11 years Ma

 Death.

She comes as natural as life, if not more.

She is the omega that gives life’s peregrination a value, an appreciation, an esteem.

If she does not come, eternal life would be fearful, treacherous, evil and boring.

 

The credits roll. I read the names out loud.

They are the contributors, the ones responsible for the story of our lives.

They appear throughout our stories but we see them only in the end.

 

Mortality stares at us but we cannot actively engage in `tough and taboo’ conversations openly so we cannot confront it.

We see the negative, the dark and the grief that envelope our minds.

It is our perceptions preached, taught and bestowed upon through the ages until we believe in it so completely there is no room for light.

The avoidance of explicitly communicating the one sure event in our lives, have rendered us utterly unprepared for it.

 

There are a range of resources to help grievers explore and express their stories while connecting with those of others to help them feel less alone.

Why would I want to feel less alone, Ma?

They avoid aloneness the way they avoid death, like that is possible.

People are in the process of dying the moment they are born. Some just take more time.

 

In the grand tapestry of existence, we come into this world alone and shall depart the same way.

To find solace in one’s own company is a skill that surpasses that of many.

 

I am present ma, in life or in death.

There is a difference between `not being dead’ and `being alive’

I am alive, present and happy

I would be dead, present and happy when I die.

 

We are raised to compartmentalize and schedule grief into annual religious and spiritual rituals and wishes.

I don’t need this day to remember grief or loss.

I carry you with me on a daily basis, and though it isn’t about grief anymore, I flinch when I remember that Valentines Day you left us.

 

There is a permanence in death that cannot be accepted by the human race. So, they invent stories of heavenly abodes to cushion our grief and to give us hope that this is not the end and we would meet our loved ones when it is our turn to leave.

Humans have become so unintelligent that they have to be caressed with false hopes, religion and company.

Whatever freedom and intelligence we have won over centuries, we have lost it now. Our cages are smaller with too much discrimination, racism, sexism and humans, too much humans.

 

Why does it dehumanize a person if she sees the need for death and an apocalypse?

What extolment can we give life if our existence trouble others?  

What human values do we talk of procuring when longevity is an obsession even with those who are ill, poor and dependent.

 

What real living are we honouring if we cannot accept death as a conclusion?

 

You are gone ma.

I have accepted that.

I don’t even want to light your lamp anymore, for I see no value in that.

I have lived 48 years of my life with you. If I am not grateful for that, I can never be for anything else.

11 years now, ma.

No one lives forever but you will live in my thoughts, in my being, in my writings as long as my epilogue isn’t written.

Happy Valentines Ma

 

 

Translation :

 I remember ma, sometimes

That you will never return to me

You're deep in your path, me in mine. 

Were you upset? Was it me who made a mistake?

Didn't I explain it well 

That you were my raison d'etre

So then Ma, where did you go leaving me?

I started out writing a normal blog

But this time I wanted it unique

So, I gave in to my wayward poetry

To govern a privileged speak

 

A decade of absence, ma

Death arrived that Valentines Day

She watched us watching you

While you struggled to stay

 

‘The Persuader’, the book I will never write

Is about her, my alter ego, my other half

I have romanced her for far too long

A dance, an occasional laugh

 

Every night I see her weighing her thoughts

And when morning comes, she spares me

She’s aware that I am ready

But she is yet to agree

 

Ashon found me when you left

And I found solitude, an inimitable gift

I am neither moored nor steered

As she watches me laying adrift

 

So, maybe she allows me time

To wallow and luxuriate in sin

Thinking perhaps I would enjoy it too much

So as to not let her in

 

But I will defy her one day

When the waiting extends

And even she would stand aside

Adjusting, making amends

 

I believe no god, no fairy tale

No love too, no hate

No reaction, good or bad

No thoughts, not even fate.

 

I need no compass or map

No road shall lead me,

No guidance or teachings

No light to see

 

Give me no advice

I need no gesture or talk,

For me to decide

Which way to walk.

