My forward moving life

On an average, I get five forwards per day (too few? or too many?)... And I diligently read all of them. What a nice break to have during work! Cute babies served on a platter... the real definitions of friendship and love and trust and life... the various misfortunes that can befall if you don’t forward that forward to ten other people...how Amy Bruce is still battling some life threatening ailment since 1995... The happy cricketers when a fan’s top slips up... the virtual flowers... the provocations... the humor... the future in the sun signs... the talents pets can possess... aahh! Where else is such entertainment! Then, sometimes, I feel like cooking up a forward, sending it to random people and finding out how long does the forward take to return to the inbox of originator (something like six degrees of FW:?). I don’t know... but in next few days, if you receive a forward which has a girl banging her head against a computer, then probably I started that one, and that girl is ME and she is requesting you to STOP sending the forwards, because seriously, she could die if she banged her head for too long!

But on not-so-unrelated note, all my past forward-reading finally bore fruits today, when I received a forward which had poetry in it. Yes, actual poetry, by a real poet! I discovered a poet and some poems. Read this one... because if you are in two-minds to forward or not to forward, Piet Hein provides a psychological tip.

Whenever you're called on to make up your mind,
And you're hampered by not having any,
The best way to solve the dilemma, you'll find,
Is simply by spinning a penny.
No - not so that chance shall decide the affair,
While you're passively standing there moping;
But the moment the penny is up in the air,
You suddenly know what you're hoping.

True Love

"You know, I shouldn't have said no to him... "
"Do you love him?"
"Not really, but he does…and I want to respect love..."
"Then respect the love you experience. Only."
"Hmmm... I feel he will curse me and I will never be able to find true love again..."
"Oh come on! This world is dripping with true love... there are puddles of true love you have to skip while going to work... there are leaves of true love hanging on evergreen trees... true love is in the water mixed with chlorine... true love..."
"Soma, I am serious!"
"True love overflows in your serious talks... True love seeps into the roads you walk... True love is in the music you hear... true love is weaved in the dresses you wear..."
"Will you shut up your nonsense?"
"No, true love is like mines in the minesweeper... just step on the wrong block and true love is waiting to be discovered..."
"Soma... CUT YOUR SARCASTIC CRAP!!!"

[And then this conversation ended, because, you see, it is rather difficult to philosophize while nursing an injury, caused by a bottle flung at you. Which was full of water. Water which had chlorine in it. And of course, true love.]

1/365

Saturday mornings are sleepy heads
But today, while reading paper in bed
A sort of feminist awakening was staged
Woman's Day popped out of every page

I got enlightened enough to realize
I am a woman and I have my rights
Empowered, equal, daring and firm
My head was full of fancy terms

I went out, shopped and gloated
Fed my dreams till they bloated
Feticides, dowry, abuse aside
My day was on an estrogen high

Until I returned tired and spent
And haywire all my thoughts went
I wondered would it be too vain
To have a man massage this ego pain
----------------------------------------------------------------------

Aah! So much so for feminism today
But at least I have this special day
And I am glad if men feel out of gear
Don't these ______* have 364 per year

* Fill as per your comfort level.
I would have filled in 'bastards'

Review: The Book Thief

On the usual day, death steals lives. In this brilliant novel, it does a lot more. It narrates a mesmerizing tale... a story so well-written that it grips you, hypnotizes you and transports you to another world... even though it is the world you would hate to be in... the world of Nazi Germany, of discrimination, of Hitler, of air raids, of lost love, of broken human spirit and of foolish undying human hope. But don't get me wrong. This is not your typical World War II battle fiction. In fact, war is treated as a backdrop, something which is a routine, on which you have no control, like maybe weather.

This is a story spanning five years in the life of a girl named Liesel, who steals books because she wants to befriend words. She is young, she is spirited, and she has a sense of intuitive justice that is innate in children. What she learns though is that in the world which is completely under someone else's control, you can still make your own rules and live by it... you can choose your own allies and enemies. And also, stars have the power of burning your eyes if you dreamingly stare at the sky for too long. This book also gives an interesting perspective on death (in an extremely non-morbid way), how it is haunted by humans and how integral it is a part of life.

This is one of the few books which can be aptly categorized under 'literary fiction' because Markus Zusak has written it so well. The style of writing makes this book simply un-put-down-able. Go for it!

Aging: Gracefully...

First one is such a discovery!
You can't believe your eyes
Horrified, look in mirror twice
Is it time for those age-lies?

Second one is a confirmation
To end the youth jubilation
Bring on old-is-gold adage
It is start of middle age

By the third, it's a routine
Of denying the reality-being
Always with plucker in hand
To pull out that gray strand

"Old age ain't no place for sissies" - Mencken