Showing posts with label #Blogchatter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #Blogchatter. Show all posts

February 15, 2017

#BlogLove - Celebrating 8 Years of Blogging But...

I take on the baton of Blog Love from Stephen !

#Amreading, #Amwriting, #Blog, #Blogchatter, #Blogging, #blogiversary, #blogversary, #Emotions, #FirstLove, #Love, #Memories, Anniversary, Emotions, Time,


Anniversaries are commemorative of the years gone by and a way to feel nostalgic about the memories built over time. Both of these parts are equally significant in this celebration. While the amount of time spent is a great memory, the productivity in that particular span of time cannot be overlooked.

I have written about my blogging journey in the past. I celebrate 15th February because I cherish these years and this part of my life very much. But as much as I want to climb up in levels as a blogger, it still remains a "hobby". The past year has dawned a steep sense of this fact in me. While 2016 was beautiful and I have shared that vividly on social media, it did pose a challenge for me to pencil in blogging in my schedule. I had to work harder than ever before to juggle work, personal life and blogging. I couldn't even manage an average of 2 posts a month, let alone taking it to new levels like daily blogging etc.  It has made me wonder, if, say 5 years from now, I would be able to do this any more or not, if I stay a part timer.

So, this year for my anniversary post, instead of reiterating history, I sought suggestions from fellow bloggers and writers who do this part time too. This is one part I would be very proud of - building and keeping fantastic relationships with the "who's who" of the Indian blogging. It took me only an email which shared my idea and perspectives with them and all of the kind suggestions came pouring in.

Whether I will celebrate 9th or the 10th #Blogversary or not, I would live with the satisfaction of being a part of this fantastically close knit community of bloggers, for as long as I have!

With that said, Happy Anniversary to #WritefullyYours! Thanks for all the good times, chances for expression and the love that came in!

The floor is now open for geniuses with their ideas!

Kala Ravi

I guess it is no great brainwave I am sharing but it's just that blogging comes as a respite to one's daily struggles and strife. I blog when I am overwhelmed with the urge to vent out thoughts crowding my head. When I put down these thoughts on my blog, I find a sense of relief and tremendous satisfaction. I would say it is a therapeutic or cathartic experience for me, every time I do a post. So my dear friend, just blog as if you were letting out your thoughts, raves or rants into the ears of a patient friend and a chore it will never seem to be! And like a good friend, your blog will cheer you up with the comments from your readers, keep you motivated and egg you on to do more, do better each time you post.

I suggest, every time you are inspired, just jot down the basic idea, a few lines or whatever strikes you and later refer to these when you are sitting down to do a post. Evernote, I've heard helps with this, maybe you could give it a try.
No regulation, no time management in place yet! But just make a conscious effort to be in sync with what's trending in the blogging world. Most of the times, I get jittery seeing the whole world putting up post after post, but it also ensures I come up with one of my own for every hundred I come across. The post takes just an hour to put down, if you have all the framework, keynotes in your head in advance. Polishing n editing are equally important. So overall two hours/post/week should be good enough provided the wheels are turning through the week, cooking up the steam for it!


I truly love writing and blogging. Since I also work in the writing domain, I guess, blogging becomes second nature to me. Hence I haven't really found it that difficult to blog. Actually it provides me with a great vent and an outlet where I get great support and suggestions. I would tell you to not fret too much. Enjoy what you write and only write when you find time. I can never write under pressure and I would suggest that you do the same. Just do it for pure enjoyment and happiness.


When I joined for post graduation in 2007, I actually wrote a 'farewell post' for the blog, sure I wouldn't have the hours to spare. I didn't actually. But I ended up still writing. And I've written through PG, when bedridden & in excruciating pain unable to move a limb, in operation Theatres and at all hours. And here, 12 years after I wrote my first post as an insecure Mbbs intern, I'm still writing as a specialist. 
My advice - don't let your thoughts go to waste. When an idea comes to you, note it down in your mobile. I have used Evernote for over half a decade and all those ideas still sit there. Often we get our ideas at the most insane moments (lying awake at night, stuck in a cramped bus)  and forget about them when we are actually free to write. So jot it down in points when it comes to you. Develop them at leisure later on. 
Find what you have to say, what you would like to talk about. And tell it. 