 

I walked far away from them

In silence, solo-bound

I chose it right, ma

This time around

 

This sanctuary, a taciturn whole

Is my pasture, my land

Alone in the midst of solitude

Least alone I stand

 

 Doors are shut and windows grilled

And I hope if anyone should arrive

They would turn back and leave

Thinking I am no more alive

 

Death is declared a saddened state

 By the living suffused with fear

Stories and lies through generations

No truth dare come near

 

Your presence gave me life

And your absence made me whole

I am my own story now, ma

An unchained simple soul

 

I love my life but I have no greed

Their laws are not for my sake

Callous in reigning control

Of my life, that isn’t mine to take

 

I have fallen out of love

Slaughtering them with no grace

Reducing my species to a bonfire

Destroying everything in their space

 

I have forgotten who I was

In an entourage which played

Hypocrisy and diplomacy

Blinding truth a blacker shade

 

I am not concerned with wars and ideals

New promise of powers that rise

And the old that’s forgotten

In their politics, religions, shams and lies

 

I dissociated from the clock too

I know its 7pm when it gets dark

But that day you left, THAT DAY

Is a print, an indelible mark

 

Ten years, ki bolbo ma

But when I think it through

I don’t really miss us

Because my solitude is you

 

In the midst of the chaos and drudgery

You have always been my soft glow

That 14^th February you transmogrified

Into a cascade, and easy flow

 

From a mother, my mother

In innumerable ways and views

To become my prose, my poetry,

My Valentine, my constant muse

 

In rememberance, Mother.

 

Happy Valentines Ma

Nine years.

A long absence.

That Valentines Day, you gave up your life, gifting me mine.

 

Our home has left me ma, just like you did.

Nature is thriving there though.

 

I since, gave up everyone in your life, and eventually in mine too.

I am bereft of relatives, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, neighbours, strangers and other people, by choice.

 

I built my sanctuary in what you left behind, gating it, fencing it right to the roof and naming her Ashon, in memory of you.

I stopped working and socializing while slowly moving towards solitude.

 

Didon invested in Asroi, an hour away home, closer to her university.

Remember how you used to say that if I bought another book, I would have to sleep outside? All the boxes of books found their final destination in a huge pride of a library in Asroi, neatly arranged in 6 tier bookshelves.

 

Duli completed her required education as will Putul, in May. I promised you I would take care of them and I did. Let them create their own paths now.

 

Remember how irritated I would get with your obsession with cleanliness?

Ashon changed me.

Just normal detergent does not suffice for me. I buy chemicals like sodium hypochlorite, hydrogen peroxide, isopropyl alcohol and baking soda in quantities of 5 kgs and above just to meet an immaculate clean hygiene.

There are no insects in Ashon ma, not even lizards and flies. Imagine the relief. Occasionally, the infernal hardy cockroach visits only to face my isopropyl spray. The little holes in its body segments take in the alcohol making it stagger before I commit  the murder.

My generosity allows only spiders as they have always been my inspiration. I clear them once every six months, but not without apologizing to them first.

I have sealed all doors and windows and only open the back door in the mornings for the sun to enter. In the evenings, its rays fall upon me in the hall, like poetry.

 

Remember all my diaries and penpals?

I still write, ma. I write a lot, especially in my mind.

I thought I would write a book one day but a paradigm shift happened.

When your wants and desires dip firmly to zero or below, you realize your accolades do not lie in them anymore. Real intelligence does not seek admiration or validation. I lived free when I liberated myself from the opinions of the human race. I have no great fondness for them, though I am one.

My reward lies in the relationship I have with myself, a power that comes through wisdom, silence and solitude.

But I write for you every Mother’s Day, birthday and Valentines, your death day. There seems to be an overflow of words when it comes to you. Most times I am closer to you in death than I was when you were living, an intimacy born simply of thinking about you so very often.

On your death year, I wrote for you a long entry in my blog on Mother’s Day. I have been meaning to write again and though next year, 2024 marks the anniversary of a decade, I chose to write now on your 9^th death anniversary because I have stopped taking my days for granted. My gratitude is for every morning when I wake up and my reality is knowing that one of the days, I will not be privileged to witness the rising sun, so what I can do now, let me not postpone to a year later.

After you left, both the Ponjika and festivals left with you. There has been no celebration since.

The vacuum you created was filled with my obsession of solitude. I no longer needed conversations with, or the presence of people in my life.

