Who am I?

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I am not religious, but I don't mind calling myself spiritual. Religion, I believe, has, over the millennia, been used as a prop to perpetrate a lot of human suffering. Faith is what matters. I don't believe in the definition of God as a creator. According to me, my God resides within me. Some call it conscience, some call it the sub-conscious, some call it the soul. I don't mind calling it God. So by definition I am not an atheist or an agnostic, but by essence, I may as well be. My God does not reside in a temple, church, mosque or gurudwara. It is right here, within me.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Subdued Super Saturday

The hum of the AC has inconspicuously settled in the background. The accented baritone of Evan has ceased to seem uncommon and has now blended itself with the monotonic drone. I, with a subdued effort, try to keep my eyes open despite the awareness that they must be bloodshot by now – the way they always are whenever I’m seduced by Lady Slumber, especially in such lectures. We flank one end of the rectangular table as Evan scribbles something incomprehensible on the white board which, to my mind, closely resembles the gibberish that I had a habit of writing when I was 3. Digvijay neighbouring me on my left stifles a monstrous yawn. It is raining outside – as I noticed when I made a sojourn to the washroom in the hope of watering down my unceasing desire to visit dreamland, but in vain – and the rain makes me think of the rising anticipation of what lay ahead on the weekend – whatever remained of it.

Today is a Saturday and the vanity of the evident brutality – that is, me sitting in a conference room of the MNC I work for – is a nudging reminder of my ongoing suffering. The gloomy prospect of working on a Super Saturday – a Saturday which hosts a Germany vs. Argentina football world cup quarter final should be called a Super Saturday, no less! – the gloomy prospect should have looked appealing to, in my opinion, not even the workaholic ‘techies’ – as they like to be called. But here we all are, including me I admit, wasting away a perfect Saturday afternoon – though there was not much prospect for enjoyment outside of home because of the rain, but, to me, perfect nonetheless. The flowing reverie of my thoughts was impaled by the now sweet sounding voice of Evan wrapping up the session. I gathered my wits, along with my pen and notebook, and scampered out the room to the environs of freedom and an evening of, I hope, good football.


  1. Admire your writing style. You're getting better each day!! :) Bravo.

  2. Thank you sister :) You KNOW it means a lot.

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