Congratulations on the commendable milestone. 8 years must feel magical! Here's raising a toast to the double digits. I share your love for blogging and I can imagine how difficult it is to stay dedicated. I know I have struggled. And then one fine day I gave myself the permission to take a break. Just like we head for a vacation from time to time to recharge our batteries, a break from the blog is not that bad an idea. Since then, the winter months are a little slow for me. Also because it is the most festive time of the year, at that time I want to make memories with loved ones and not be a social media addict. I have also realised after a break, my writing is more focused and my ideas are sharper. I manage to cut out the noise from my thoughts.
You found your special someone this past year. Life will happen. Be easy on yourself. You compete with no one but you. This is your race. You decide what is your priority and work according to that. There is no one right way to do this. You will learn on the job. And if you are real lucky, you will have an online diary for your kids and grandkids to refer to someday.
 

Subha Rajagopal

The biggest challenge a part-time blogger faces is time crunch. That too if you are a working mother with a full-time job, the odds are not in your favor. By the time the daily meetings are over and deadlines are met, there is no more energy left! You cannot shirk your family duties nor your official responsibilities. Only way to save time is to cut down the 'fat' in your personal time. Limit your time for any activity you feel is unproductive. That is the only way to make time for blogging.
It is a day-on-day arrangement. Let me share with you how I am writing it now.
Today being a Saturday, is an official holiday for me. But no, I wasn't free. Far from it!
My son had a school function and half my day was consumed in it. The second half of the day involved taking him to his activity class and visiting my in-laws.
All this was in addition to the cooking, cleaning and laundry work that is reserved for the weekends.By the time I could sit to write this, it is already 10 pm here. It was just the resolve to keep writing that has made me sit and write it now.

Anindya Sundar Basu


Wishing you a happy 8th and many many more. There will be years where it wont go as you had wished but that's okay. You have been an inspiration and I wish someday I can write like you but great knowing you buddy. Thanks for all the support and I remain indebted for your support. As me and my wife both run Pikturenama and have a 5 year old kid at home, it gets hectic and taxing. We also write for eazydiner as food critics for kolkata so in the midst of all this its hard to make out time but since beginning we have been clear about the fact that the blog should not get neglected. Its a mad race against time and no one else so we need to sacrifice a lot also. I like to keep it simple. Consistency is the key in Blogging and its not every time you will write a post that will be viral but unless you write you will never know and if you stop writing you will lose the habit of writing. I am sure you know all this being in the 'business' for 8 years but just thought of sharing my thoughts in this happy occasion.
Once again congrats on 8th and thanks for being there.




#Amreading, #Amwriting, #Blog, #Blogchatter, #Blogging, #blogiversary, #blogversary, #Emotions, #FirstLove, #Love, #Memories, Anniversary, Emotions, Time,



I pass on the baton of Blog Love to Subha

November 26, 2016

#26/11 - This Time I will Remember



#India,#Indian,#26/11,#Mumbai,#NeverForget,#IndianArmy, Mumbai,#Public,#Emotions,#Politics,#Government,#Police,#Blog,#Blogchatter,#Blogging,#Amreading,#Amwriting,#Taj,#Leopold,#Oberoi,#CST,#NarimanPoint
Image: oneindia.com

26/11 was personal for me. No, I wasn't personally struck by tragedy on that day, but it did blur the lines of whose tragedy is mine and whose is not. I had never been to Mumbai, still haven't, and didn't know CST or Leopold Cafe or the Taj Hotel. Quite embarrassingly, even at the age of 21, I was not aware of any Jewish population in India either. Yet, those images and those people seemed, known. No other terrorist act has had that impact on public life. In 8 years since 26/11, only #UriAttack probably comes close to have created such waves of public emotions. The terrorist infiltration had come to our backyard and this no longer seemed like a war, just for the army. 

The reason I am focusing on the aftermath, rather than the attack itself, is because an attack does not fundamentally change the course of a nation; The reactions to the attack do! 
How we react and rise or fall, determines the destiny of a country.

And that is where 26/11 feels personal.

Every year, this day brings a ripple of introspection. I always knew we would survive a terrorist attack; The nation would not lose itself to separatists; The economy wouldn't crash and people would not lose their belief in being safe. That is what being Indian entails. But I remember 26/11, for this was the day, when India evolved. We united against the terror, never to back down. The public learnt to accept that, for all the ugliness in our polity, the governments and the army still know how to protect us, the best. India could have stumbled and crumbled under the weight of vengeance but we chose to act how a Republic should, and for that, I am immensely proud. 