People think the emptiness you created made me lose my way, but how do I tell them that I finally found it?

I started cooking but only if I have to. I did not like it then, I do not like it now. I neither have the patience nor skill for it. Most of the time, besides holudh, the only other spice I always have in the cupboard is methi (just in case of a stomach ache). Nothing else really. Ginger is too out of shape to peel and cut, garlic is too small, and onions burn my eyes.

There is an Indonesian female at the nearby restaurant cooking some vegetables and chicken everyday. My lack of interest in cooking is making her richer by the day. Nothing I eat will ever be the best because you have spoilt me. Your food will always carry that memory of taste, unparalleled.

I am reminded of you not only when I see your picture on the altar, but literally everything from the crocheted laces to the kitchen cutlery remind me of the phenomenal woman you were. I sometimes listen to the old Bangla songs and think of how you loved songs, music, movies and books. I am evidence of your strength, talent, ability, capability, and in general your life. 

I don’t need to leave footprints, as yours are larger than life.

You have always been my biggest event.

Mothers and daughters with strong personalities see the world from different points of view, and so with us, as always with the generation gap, if you were still alive, my story would not have begun.

You would not have approved of my hermit life, of my thought processes and of my bold and deviant decisions. I would not have explored my freedom in totality with and in your presence.

I stopped travelling too, ma. I know you will not believe it but well, that was the paradigm shift too.

You were my mother for all the years in your life, and my child for the final months. Losing both a parent and a child at the same time was intensely pernicious and though my stagnant grief hasn’t lessened, I used your absence as my strength and found growth in reliance of self, making the journey a breeze to happiness in solitude. If you were still with me, society would still be the agenda and I would have still been in chains.

Having said that, I have no regrets ma, and maybe that is why I am at peace. And though I have bordered on insanity or crossed it after your death, it still does not change the fact that for every trip I take outside Ashon, I cannot wait to return home.

And home to me, has always been you, even in your absence.

 

 

                                   

 

---

 [ssr1]

An unsent letter

 

2022 sprinted by without me posting an entry, and with the end of the year around the corner, I decided to not repeat the annual ritual of highlighting the year’s happenings and wishing all a great 2023.

This withdrawal from the norm and everything else that accompanies it, came to me very early in my life, but in recent times, it has grown to unimaginable heights.

I am finally writing because being grateful is an amazing feeling. Thank you for tolerating my absurdities in not responding to your messages and mails immediately.

I do things for myself now. If I do things for you, it will only be because I want to, not because I am obliged to.

And oftentimes, I really do not want to respond, not in any way, because of you, but because a two-way conversation is too overwhelming for me.

The normal feeling attached to us is of rejection when someone fails to reply our mails or messages as soon they have read them. We wonder if we said or did something to upset the other person. Thus, we assume, overthink and get affected. 

My philosophy is simple. Two can perceive the same picture with different conclusions. What the artist portrays is not what the viewer receives. Assumptions always outlive their uselessness. 

May I please request you to stop asking me how I am.

If I say I am extremely unwell, you will sympathize and give me your warmth in words or offer me free advice after inquiring further.

 If I say I am exceptionally happy in my solitude, you would think I am lying because no one is really happy alone.

But the truth is just that. I am majorly unwell physically, and over the moon happy alone. I neither wish to keep repeating it nor do I seek or want your response to it. Perhaps, that is the reason I do not communicate.

I bask in my own company in a madman sort of way defying John Donne’s `no man is an island’ statement. Neither company nor comfort from others equate happiness for me.

The greatest thing in the world is to belong to oneself, the greatest freedom, the greatest happiness and the greatest friendship. When you are your own best friend, even fettered chains will not hold you.

Forgive me, perhaps if you want to or don’t. It does not matter to me, not because you don’t matter but because the comfort and friendship I have with myself far outweighs anything you say or think about me.

Even after this letter, I will not hope that you understand my `deranged’ behaviour. Hope is the devil, succumbing to illusions and delusions.

You and I are very different, and if you say we are not, I can list down the differences that might surprise you but the point I am accentuating here is that you will not understand me because I am not you and vice versa. It’s as simple as that.

We judge, assume and empathize from our perspectives, from a version of us, not of the other person’s because we are not intellectually equipped to do that.

