Random Ramblings

He listened to the sounds with interest. A weird kind of interest with which one hears when one is unsure of whether he is going to live the next moment. A moment later he may just cease to exist and become just another number. He had just few more minutes to live. As he awaited his end in the small closet of his luxury suite, his life flashed before his eye as it always does in front of the eyes of a dying man. Thirty two years was a long time. But it was not long enough to be length of one’s life. He had seen it all – from being a complete failure to being at the pinnacle of success. But then, it was all a passing phase in his life. These are, after all just passing phases in lives of people. They are at top at one moment in life, and then someone just shoves them off the pinnacle and the next moment they hit the nadir. More often than not, like in his case it was nobody who shoved him off, except himself and his arrogance. That place was under siege since 12 hours now. He he

2008 is gone, and here we welcome 2009. we celebrate this change with a ritual involving music, food, wine and try to have the best of it all. a time when we make a million resolutions. we evaluate happenings of this day minutely as the omens of next 364 days to come. we hope that it has everything to make this day more than ordinary. but at the end of it, it is - just another day. just another year. just another passing moment. ... and this too shall pass!

He had one final look at his work. The ending was perfect. The beginning was perfect. Yes. The pace slackened a bit in middle, but it was acceptable. A handful of people may not like it. He couldn't please all. But he was sure that he would please most of the people, the ones who mattered. Above all, the work would impress him. He had surpassed his own expectations. He had read the final draft for the 27th time by now. It was perfect. Next day he would contact the publishers. He was sure that nobody would refuse. They would lap up his work and offer him some handsome sum of money. Probably much more than any of the first time writers could ever dream of, at an age of 29. That would bring it all - name, fame, recognition, money ... everything! He was destined for greatness, as a part of the title suggested. Maybe in a year ... or two years at max, the world will recognize his greatness. Maybe, that would be fitting reply to the world which had branded him as a insecure, reclusive, w