My echo, My shadow and Me...

Do you have any language preference for your thoughts? I mean to ask do you think in any specific language. Not un-usual, until a few years back I used to think in my mother tongue. There was a sudden change when I had to shift to Bhopal in search of a career. In order to adjust with the changed language environment I have had to change the language preferences for my thought process. Then only I realised what difference it can make to you, thinking in your mother tongue and language that you have acquired. It was some kind of a jerk and my mind waves, thoughts often stumbled making me feel helpless. You search for your vocabulary for the perfect word and it comes up with a blank screen, forcing you to go mute in between conversations. The only option is to use a word that somehow resemble. You use that option. At times the one in conversation with you either feels offended or burst into laughter. I have got the chance of becoming "a laughing stalk" numerous times so far. At

I usually don't peep into the affairs of others around me. But I failed to avoid noticing that the girl (in her early twenties) sitting next to me was dozing off with a book open in her hands. Allan Pease's "Body Language: How to Read Others' Thoughts by Their Gestures"...I felt the curves on my face taking the shape of a big smile. Perhaps it's the period of life when almost everyone craves for a peep into the life of the people around. I too tried my best to acquire the magic power of reading one without letting know that I was doing that. It started with my reading of a piece of Allan Pease's article in the magazine Competition Success Review about the importance of the ability to read body language of people, how mastering it can make things different for one, improve communication skills etc etc...inspired deep into my heart, I tried to grasp everything I can get on the topic. I n the same process I came in terms with the art of analysing handwritings

Let's celebrate... Thanks Motivated Motions

The other day, Rita posted a comment on my blog, "You've been tagged. Check my blog." The tag was to list six of my wired habits! Hey what about the scale to measure the amount of weirdness? I do not know whether the habits I am listing are wired or not...but just following my mind... 1. I like to believe people. I like to be able to have faith on people around me. I believe, except for a few who have the habit of making phony statements, people generally do not fake or trick. Back in my university days, once I was in a long queue in my bank to deposit ten thousand bucks. I was in a hurry and the bank security person offered to deposit that on my behalf. One moment and the man inside me said, "Yes". My friends said it was foolishness on my part. Even I thought so. But I was not surprised that he did not tarnish my faith. 2. I have a heart weaker than my brain. Cause, I have used my heart thousands of times more than my brain so far. And I know for sure, it pai

"It's not figures, but the trend that is important." "Mere millions and billions mean nothing. Weigh them against one another. Compare the present with the past, read gaps and find a projection for the future...you need to predict what might be the status after five or ten years. So my son, go back to work and redo the slides. You have eight more hours...” My biological ALU gave a stark reaction to the instructions. I have to deconstruct the rigor of past seven days and reconstruct in one day! In the next eight hours, I would be struggling to crack the millions and billions, extracting growth rates and compounded growth rates...it was a race with the second's hand of the clock...it seemed all of the hands of the clock were competing among them, running at a rate higher than sixty seconds per minute... As I was crack my head to find the trends to project everything to the year 2010, some of my wicked brain cells infused one of the most meaningless and cliched ques

The idea of writing this post came to me, the other day, during our lunch time nonsense-talks. Our usual lunch itinerary at 'Village Food Court' says you place an order and wait at least for 40 minutes, for the food to be served. To utilize this interval, we start something you name leg-pulling. Luckily Neeraj never min ds being the target of all the activities in these sessions and consume all the bullets fired on him with his usual baffled calmness. Vikas had a presentation at the FMC that day which I missed (!). "I was all prepared to give Neeraj proper answer for the questions he asks. But I was surprised that he did not come up with a single questi on today. Probably it was a good day for him," said Vikas in jest. Neeraj is famous (dreaded!) for the questions he usually asks during presentations and lectures. As they went on with the pastime, actively participated by Keshav, Naveen and Amar, I started processing the question in my mind. "Why do we ask ques

After a long time, I noticed the scar on my right elbow again. A one and half inch cut mark, almost fading away. You will not be able to identify it until and unless I tell you beforehand... I was just preparing to leave for school when Latu came running. "There's a wounded Neelkanth lying under that Sal tree. She is struggling for breath. Come fast." I saw tears in her eyes. Next moment we were running in the direction of th e tree. Often I used to get information of wounded birds from my friends or the elder ones who knew my craze for these winged creatures. Most of them were catapulted by the tribal children and left to die. I would struggle to keep them alive with the little primary aid skills I have had...most of them did not respond to my treatment and died. Every time a bird died in my hands I would promise myself not to treat wounded birds any more. It's painful seeing them dying. But next time I'm informed I would just rush like a fire brigade.