I prefer if you do not inquire after me. I have nothing to tell you that will make you smile. You will perceive me as negative and a lost cause. I may perceive you as the same.

I stopped mincing my words giving diplomacy a bad name. My honesty is brutal even to myself. And no matter how honest I am with you, still, my truth may not be your truth in a parallel duality that never meets.

Remaining incommunicado grants me an aura of happiness drenched in silence. It’s the same silence I obsess with, the same rhythm, the same beat, the same sound that permeates my pores in an orchestral melody.

Though any normal person will feel an overall uneasiness and concern for my words, I want to say that I appreciate you more today than I ever did earlier in our relationship, but that I don’t need you to understand what I have become. 

I don’t even need you to accept me. 

In fact, I don’t need anything of you or from you, not even a message and I will still love you.

I love you more than you possibly think but I reject the normal accepted ways of displaying love and affection because the stereotypes do not suit me.

I was there once too. And I wasn’t happy.

My choices changed and I accommodated growth in a circle I encompassed for myself, caring only for my version of who I am.

Insults and praise from others stopped having an effect on me. I figured it is absurd to live my life on people’s thoughts. Your dos and don’ts aren’t mine. Your advice is your perception. Your thoughts are your bondage and your inferences come from your experience. None of them belong to me so why should they decide my path?

What you take from this letter will determine the way you think and perceive things. If you are upset with what I said, you should question why you are upset about many other things in your life too.

But if you are not perturbed or in the slightest way disturbed, I commend you for not allowing your emotions to overpower you. It is admirable and displays great strength to not yield to praise or insults, rudeness or warmth, honesty or lies but to take them as they are, learning what is needed, sieving the rest.

I started out this letter with every intention of sending it to you. 

But the hour glass has been a constant companion in my solitude and I learnt silence from it. I however, did ask myself why a letter written for you isn't being sent your way. 

As a friend pointed out, people cannot handle the truth, and that is why I preferred blogging my thoughts in a neutral space, not responding to you and not requiring one from you in return.

I would like to end with this. 

Leaving people alone and asking them to leave you alone is an unequalled skill.

And I have mastered it in my solitude.

Happy 2022

I was contemplating for many days to write my annual new year blog.  

Now that I’m at it, I will strive to keep it short and simple.

I used to be mechanical before, robotic in nature, in consumption and in relationships. I struggled in life, been there, done that and at every junction, I became a warrior, a survivor.

I also cared. Quite deeply actually. And truly loved.

From an introvert child I grew into an adult social chameleon.

I was a lot of things that I am not now.

 

The new year means another day alive, another year, another birthday. It is about being blessed and being grateful. Therefore, it is cause for celebration.

It is cause too for this write.

But my truth is that it holds no meaning anymore.

To further expand on my thoughts, would mean to disrupt the positive wishes.

Therefore, I will reserve my unfathomed ideologies for myself.

 

However, for those who think I have entered an abyss with my hermit life, they are not wrong but my abyss has sunshine with shadows and every sunrise is a new day of a new year, while every shadow is proof of the sun’s rays on me.

When the celebrations explode with displays of fireworks and shock wave sonic boom sounds, I think of how happy everyone will be, partying with the best cuisine, swaying with their loved ones to auld lang syne, as they raise their glasses to the coming year.

A cliché maybe but I celebrate this special day, every 24 hours.

Having an illness or a physical difficulty in life is a beautiful reminder of how real every day is and how much gratitude we should attach to every given breath even while we are asleep.

Just today, as I was rushing due to my own folly and mindlessness, I slipped and fell hurting my hips and knees. I have a dislocated shoulder and a swollen toe. I hit the side of my head which immediately sent me into a spin of vertigo. It was an arduous feat just to stand on my two feet again, but while I was struggling to get up, I neither thought of pain nor of the difficulty, I was in all honesty filled with gratitude for still being able.

Unceasing gratitude and executed contentment have been the major ingredients in my recipe for happiness.

I will neither speak of solitude nor of detachment, as it is annoying to people who crave for company. But in the coming year, I will attempt a blog entry on solitude/loneliness and another on boredom or since they run along the same lines, I will combine them into one post.

