala only sustaining due to the Tamil Nadu market. Fraudulently claiming that labour is the backbone of the Kerala Communist Society, (which it USED to be until recently), the Communist workers still go about parading themselves as the saviours of a land that, in reality, has all the saviours and protectors and redeemers in the general public itself.

Sorry Comrades, but we do not need YOU to protect us. In fact, we want protection FROM YOU.

Another simple example. I know a family who wanted to get their house items shifted from their rented apartment, to a flat of their own. They appointed a group of 3-4 people to get the job done. When moving the luggage on the truck, they were however stopped, and they had to pay some money to the Communist Party Labour Union because the workers in their stead were not Commie-registered. What kind of non-sense is this? I mean, first you say, that give power to the masses. Give work to the lay man. And then when we do, you go about charging us for it?! It’s either really stupid of you, or really stupid of you. Sure, you made a few quick bucks and the problem of booze for that night is solved. But is this really how you would bring progress in your life, or to the lives of the others around you? And is this really how the land would be redeemed? If it is, then it indeed is a land beyond redemption, scarred with not just the occasional, but the very frequent marks of violence, greed and foolishness.

What this system needs is a prosector, a prosecutor and a persecutor. And a lot of common sense.

Lal Salaam, they say. Sorry Saare, but I cannot offer my Salaams to you anymore.

- Vinaykrishnan.

Kazhchapaad

I'm confused. It's like I'm in the middle of the road. One side is lined with cacti and those small dolphin fountains, these alternatively arranged about 8 feet from each other. The other side is drearily bare of any vegetation or embellishment. And this road is leading to, and coming from, no where. So basically, it's like being on a road that I hate being on, and don't know about, both at the same time. Sounds crappy, right? Yeah. Imagine actually being there.

I thought that I would not have to deal with any more trifling situations. But I'm now right in the middle of one. It's weird. I mean, I know what I have to do. And I know what I should not do. I also know what I wish. But I'm just not sure whether all of this would ultimately culminate into a successful consequence. The all-and-ever-humbling end result. "Karm kar, phal ki aasha mat rakh." Bah... I wish I could ask this statement to kiss my ass.

I simply can wait now. I guess. I don't even know if I am making sense anymore. Or if it's the things around me that are so weird that even my making sense is utter non-sense. But in no case is the sense or non-sense around me, or about me, absolute. It is all relative. So I am not the only player in this game. There is another angle to this game. Another twist of the fates. Another roll of the dice. And that is where all of this gets so interesting.

I hope to someday explain all of this to you. And make you understand, that none of this, while entirely relevant now, is non-sense. But that it is all like a extremely difficult theorem, being narrated in reverse order, by a professor who is not speaking the same language as you.

Ende Kazhchapaad. Or should I say, My Perspective.

- Vinaykrishnan.

The Mixed Bag Indian

People have always told me that I actually live by the adage "When in Rome, live as the Romans". I was a Gujju for most of my life, and that too of various places. I was a Mithapurian at first, then was tagged a Kathiyawadi, then an Anandi, and sometimes even somewhere in between.

I left Gujarat, went to Kerala. Was there for 4 months, my longest stretch there. Before that I only used to go there for vacations and the likes. I took to being a Commie, I used to lap up all the Malayalam news channels and movie songs. I remember I used to sit at the Indian Coffee house close to my IPSR class and used to hear through the Commie meetings that took place. I remember clearly those animatedly rising wisps of coffee behind which I subversively hid and noticed all the proceedings and discussions on dogmas and actions, which became one of the reasons behind the formation of my thought process regarding politics, religion, people and life. As G.B. Shaw put it, "Any man who is not a communist at the age of twenty is a fool. Any man who is still a communist at the age of thirty is an even bigger fool."

But then Chandigarh happened from no where. It just came as quick as a wink, and I found myself in the land of the Paghris, huge people, Bhangra, chicken and alcohol. (Forgive me for stereotyping, but these are predominantly visible).

And I fell in love with this place. It was the perfect place for everything. Organized, clean, orderly, safe and secure, convenient - everything you look for in a place. I found a great group of people who not only are today part of my best friends, but also my guides, philosophers, confidantes and partners-in-crime.

The thing that I think has amazed me most is the music here. Yes, yes, most of the songs are about 3 things - women, alcohol and guns/fights. But there indeed are some amazing songs which truly hold your heart in a fist and make you gasp at their absolute brilliance. Some songs that talk about relationships, some that talk about folktales of love and valor, some that talk about life and change. It's all there. Some that make you want to stand up and forget everything about life and its worries, and just sway to the tune and beats.

The following are some of the most amazingly wonderful songs I have heard here:

1. Mirza - Sung by Sukhshinder Shinda, there is a version done by Hari, which is absolutely fabulous. Tells the story of Mirza, Sahibaan's lover. And a tragic tale it is too.
http://www.reverbnation.com/artist/artist_songs/347287

2. Maa - Malkit Singh has done an absolutely fabulous job. The lyrics do touch a few chords too.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m7vQztdLpMs (Don't think too much about the video though. Punjabi film-making needs to still come a long way).

3. Challa - Gurdas Maan. One of the best singers to ever grace the Punjabi music scene, this is the song that really touched me, especially when I learnt the meaning of the song.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zhDKEUYv6Q&feature=related (And yes, that is Raj Babbar).

4. Kiven mukhre ton nazaran hatawan - Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan Saab did this so beautifully. The music, lyrics and of course Nusrat Saab. Lethal combination truly. It's a long song, but the rise of the tempo with each stanza is so powerfully combined with the perfect mix of Nusrat Saab and the chorus. One cannot ever not like this song. It's so brilliant.
http://player.raag.fm/player/?browser=flash&pick[]=300138

5. Aaja ve Mahi - Hans Raj Hans. The song is so hauntingly beautiful. I actually felt as if I am calling out to my love to come to me for my eyes are waiting to fall on you since so long.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xSMML5YuO9c&p=9992E095C9D7D0C2&playnext=1&index=88

That's all I can think of right now. There are many more. I'll come up with some more soon. Till then, Proud to be a Gujju/Mallu/Punju Indian. :-)

- Vinaykrishnan.

Random Expressions (Again).

Every man goes through it, they say. Moments of such magnitude and eye-opening splendour, that everything else looks that bit less glamorous. I would hate to think that I might miss out on being nostalgic about those littler things that made my life have something to think about, but then in the grand scheme of things, it is these things that, in comparison to my current state of being, allow me to fully appreciate what life is all about. I remember being happy when I got myself a gift from my first salary. It was a lovely watch. A Mickey Mouse watch, infact. What with the white dial, and the hands of Mickey telling me the time. Not the plastic flap one, mind you. That I had when I was a kid. I think my parents got one each for my sister and me. This one was more refined. More childish, and yet more mature. Always, as Langdon (or should I say, Dan Brown), so eloquently put it, to remind me that there is a child in me, and that I always need to stay young at heart.

That's just one moment I remember fondly. There are a gazillion others. But now, with the torrent of emotions and feelings that I am drowning in, I really cannot say whether those will ever matter to me. I want them to. I want to hold onto them.

I guess I'll just have to wait to find out.

- Vinaykrishnan.