The words of Prasoon Joshi, a remarkable poet and noted Bollywood lyricist, sum up the emotions of that fateful day with haunting beauty. These words are the reason why I feel so personally connected with 26/11.

Hope they will resonate with you too -

THIS TIME I WILL REMEMBER...
A MOTHER CARESSING HER DEAD SON'S FOREHEAD AND PREPARING HIM PRE-MATURELY FOR HIS FINAL DESTINATION. 

THIS TIME I WILL REMEMBER...
INNOCENT DINERS LINED UP AND SHOT AT POINT BLANK, CAUGHT IN SOMEBODY ELSE'S WAR.

THIS TIME I WILL REMEMBER... 
BLOOD SPLATTERED WALLS WITH GROTESQUE IMAGERY, FRESHLY BURNT FLESH, SHATTERED MIRRORS AND BROKEN LIVES,

THIS TIME I WILL REMEMBER... 
A MOTHER AND HER TWO YOUNG KIDS CHARRED BEYOND RECOGNITION WHILE THE DAD PUT PUBLIC GOOD AHEAD OF THE PERSONA,

THIS TIME I WILL REMEMBER...
GUN TOTTING TERRORISTS CREATING MAYHEM ON THE STREETS, TARGET PRACTICING AT A RAILWAY STATION.

THIS TIME I WILL REMEMBER...
BACKPACKERS AT A CAFÉ OR RECEPTIONIST AT A HOTEL REDUCED TO PIECES FOR NO REASON.

THIS TIME I WILL REMEMBER...      

#India,#Indian,#26/11,#Mumbai,#NeverForget,#IndianArmy, Mumbai,#Public,#Emotions,#Politics,#Government,#Police,#Blog,#Blogchatter,#Blogging,#Amreading,#Amwriting,#Taj,#Leopold,#Oberoi,#CST,#NarimanPoint

#India,#Indian,#26/11,#Mumbai,#NeverForget,#IndianArmy, Mumbai,#Public,#Emotions,#Politics,#Government,#Police,#Blog,#Blogchatter,#Blogging,#Amreading,#Amwriting,#Taj,#Leopold,#Oberoi,#CST,#NarimanPoint
Sand Art by Sudrashan Patnaik
Source - http://bit.ly/2fjbrDB


P.S. In February 2009, I got angry at public apathy about #26/11 after a frustrating encounter in my college. The words of Prasoon Joshi struck a chord with me and I jotted down an emotional post on my old blog. That was the first time #blogging seemed a perfect medium to share, even vent, my emotions.


October 26, 2016

#Blogchatter : #Blogbuddy 3.0 - One For All and All For One !

That constant yearning for writing something new; Being preoccupied till it's done; The frustrations of Writer's Block; The elation of just finishing a post; The immense satisfaction of knowing that people read it and found it a story or a point of view worth telling are just some of the stages that have been a constant for me for a long while now.

7 years, to be precise!


But make no mistake, everything else associated with blogging has changed!

This is the part where I am going to sound like an old man. Trust me, I am not! But I can’t help the reminiscing, when it comes to blogging.

Back in the day (Yo Yo Grandpa, in the house!) blogging was just about two simple things – expression and feedback. I remember writing my posts, from PoliticallyIncorrect, in my hostel room and then sending emails with the link to a group of about 20 people. All that mattered was for those 20 people to read that post and comment on it. Not that my entire readership was just those people, but the concept of “hits” had not, well, hit home yet! The “word of mouth” publicity was unbelievable, largely because it was a University and Hostel set up. The satisfaction of comments cannot be stressed more. In a world where there were barely any smart phones or free Wi-Fi in hostel rooms and Sify “cyber cafes” still charged an upward of  ₹30 per hour, logging in multiple times a day to check on every comment and replying back, gave immense contentment.

Things changed rapidly, post 2010, when blogging was no longer, just a hobby. It got elevated to a life choice and even a profession.
Some made it big in the Bull Run, some dropped out, and most, including yours truly, hung around, somewhere in the middle.
The most important reason that I am an active @Blogchatter member is because it’s a great platform that combines the nostalgia of blogging with the need of changing times. Its focus on community building through the weekly chats and the #Blogbuddy program, is today’s version of sending out emails to people with the blog link.
With leaving India, I had left behind great opportunities of networking with fellow bloggers. I left when blogging had started to become big there. I can neither be a part of the lavish and extravagant bloggers’ meets nor can I win any sponsored contests that are commonplace in India now. (Thus depriving my mother of many a “Sharma ji ka beta car jeet laya blogging mein!” moments!)