For now, I want to add that this past year has changed me a little more, or maybe a lot more than the previous years so I am uncertain of the degree of change in the coming year as for the first time in my life, I see myself not indulging in writing anymore. I cannot say positively that it will happen but I think I am slowly heading there.

Again, change has been my only constant for the past few years, so I might vacillate incessantly allowing indecisiveness to reign.

Until recently, I had someone in my life who was an unabating listener, a repository of all my insane, psychotic thoughts and also of my words of wisdom. But life, like nature, is as beautiful as it is cruel. The choices we make will either reap us the benefits or suffer us the consequences.

Every way we react and every decision we take or make depends on our interpretation of what is presented to us. We think we are right all the time. There is a clear overlapping of rights and wrongs, as they apply differently to different situations with different people and even though we often see ourselves as right, we seldom are.

We lack a higher form of intelligence to enable us to empathize and understand without evaluating or judging.

Which brings me to silence.

In it, I found a neutral space where I don’t have to be right or wrong. There is no battle to fight. The less you present your opinions or your verdict in conversations, the more you strengthen your mind. Judgement, I deduce, should be kept for ourselves, a reflection, an introspection.

When you do not need validation from others, nothing impacts your thoughts and actions. Real freedom becomes your truth and fear innately dissipates.

The major triumph, as per society’s portrayal, this 2021, has been Duli’s completion of her Masters in Environmental Engineering.

Society demands and dictates rules for our behaviour and achievements.  Successes have to run along the lines set for us. Anything unacceptable by their standard is disregarded or frowned upon. We remain slaves as long as we still want to fit in.

An entry into our lives this December was a beautiful cat with lemony eyes we named Lebu, pronounced `layboo’, meaning lemon in Bengali. She was pregnant when she entered our home. 

I went a little insane buying for her premium cat food for good skin and hair after which she never failed to visit us for her treats, added with a little bit of love, especially after her delivery. She belongs to herself and comes and goes as freely as she chooses.

For this coming year, there will be no resolution and no planning or goals for me.

The water tiger year 2022 has a prediction based on a few negatives by feng shui experts but since I have long stopped believing in anything anyone professes, I would infer otherwise.

I see the tiger as brave, confident and extremely charming. It is comfortable alone or with its tribe. It is both a protective and an unmatched leader, not undermining autonomy of others.

Therefore, irrespective of the predictions and beliefs floating around out there, you can predict your chosen route by creating your own chart to guide you positively, constructively and progressively. There are things in life which are eminently impossible, but only if you believe so.

Here’s wishing everyone 365 days of happiness and daily celebrations.

Wisdom with a lockdown birthday

The month of June is a loud reminder to update my blog with the happenings or non-happenings in my life. It seems that I only manage two entries a year, one at the end of the year and the other a day or two after my birthday since it marks the half year period. 

I began writing at a very early age and I remember how gravely horrific my grammar was, not that it is excellent now, but it is definitely a marked improvement from the purge. Despite the obvious errors and the ignorance of the sniper, she fired away. People were too embarrassed to correct me, but not more than I was, in finding the basis of the missile.

I wrote endlessly. It was the thing I delighted in, and then there was art too. Yeah, sketches here and there, figurines, fonts, still life, and with water colors came scenic imaginations. Writing expanded to pen pals and letter sheets, some with my drawings, some with their own designs in the background. I sort of graduated to philately by default since letters came from all over the world.

Every year I would keep a diary. And unflaggingly I would share the secrets of the day with it like it was my best friend. Akin to Tolkien, I created my own language which had its own alphabet, and only my diaries and I would understand it. No one could read them and eventually when I was decluttering after thirty years, I myself could hardly remember the letters I created. I burnt years of secrets in a large bonfire celebrating an upgrade to quotes and poetry, wisdom and philosophy.

We have different phases in our lives when we are attracted to different elements. However, one thing remained the same for me throughout, the love for words and literature, its growth extended, occupying a little more space every time, and so books remained the friends I couldn’t do without.

Transitions happen without us realizing and though my life long dream was to be alone, I don’t really know when I entered that phase or if it was always there hidden, waiting to make a grand entrance.

I fall in the category of people who use all ten fingers to type with a pretty good speed but one who prefers the real writing with ink on paper.

