I have been surprised multiple times today. So much that I have had to take out time to put it in writing because I didn’t want to lose the essence of this feeling that is with me since last night. It feels as if I am on a constant high since the two beers I had last night. By the way, I rarely drink more than one 50 cl each night when I am in Dubai.
I am surprised by the amount of energy I am showing of late at work. Taking back to back flights for work, working tirelessly, getting responsibilities like never before and ending up getting things done, one way or another. Future has never looked busier, if not better. Continue reading “Surprised, not so much.”
I have always thought of storytelling as an art. An art of depicting emotions beautifully and hypnotically through one’s actions and words that the listener finds himself as a part of the story being told. It is an art of converting a rather boring story into a fairy tale, and sometimes even more. It is an art of picking a story lying in a stinking drain under the footpath and placing it in the center of the temple for readers to worship. It is an art which he boasted about possessing, until he realized the truth. Continue reading “Death Of A Storyteller”
By Aman Chawla
There isn’t a better moment in a man’s life, than holding a girl in his arms, and if the girl is a 6 years old baby, words fail to confine his feelings. It was the same feeling for him when Navya was in his arms. She was not sleepy, or maybe she was, but was definitely in no mood to go to bed. Which daughter in the world would want to miss the joy of staying in the arms of her father?
“Dad, what does an adopted child mean?” she asked in a husky voice.
He paused for a moment and asked “Where did you hear this?”
“Today grandma was telling mumma that I am just an adopted child. Tell daddy, what does it mean?” Continue reading “Adopted”