Of roads travelled and forgotten

And then there was another one.

Of course there was this huge gap between the two, but of such gaps in interest, in resolutions, in decisions lies this wondrous instrument called my mind.

Now that I've used shameless self-glorification to hide my equally shameless lazy nature, let's get to actually putting keystroke to editor.

Hmm...why now? To answer the "why blog at all" component of that, would have to answer in 4 words. Mansur, Alien, 1Across, mansurna. 4 ids. 4 distinct phases of a process of evolution so unique that it occurs once in a lifetime, in every lifetime. But 4 phases that are now just a series of neurological connections in a storage system of perfect storage and arbitary retrieval. As I think back over those years - the IES days of standing outside the gate for one glance of a bob of curls in the back seat of a tempo van, the Campion days of hopeful prelims and hopeless finals, the Rectian days of deep fundas, deeper thookams (zzzzzzzzzz for the uninitiated) and the deepest pongals life had to offer, and finally the IBM days of wide-eyed wonder turned to twinkle-eyed excitement turned to teary-eyed frustration turned to bleary-eyed boredom - I see a series of snapshots. An incident here, a quote there. Snapshots of a life that's offered so much. And one I would not trade for the world. Like the Bangalore urban roadscape, life is this series of one-way streets which takes you along a path just long enough that you learn all you can there and have reached what you need to move onto the next one-way street that jumps upon you at just that moment. But when I search for the thought behind that incident, the feeling behind that quote, the emotion as I barreled down that street, all I am left with is a blank.

But I digress. Philosophical meanderings and otherwise, this is about primarily just those one-way streets that I've traversed. The incident and the quote put to print, to be read when the arbitary retrieval system no longer finds the inclination to retrieve the two. And to trigger synapses elsewhere. And with an emphasis on perhaps one of the most exciting one-way streets I'll be travelling through. Rue de Wimwi. No, not rue. Rue. The CoggerBanjo years? Or perhaps the Turbo years? The Manssssssssssur years, maybe? Only the divine steering wheel knows. What I do know is that it's been a ride for the ages thus far. And it's promising to be much much more.

And thanks to the advice of one Messr. Ramki alias Jupee alias The Original Love Doctor, the decision to do something I was paid to do but rarely did in IBM, namely document, came about. A blogspot was promptly obtained, a placemarker put in place, the mental creative pencils were all sharpened. And promptly put in cold storage for the best part of three months. Except of course for those WAC reports.

Which brings me to the "Why now" part of it? Well, I don't really know why. A feeling I guess that the next few months are going to be something I don't want to miss. A vacation which got me thinking, and a need to organize an increasingly spiralling train of thought. In any case, here I am, at 4:17 am in the morning, 2 minutes away from the Publish Post button, with ARR crooning "Yeh jo hai desh teraaa" off WinAmp, a sunrise away from Chapter 2, murdering metaphors and doing something like strangling similes.

So, what exactly do I want to put to print that will so change the way the world operates and make the Earth a better place to live in. Ah, the self-glorification bit again I see. Coming back to Earth, it'll be a reflection of me. Meaning there will be some sports, some movies, some books, some lits, some acads, some music, some philosophizing, some moralizing, some lecturing, some dreaming, some hoping, some smiling. And of course a lot of words. But it'll always be me.