Lately my arthritic fingers have made it next to impossible to indulge in it but I still obsess about how the ink just flows on those empty pages. Adding to the pain, the fingers cramp and twist in any direction in torturous want, squeezing every bit of enthusiasm I have developed from the passion of just holding the pen and letting my thoughts flow. 

Solitary living suits me.

It is a grand reward for someone who loves the wilderness, the mountains and the ocean. All that is colossal and unpopulated. When there is no room for gossip and unnecessary words, silence becomes the buoyance of peace. When anger and hate is not present, one doesn’t require to work on being happy. We don’t need to search, it finds us.

I was so unwise.

Wisdom opens a frontier that you enter never to turn back. It is a state of bliss in a paradise some have created only for a time after death.  

Wisdom teaches you detachment. When you have nothing and you know nothing, that is the beginning of everything. It teaches you the extraordinariness in simplicity.

We live in a time when unnecessary things are our only necessities, making the whole value and standard of importance a far reach from wisdom. We are entangled in this maze exploring mindlessly until we are not able to come out of it. The majority of people have this perpetual curiosity to know everything around them except what is worth knowing.

Wisdom guides your thoughts derailing it from anger, regret, hate, grudges, worries, jealousy, vengeance and all such things into a realm of natural calm. You come to a realization that time should be wasted on the quietude of things, the meditative state of mindfulness or progression, on the joy of your own company, on books, music, on giving, teaching, guiding, helping, on kindness and on reflection, nothing else really.

Anger management was always a difficult achievement in my life and the more I talked to myself to rationalize, the less I had controlled my anger. I will write about this in another blog entry but for now I will just say that anger is a paralyzing emotion and it does more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anyone or anything it is poured unto.

Solitude and wisdom are greatest of friends and if wisdom fails me, solitude picks up the pieces and I find myself pacified with calmness undoing any bearer of chaos.

I have bulldozed my way into most of my contacts, giving them my grand statement of departure, and then totally detaching myself from them without giving them a chance to voice out their opinions, not wanting to hear what they have to say.

I would like to apologize for becoming who I have become not because I am sorry about it but because there are so many levels of right and wrong, so many versions of dos and donts and since mine almost never tallies with anyone else’s, especially my closest friends, I hope they will find it in their hearts to forgive my exit from their lives before my final egress.

How does one disconnect from good friends and relatives with a valid explanation? There is neither justice in it nor understanding.

But my obsession with solitude has heralded everything that I have wanted in my life, everything that I have become.

I look upon the pandemic as a gift. Nature has to be revered, kindness has to rule, and the homo sapiens have to progress into betterment, not augment chaos with greed and hate.

People view me and my thoughts as a part of a dark domain, and they may be right but they see the abyss as dark, whereas for me it is a place for the brightest flare.

Everything is perception. 

Darkness is a benefit, an award, a decoration, a companion of light. How can one be substantial if he or she cannot cast a shadow? Why does the theory of dualism exist? 

Darkness has been made lethal by the constant slavery of our minds induced by the thoughts of others. 

This year's lockdown birthday turned out to be one of my best birthdays with my favorite vanilla crepe delivered to my doorstep entirely for myself (by courtesy of my sister), prawn macaroni and cheese, chocolate and strawberry sundaes and no people. 

The brilliance of the pandemic for me, is indeed a benediction.  

The past six months have been a blessing. Every day I wake up thinking how fortunate I am to live a life that I wallow in.

My happiness is contained in this luxurious monumental freedom and space, lots and lots of space, unpeopled space.

Health will always be an issue if we focus on it. I neither think nor care about it. It is an exhausting subject for me and to the best of my ability, I rid myself of the tremendous impact it has on everyone. 

I have been in this bubble of happiness for a while now and I think that is all that should matter to me. Why would I want to create a chaos for a burst? 

I will end this entry with a short message to all. 

Find pleasure in minimalizing and edit your life frequently so your life will create the masterpiece you choose to become. 

Happy New Year

Year 2020 was apparently the worst nightmare for the majority, but I can truly say it was the best year of my life. 

With a few hiccups, the entire journey was the life I had always looked forward to, that of freedom and solitude. 