That’s when #Blogchatter comes into play for me. It stands out among many blogging forums out there in being personal. It lets me be me, while reminding of what needs to be done to stay current and relevant. What I can be is a #Blogbuddy to a select group of dedicated writers with similar goals and shortcomings. I can share my experience and learn from them. The certainty of having a bankable group of people to fall back on is a great motivation to keep moving forward!

Therefore, I am a #Blogbuddy with #Blogchatter !

I had a great year with Blogbuddy 2.0. I am going to be friends with my previous group for life! I am so grateful to them that I am speechless, talking about it. Thank you, #WriteHouse for a fantastic year!

#Blogchatter, #Blogging, #Blog, Bloggers, instablogger, Blogbuddy, #Amwriting, Politics, Love, #Writer, write, Expression, Motivation, Emotions, #Memories, Memory,


I am entering another phase of Blogbuddy with similar expectations and hopefully with greater wisdom.
Go Team #BlogBusters

Let the games begin !

#Blogchatter, #Blogging, #Blog, Bloggers, instablogger, Blogbuddy, #Amwriting, Politics, Love, #Writer, write, Expression, Motivation, Emotions, #Memories, Memory,






January 7, 2016

Flowers


#Blog, #Blogchatter, #ChildLabor, #Fiction, #Kolkata, #Photoblog, #Prompt, #ShortStories, Blog, Blogging, Fiction, Kolkata, Photo, Prompt, Short Stories,

Mallik Ghat Flower Bazaar, Kolkata
Pic Courtesy : http://www.pikturenama.com 

Why are you here? What do you do, again?
I am a documentary film maker.
Docu.., what ?
Docu-men-tary. I make films.
Like Karan Johar?
A little different. But yes, kind of the same thing.
But we never see you on TV or theater? Why are you here?
I want to make a docu...umm..film..on the flower market.
Did you see Chennai Express? Shahrukh Bhai is amazing! Do you know him?

......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

He looked back to get his answer but turned back midway. That was an abrupt end to the curiosity and questions of my rickshaw driver. I am sure he was convinced that a man dressed like me, who has never even been on TV, despite being a filmmaker, cannot possibly know the King of Bollywood. I am confident I saw a smirk on his face when he dropped me at Asia's largest wholesale flower market.

Mallik Ghat Flower Bazaar, Kolkata.

To call something chaotic in Kolkata would be redundant.  But it still has a strange serenity in it. I have struggled to find such harmonized disorder in the Mumbais and Delhis of the world.  "Order" is an incomplete and  mortal story. The entropy of the Universe would catch up with it eventually. "Disorder", on the other hand, is self sustaining and ever propagating. It is the closest "absolute" entity that Nature offers. It engulfs stillness of every moment on its way of becoming the sole force of the Universe. I hunt for stories in such pandemonium. People who become accustomed to finding peace in chaos present the most dogged and honest face of humanity.
It is in this quest that I travel and explore stories in the busiest, noisiest and, seemingly, unlikeliest of the places.

And so, instead of making a documentary about  the Howrah Bridge, I came here.

One understands the true difference between "reachable" and "approachable" in India, only while trying to create something. Thanks to the over advertised advancement that we have made as a nation, we can reach to almost every corner of the country. But try making a neighborhood within your approach to accomplish something, and it's a different story altogether. So, first order of business was to find my "handler".

But I was awestruck by Mallik Bazaar. The beauty in this dingy Bazaar was astounding. It was not the obvious kind of beauty that one notices instantly but the one that grows on you and stays forever. It was not the high school crush who tickles sensations for a bit, but the peace of a woman one desires to wake upto for life. The roads were laden with flowers of every kind. The canvas of Mallik Bazaar was painted in bright orange by tens of thousands of Marigolds . Roses, Jasmines and Lilies appeared sporadically like colorful birds in the morning sky. I began to immerse myself in the tranquility of colors amidst the haphazardness.
    
Suddenly, a  tempo whizzed past me, hurling abuses at me in chaste Bengali, while I stood frozen in the middle of the road. I realized that I was in the thick of the action and the director in me was switched on with that jolt. I started looking for Pushpak, a young Bollywood aspirant, and my handler, who was to meet me in the Bazaar Eventually, he found me and started to show me around while I managed my handheld and the stories started unfolding.

