Thank you for being late #GogalReads


If you are a fan of ‘THE HINDU’ or NYT, and appreciate the Open-Ed columns in newspapers and online media, then this could be your book. Remember it gives the feel of 400+ pages of newspaper articles. It does give the feel of a curated article collection but it is not. The author has documented a lot of his travels around the world, and has travelled a lot to document the world. It should have been enriching and overwhelming to observe and narrate all that, that today’s world is about. Every page demonstrates this euphoria.

Engineers and tech-freaks would envy the author for he has met up with the big shots of this century who are in the realm of corporate business and science and technology. This is to understand how they decided to see this world as a bank of opportunities amidst blood and wars. The author has grasped all of this donning the journalist hat, and published pages and pages of awe for the speed and passion that pervades the planet. And the message is calm and clandestine – Optimism, power of writing and opportunism. Opportunism is not bad after all, when channelized to solve world problems.

And so it seems that some of the awe has turned into pages and pages of rant as the book approaches its end. But to give him the benefit of doubt, what would be a good way to end a book on contemporary world? It just doesn’t end, right? I think that should have been the struggle. In an effort to appreciate and demonstrate his inspiration from biomimetics, the author tries to take a metaphorical approach towards “what can we learn from the existing systems?”. This part of the book is called the drag factor.

This is where the author does not only unpeel the banana, but also grabs the stick, to push it down the reader’s throat (That’s right, it’s choky and saturating). Apart from this part, the book is neat. No. I wouldn’t hate bananas altogether. Think about it – that wouldn’t be a wise decision. Hasty, yes. Wise? NO. You regret complaining about a good book. This is really worse than not liking a book. For aspiring bloggers and content creators, this chapter gives a valuable lesson on KISS – Keep It Simple Stupid. Brevity is the soul of wit – truly!

This book is a mini time-capsule for everyone who wants a bird’s eye-view of “So! What’s up in the world?!” I’d recommend it for the back-story of all the successful people who make us think that it was easy for them. What we underestimate or sometimes don’t even care to wonder, goes behind the scenes. But the truth is, a lot of those scenes and bloopers has made ordinary minds to come out with extraordinary ideas that has made this world a better place to live in. Isn’t that reason enough to tolerate the climax drag? To pause, stop, to look around and see how much has changed, and how well it can be used for one’s betterment, is the best takeaway from “Thank You For Being Late”. Well, better late than never!

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A lot of this, and a bit of that


Stress could be diverse. Stress has several causes. But one of the reasons for stress is universal. And what could that reason be? It is simply not enjoying what you do, on a regular basis. If this reason is universal, why is work considered stressful? Because you may want to argue that there are a lot of variables involved with the choice of profession, starting from family background, nature of job, work shifts, financial security, and personal setbacks in life. But before you come up with your excuses (yes, that’s what I would like to address them as, for now), think again. Innately, it just means that you do not give yourself a good company at work, and while you work. Now, what does that mean?

A country can only have one leader at a time. The lack of attention to detail from thousands of dreamers, hundreds of aspirants, and a handful of candidates to one facet of their dream, is the trump (duh!) card that the winning candidate flipped to his/her favor. During the tenure of that leader, every other potential leader, lives through with hard-hitting lessons and strategies that their dream recently taught them. As long as the lessons remain reinforcing, their dream is alive. The moment they allow pressure to seep in, their dream boat starts to sink. They go back to work, and give a little bit lesser of themselves to work, than the previous day. In the race between mounting pressure and reinforced lessons, mind falters in a jiffy and you tend to give in to pressure. You love your dream. But your love for that work towards your dream is a little less than yesterday. A lot of these littles, make it big. Every drop counts. Because it drops. To those who think that you are positively passionate and will never love it any less, way to go. That’s the intent. But wanting to get there, and getting there, are two very different challenges.

So what’s the point? Love yourself a little more with each passing day, because when a bad day happens, it does not guarantee to take just a little away from you everyday. What gets taken away, always seems bigger than what you gathered to avoid the mishap. Give yourself a good company at whatever you do. Add some spice, and liven it up. It’s inexplicable to understand, and measure the rewards of enthusiasm. You never know how rewarding your enthusiasm could be. So the best approach is to give a little more than before. This way, what you lose remains insignificant in comparison to your unfathomable endurance, grit and passion. The more you possess, the less you could give. Yes, it is a strange math.


Your first best should be your-self! Most needed friend . . .
Pingback – A Friend in Need

Corona


I like the frenzy of normalcy. That is where I was born. That is where I belong . . .
They say that dreams are the calling of your soul. That is where they go wrong . . .

You came up to me. We became the best of partners. You, my dreams. And I, the me.
I yearned for you. I chased you up and down my days and nights.

You were all that, that I wanted. Little did I know that you were a package.
A package full of pressure. And sweat. And blood. And fame. And spotlight. And promises.

The little human in me, often succumbed to the burning flame that you were.
The little heart in me, often scurried into the braving name that you bore.

There were those days when I wanted to get to you. You, were all that that I was born for. Made for. Looked for. And lived for.

Sitting atop the mountain of fame, is a curse in disguise.
No superstar of this home, ever did surmise.

Privacy hid in its own privy.
Secrecy bid an unknown currency.
Aloof – scorched my roof.
“Alone!” screamed in proof.

The corona of stardom, is a story that repeats itself across nations. Dear fame, spare me.

You came up to me. We became the best of partners. You, my dreamer. And I, am your dream.
I yearned for you. I chased you up and down your days and nights. And mine.

You were all that, that I wanted. Little did I know that you were a package.
A package full of vulnerability. And courage. And love. And flesh. And thoughts. And promises.

The little human in you, often succumbed to the burning flame that I sparked.
The little heart in you, often scurried to throw the blame I trademarked.

There were those days when I wanted to get to the real you. You, were all that that I was born for. Made for. Looked for. And strived for.

Rising atop your name, was a life time goal.
Every superstar of this home, you are my mid-day meal.

The corona of a star, is a story that repeats itself across nations. Dear star, wear me.