The beginning of this year saw my backpacking heart away from Ashon, my monastery. I spent an entire month in Bangladesh, mainly in Mymensingh, with a short travel to Chittagong and Cox Bazaar, exploring popular beaches and just chillaxing. The mustard fields in the villages were calling out to me so I visited them with arthritic difficulty. The return journey from Chittagong to Mymensingh by bus was a killer, but I got to the Hazrat Shahjalal International airport safely, to find that I was the only passenger without a mask, and it was then I sort of deduced the seriousness of the corona virus. 

On the home front, the spread was thin and the pandemic only existed in the news with one or two cases brought in by tourists travelling from China. Everything seemed normal and we were completely unaware of the wildfires lurking in the corner. 

On the 20th of February, after a lovely lunch with Dul, I was riding back home via the town road, and just as the traffic light turned red, I was hit by a car. 

I lost memory and had no idea what had happened. I regained consciousness in the hospital not being able to answer simple questions like what my name was and if I knew what happened or where I was at etc. 

Over time, I got my memory back and was taken for a head computed tomography scan. I was told I had nothing to worry about and was discharged with a list of drugs. 

My nose suffered a few hairline fractures and my jaw was broken. The teeth felt loose and there was swelling on both my face and head. I constantly felt dizzy and had 24/7 headaches. 

Even though my threshold for pain is really high, it was so undeniably excruciating, it managed to disable my mind for a while.

 

I faced quarantine from February itself, before the actual movement control order date on the 16th of March 2020, when the pandemic produced the largest and deadliest cluster in the Tabligh gathering in a single mosque. 

Even though the health ministry did an excellent job of containing the spread, today we are hit by a second wave of  Covid's mutation, soaring our contracted numbers to an all time high. 

Unemployment and thievery have increased while the virus plunged the economy into a severe contraction. Further shrinking is expected as commerce continues to be disrupted. 

I am neither a sadist nor a masochist, but while people worry about this novel coronavirus, I cannot help but think of how we misuse everything given to us and how selfishness and greed have overpowered and controlled love and kindness. 

We take life for granted and convince ourselves subconsciously that we are going to live forever. Whether its an accident or deliberately planned, we deserve this virus. I can also say that we will undoubtedly fail to learn any lesson attached to the birth and proliferation of this virus, intended or not. 

Last year I built a place of living that I call my sanctuary. I have named her Ashon, as I have mentioned in my 2020 new year blog entry. But I only moved in around the month of May 2019 and the rest of the year I was still travelling. 

This year I had the privilege of enjoying Ashon sanse pause, soaking in her every comfort and happiness throughout the year. I best describe her in the following.

 

February saw Dul starting her Masters in Environmental Engineering and May saw Putul entering her 1st year in the Bachelors of Bio Science with Chemistry. They completed their first year with online classes. Dul will complete in September 2021, while Putul will be in her finals in the year 2023. 

With the online shift in education, Didon, had it tough but somehow managed to overcome the perplexities of the technical world and further conducted seminars, while getting her work published, which may be viewed as normal for someone with her caliber and designation but I see it as a huge achievement, something I am extremely proud of. 

In November last year, urticaria was foisted on me, interfering with my daily functioning. I battled with it for almost a year before getting my blood tested in October 2020. The results of the tryptase level identified systemic mastocytosis, which propelled the next step for further tests in January 2021 on the bone marrow to rule out leukemia, or to confirm it. 

In August, the hives became so bad, I took an overdose of Cetirizine, an antihistamine prescribed for urticaria which caused dryness in my throat which in turn destroyed my vocal cords so when I spoke no sound was heard. It was sort of in line with the life I am living now, and it was perhaps the best excuse for not attending to phone calls. 

I seriously think we all talk too much and too unnecessarily and sometimes it is a relief to others when we shut our traps. This experience was immensely crucial to keep me away from all the murkiness of futility. 

 

I stopped the antihistamines, and continued drinking warm water which eventually brought back my voice. 

My meditation experiences have been as weird as my dreams and nightmares, all of which I remember to every irrelevant detail. 

In one of my meditations this year, I travelled to Saturn, a colossal planet, dark, freezing and rocky where I had unprecedented conversations with others, after which, I returned to my three dimension reality wondering if it was a dream. It was surreal enough for me to ponder if a message is hidden in its midst.  