We met  Ikhlaq, who claimed to make sales of over ₹10000 in a day but complained about the lack of hygiene in the area. He seemed worried that he would catch Malaria and wanted to switch businesses. But another businessman, known by the moniker "Marwari",  seemed hopeful. He was happy with the way the Bazaar operated and wanted to have a retail shop in the main city as well. A few inquired about the new trend of people ordering flowers on "computer" and rued losing business to the fake educated types!

After about an hour of recording and interviews we proceeded towards the largest shop of the Bazaar, owned by a certain Seth. He had already been notified by Pushpak and was expecting us. He greeted us with refreshing sharbat with rose petals in it. Seth had been in the business for over 35 years and claimed to be one of the biggest business owners of the city.

He talked at length about Horticulture. "Not every bud blossoms into a flower. One must have the eye to spot which [one] would, and that simple trick differentiates me form the rest of them", he bragged. When I asked him how he managed the supply chain of a fresh product I saw his eyes sparkle. He must be proud of his business skills, I thought. He proudly told us how articulate he has to be supplying  to nearly all the temples and mosques in the city. Marigolds to the temples and Lilies to the mosque. No mix up there!

He shouted something in Bengali and before I could ask Pushpak to translate, 4 children came running out from the back of his shop. They were all 10-12 years old boys with flimsy clothes covering them. They were sweating profusely and one look at their hands made it clear that they must have been weaving garlands. I looked behind them and realized they had come up from a basement behind the shop. He proudly pointed at them and said this was his business model. The kids collected the flowers from the farms in the morning and brought them to the Bazaar. They sorted them, made piles of them according to the orders. If a special order for garlands or wreaths or weddings came along, they would make them. Then they carried the piles back to a middleman who distributed them further. Pushpak told me that would be around a 50 km trip for the kids per day. Since every corner of the city was in reach, it looked easy to the businessman. He paid them ₹30 per day.

I tried talking to the kids, via Pushpak, but they looked tired, scared and in a hurry. I turned to Seth and asked why doesn't he eliminate the middleman and maximizes his profits. Seth looked at me in astonishment and then looked at Pushpak as if telling him how could I even ask that question.

"These children aren't allowed to enter the temples". Seth  answered.

"What about mosques? They can deliver there and save you some money, right?"

"Saab, these kids are not allowed anywhere."

He said that with no remorse. I looked at the children who had been standing quietly all this while. Something in me told me that they understood the conversation between Seth and I. They smiled at me and went back down.

Harmonized Disorder.

On the way back, I had a last look at Mallik Bazaar. Seth  was right, not every bud blossoms into a flower. The corners of the flower laden roads were littered with unnoticed squashed buds.

......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

This post was written in response to #FotoFriday1 a photo-blogprompt, an initiative of  team #BlogbuddyWritehouse @Blogchatter
#FotoFriday prompt posts will be put up on the first Friday of every month by team members of #BlogbuddyWritehouse 

This week's #FotoFriday1 fabulous photo-prompt 
Image credit goes to my super-talented #blogbuddy Anindya Basu 


Team #Blogbuddy Writehouse:





December 25, 2015

Away From Home...

religion,belief,merry christmas,christianity,islam,her,she,love,bible,father,church,mass,heaven,home,child,mother,jesus,blogchatter,blog,amwriting,amreading


"Where's home, My Child ?"

Having traversed the arduous, yet remarkable, path of life, in which she had donned roles, as varied as imagination itself;

always transforming, at times not so seamlessly too;

carrying the burden of definitions and adjectives all along;

from a young woman with uncontained ambitions to a homemaker with none; from being someone who dreamt through the innocent eyes of a  toddler to a loner with a plutonic future; from a struggling  single mother to a gracefully ageing success story;

she had traveled far away from home, still seeking a welcome;

Hitherto

She looked at him, and saw Him.

"Where's home, My Child ?"

"Right here, Father. Right here."


.....................................................................................................................................................................................................

More on the thought of #AwayFromHome on this #blog -


.....................................................................................................................................................................................................

Thanks #blogbuddy Aditi for your inputs!

