Reminiscing the happy memories comes with a price. The sad moments linger with their despondent faces bordering the happy ones. The past few weekends have been such cascading experiences. I played caroms and cards, the activities that signified some happy times with my close knit family. Though now, the family lost two very important and significant people, leaving a crippled family with patched up hearts, the fond memories still warm the heart. I have not been good at caroms, ever. I remember my uncle pocketing my caroms just to encourage me to play another game. I was not a sore loser. I learnt humility at a very early age, thanks to my pig-headedness. A very good friend taught me that being grounded is more important than being confident, by taking me up on my over confident challenge of giving her a half round lead in the three round race and beating me by a couple of steps. Though it was a couple of steps, it still was a loss that I never forgot. It taught me to remember that, no...
Musings of my inward-eye...