As I get ready to celebrate the fifth year of a 100 pieces of me, life has gotten miraculously, better. This, ladies and gents is the year of the rising, till of course one is reduced to dust yet again and has to reset, one more time.

One is unusually obsessed with the recording of one’s journey not just because of the narcissism (though there is plenty of that) but thanks to the really bad memory- one tends to forget things almost as soon as one does them. When I fade into oblivion, there should be a part of me somewhere, this may turn out to be the only part. Janaab, jab itni pleasant personality ho, to log aapko yaad rakhege, yeh sochna to zara bevakufi he. Plus, I don’t have the whole nine yards, right?

So, thank you for indulging my repetitive thoughts and arbitrary monologues, which make no difference to any one’s existence, other than mine. I know I don’t bring anything to the table, the Photography average, the writing even worse but it satiates the curiosity of the people who know me or apparently want to. About revealing, one can just say, everything is a projection, of course this is too.