Pic Courtesy - www.beliefnet.com

Today's #blogchatter prompt is 'Away from home' Write on this prompt and connect with us here in the linky below.
Blogchatter is a twitter initiative where bloggers from all spheres connect, engage and support each other in taking blogs to next level. Also every Wednesday we have a chat session at 8.30 PM discussing a range of blogging topics each week. Do tune in!

#Blogchatter 23rd Dec to 30th Dec






November 22, 2015

Signs

Love, Relationships, Language, #Amreading #Amwriting,Affection,Short Stories, Short Story, Fiction, Flash Fiction, #Blog, Blog, Blogger, #Blogging,#Blogchatter, Bloggers,Barriers, Communication
 She looked at him once again. At his luscious lips , in particular. 

Filtered through her dark and beautiful eye lashes, he looked anxious but at peace. Having just poured his heart out, he looked like a man with nothing to lose.

A moment ago, he had just labored his way, through shattering teeth, snapping fingers and quivering lips, to say the three most beautiful yet potentially lethal words in the English language. 

Her lips parted for a brief second, as if to respond,  but she shut them tight. 

She raised her baby finger gently, followed by the synced pointing by her index finger and the thumb. 

Then she paused. So did his breath. The Earth too didn't move in solidarity.

Counting her toes, she slowly harmonized the movement of her thumb and the baby finger and smiled ear to ear!

Their love never needed words. Their lives would never be the hostage of communication.









Original Images - www.lifeprint.com 

January 21, 2013

Story of Failure

Accomplish, Celebration, Failure, Family, Lie, Life, Lifestyle, Opportunity, Solace, Success, Truth, #Amreading, #Blogchatter, #Dream, #writefullyyours, #Amwriting, #Motivation, #quotes, #Inspiration, #leadership

"Failure is simply the opportunity to begin again, this time more intelligently". - Henry Ford

I am Failure. Not a failure, but failure itself. Not the verb, but the noun.

I have seen people with mighty hearts and decorated chests, cringe by my very mention. Those widely respected and honored in their lives and fields, pray they never have to see me in the eye. Sometimes, in all my innocence, I wish at least such brave-hearts  would like to take me head on as a challenge. But they don't ever dare to. I have often wondered why.

Trust me, I don't look that hideous!

Like the black sheep, hidden from the glory of the living rooms of all the braggart families, I have a cousin to blame for this.

Bitch, thy name is Success

Success is pretty and a lot of people, despite of their age and experience (or the lack of it), have crush on her. It's blinding, it's flashy and it makes one utterly myopic. Many a great souls have lost their way after achieving success. But every courageous soul who has ever had an encounter with me has always set new goals and started afresh.

After every success lies an emptiness, after every failure lies a hidden opportunity!

Beyond every finish line, and before every start, in the solitude of thunderous applause, is me. I am the way to look into the future because I have the vision.

We have a strict framework, rules and definitions for success, but me, I am Universal. With no definitions, explanations or interpretations. Not Subjective. While your success may not convince or appease many, your failure is accepted by all. I am the gold standard against which all your successes would be measured.

Success invariably would always be incomplete. It would always make you worry about others' reactions. I am absolute. I would make you a clean slate. What else could possibly be a better place to dust off and start again?

I understand the fixation of  being successful.  But to forget my role once you have been successful is, well, just rude! If anything, I am the springboard that catapulted you to your goals.

Me and my lovely cousin have frequent contests of "tug of war". We call it Life. As lovable as she is, she never gives me credit for my role. And I don't ask for one.

I am that fifth grade Math teacher who helped you get over your fear of the subject by scaring you more. Now, you don't remember him while you accept your accolades as a great Mathematician.

I am that teenage lover of yours whom you deserted for college. And now when you shamelessly seek attention of the gorgeous ladies at your corporate job, I smile in the background.

I am that parent of yours who put in everything he/she had for your future and you comfortably forgot to mention that in your valedictory speech.

I am that sibling who prayed for your scores in his/her struggles. Now, when I struggle to meet my ends, you shun me.

Success is a result of the work put in by the best teacher- failure!

I am that patient homemaker who ignores all your flirtatious transgressions, knowing  at the end of the day, you will come back home for solace.

And sooner, than later, you will come back and embrace me. You will have to accept me as, in your fancy vocabulary, "part and parcel" of life.

Beyond all inflated egos, materialistic gains and short lived happiness, you will find me.

Accept me now, when you have the sweet taste of success.
Or I will hit back, hard.



Photo Courtesy: www.matchexecutives.au