Random Thoughts

Novak Djokovic, the defending champion beats Roger Federer 7-6, 6-7, 6-4, 6-3, and slams his dream of eighth Wimbledon title to grass (pun intended). What a match it was? Watching Novak play was absolutely thrilling. And watching Federer, it looked like even God tends to bow to mortals once in a while. But, seriously, how good was Novak? Roger Federer, in this Wimbledon has not been his usual self. His backhands have found the nets more often than not, his aces were not as recurrent as they once were and though he volleyed quite a lot, his lazy elegance was not as eloquent as it once had been. Yet, he still conquered the court and stole people’s heart. His semifinals win against Andy Murray was vintage Federer. If people had their say on the Centre Court, for the final, the match would have gone well into the fifth set with Federer claiming his eighth Wimbledon title. But alas, Novak Djokovic ruled the court! He played aggressively, not budging an inch and his base line play was fe...

I am not in the right frame of mind, at this very moment. My body is weak, my defenses are low, physically, I am exhausted and mentally, I don't seem to have the strength to wake up the next day. When I sleep, I wonder if I can wake up tomorrow and more importantly, if I want to wake up tomorrow. When I wake up, I wonder how I intend to get through the day and when the night befalls, I am thankful for the days closure. It is easy to give up, to close my eyes to the world and let myself wallow. And because it is easy, I need to fight, to push. I am trying, but for one moment, just one moment, I want to succumb, to weep, to mourn. Yet, I cannot seem to find that solace that grants me that freedom of expression. A good cry may help, but that is not my way. I cannot seem to find tears for pain that cuts too deep. I cry for silly things, I cry when I am angry, but when my heart feels like it is about to rip itself out, how can few tears assuage its feeling? Tears cannot make me forget, ...

I was looking through some old snaps, old pals, old places, places I have been to, old memories. I make myself sound old, I feel it in my bones too, that I am just a step away from being a battered old ram! But these old memories did bring in a sense of accomplishment and joy. They brought a sense of satisfaction and experience. They also brought a heavy heart. I was looking through the albums, living through the memory each snap unfolded, the moment captured in its rapture. Some made me sad, some made me smile, some made me laugh and some filled me with satisfaction. Overall, it was a good positive vibe. Yet, this question of where I belong, popped into my head, making me pause mid way through, making me go beyond the superficial. Do I belong here, among the lifeless stuffed toys that I hugged for the picture? Do I belong here, the composed smile that did not reach my eyes? Do I belong here, the careless swing in my body, standing on my tip toes, in the middle of no where? I always fe...

"Something was comforting about strangers—it seemed like they would exist forever as the same, unknowable mass." ― Megan Boyle He sat on a park bench with War and Peace and is engrossed in it. When it was getting dark, he closed the book and became aware of the world around him. At sixty, having read the book a million times now, he should have been less engrossed with it. And yet, he just could not. While still thinking about the book, he looked around, noticing for the first time that someone else sat alongside him, on the farther corner of the bench. He noticed that she was just sitting quietly, looking about the park, when she suddenly turned her head and offered a polite smile. She held his gaze for a minute, when he returned her smile, before nodding a good bye and going her way. It was a Thursday evening. She made her way back to her home. Later that night, she settled on her bed, with a book in her hand. She suddenly remembered the stranger reading a book and was surp...

Sport is about passion. And when its cricket and involves Indian fans, it is passion laced with madness. Our cricketers are our heroes. Thanks to the unbelievable turn around by Kapil Devils, way back, cricket continued to woo and inspire a lot of Indians. And when the world cup is won on the home turf with the command performance in 2011, as though it belonged to India, #Wewontgiveitback was expected to be coined for 2015. Realistically, though, when the likes of Sourav, Sachin, Rahul could not get it for India, the likes of Kohli, Raina, MSD would have to perform a miracle to get it. And miracle happened once, in 2011. Was it foolishness to expect it again? But, that is the way of the fan. We live with our cricketers ups and downs, with their tantrums of form and no-form. And they live with our admiration and despondence. The cycle goes on and on, the same fan who is throwing tantrums now, will hail their names when the next series begins. Well, at least most of them. And then, there...

Was looking for some inspiration to write anything other than book reviews. Found this interesting writing challenge on Daily Post and gave it a try... ------------- Water exists in many forms - ice, water and steam. It changes its form based on its surroundings and factors that influence its core. What suits me best, would be water, in that, most of the time, I flow along, whatever the setting may be. As a kid with working parents and in a joint family, it was necessary for me to be able to hold my tears, anger, frustration. Many a time, despite the feeling of anger or grief, it was imperative to be happy and play along. What used to work for me then, was to draw on a piece of paper, until I could get a handle on myself before being presentable to folks in the house or to run laps in a playground until I could no longer hold breath in my lungs, when I would just settle down and breathe; and with every breath, I would feel lighter. Part of the reason, to hold on to my emotions wa...