Curiosities and Candid Musings

There cannot be Happiness without Sadness. If Sadness never existed from the beginning; t hen Happiness would never be sought after like a treasure. If melancholy never ailed the heart; t hen the happy feet would have danced on-and-on in glee. Sadness is measured with Happiness and, Happiness with Sadness. In Sadness one seeks Happiness; And Sadness never in Happiness. Happiness and Sadness seen as measuring beauty; but Happiness and Sadness seen independently.

“ Marina Keegan's star was on the rise when she graduated magna cum laude from Yale in May 2012. She had a play that was to be produced at the New York International Fringe Festival and a job waiting for her at the New Yorker. Tragically, five days after graduation, Marina died in a car crash.” From one page to another as I read the essays and poems it hurt me to know that Marina is in a better place today and what a loss it is to Humanity not to have such a brilliant humane person with us. The Opposite of Loneliness is an exemplary piece only to confess that in her short yet eventful span of life, Marina lived a life with purpose and had the courage to defy the conventional path of life today which has been often overly romanticised by the constructed idea of success. She was like ‘most’ (note: most!) high spirited Young (often attacked as being idealists)- a last-minute all-nighter, a procrastinator (who got extremely hyped after reading  Coleridge - our very own underr...

Tea and biscuits on the kitchen table and we spoke about being in one’s early 30s and in mid 20s. It started with a question “Adi, I am scared to be 25, how did it feel for you?” And 25 to someone in his 30s feels fleeting, so much time to do many things!, chase dreams! Live!! and apparently 25 to someone in his 30s is ‘still young’. So then, does the ones in their 40s think the same about the 30 year olds?  Or are we all just full of sighs about the days we did not seize and envious of the ones who still have time? A few months ago, I sat in a deep conversations with a 90 year old flamboyant lady. She spoke with vivid clarity and energy, constantly drawing me back to think of myself as an aged old rock while her gleaming eyes with expression still reflected her salad days at Sydney.  Later that evening, I poured  praises about her to a 50 something year old uncle who smirked “Some old woman!” . At that moment, I saw in him a poor old man so ...