In June, before my birthday, a Huawei nova 7se arrived, with a 5G offering lower latency, and higher capacity, stronger signals and I would think, more exposure and radiation. The quad camera offers amazing panaromas and night scenes. Another exciting addition to my wanderlust photography despite the travel ban. 

Denim, our Nissan Almera was financially settled in August, so Dul officially became the legal owner of Denim. 

In November, the Hisense TV decided to react to my constant watching and it destroyed the t-con board. Sound was intermittent so I had to give it up as repairing costs would have got my pockets dry. 

As the universe would have it, I was gifted a smart tv. It’s a whole new feeling to indulge in it for the first time. For the screen lover, it is paradise.

I continue to be in love with solitude, my writings being proof of it. 

However, the only goal I was able to accomplish this year was getting rid of one item every day. In fact, as of today I have given away 630 items, all listed and accounted for.

For 2021, I had written this.

Like I mentioned in my blog earlier, hoarding is a phobia that has adhered to me recently and decluttering falls under the 'critical must do' list. 

In the beginning, I said this was my best year. 

Solitude is a special word. It carries with it a special person. One who enjoys his/her company in a cosmic way. I read somewhere that if you are your own best friend, you don't need to figure out how to live life.

 

Along with things I gave away, I also disconnected from friends, not because I have anything against anyone, but because I now follow a different path and it is where I want to be until I am gone. I am aware that my friends will not understand my decision, but I rather be honest and follow my path, than be a hypocrite and follow theirs. 

However, while I said my goodbyes, I started putting up my quotes in Instagram in July, under subrata_sinha_roy, for the world to use in any way they want. I neither follow anyone nor comment as it is only a means for me to gift the world, appreciated or not. 

There is judgement of arrogance in that but `my give a damn attitude' has become my crown and I seriously wear it like a queen. 

Many friends disapprove of my decisions, but I got busy with myself and I stopped taking things personally. A compliment or an insult is someone else's opinion, with due respect to all. Perhaps, that attitude became the best contribution to my wisdom.

 

My library waits for me, each book competing for my attention. 

My music list is interminable, there just isn't an opportunity to listen to everything. Today I am in the mood for Jethro Tull or Tracy Chapman, tomorrow it is Halsey, by the evening it is symphony no. 40, and at night, it is country, the next day it is suddenly Gypsy Kings or Arijit Singh. 

The smart tv makes Netflix so easy to watch, that I literally watch a whole season in one day. 

I will not speak of the book I intended to write, the 2020 goal which was unaccomplished, as it will be written if I want it to. And right now, I am distracted with idleness.  

I do write every day, either on paper or in my mind. Being away from people has elevated my thoughts and brought clarity to my mind. I feel no disturbance or obstruction. It is a choice I have long postponed which is finally made right.

All my life I was this dutiful and dependable person, never failing any tasks handed to me. I strived for perfection in every sector to the point of nausea, being a jack of all crafts and trades, a survivor. 

It is therefore a privilege now to be content, having no one to listen to or be responsible for, a grant of monumental repose, which again is just the beginning of real freedom, followed by the ultimate liberation from the clock and the calendar. 

I neither know the time nor the date until I am reminded of it. Alarms are a thing of the past for me. I wake up when I want to, if I do. 

There is a kind of autarky in idleness, in not having to be aware or care, the feeling is bewildering, one that I only had the pleasure of enjoying and experiencing this year in the entire five and a half decades of my life. 

The freedom to just breathe. 

In the Chinese zodiac, 2021 is the year of the metal ox. The ox being methodical and hardworking, we can look forward to economic recovery as a reward. But well, one never knows. 

I dare say I am the happiest person in the world today, and it is not because I am rich, young or slim, healthy, pretty or popular. In fact my Instagram posts hardly receive one or two likes. 

If I were to dissect it, I think it is pretty simple. I am happy because I choose to be. Solitude has a big role in it though. 

So my wish for you is that you too will understand that happiness is a choice and it isn't dependent on what you have, who you are, where you are at or who you are with. 

I wish you a good 2021, and if it isn’t good, I hope you will find it in your intellect, to make it work for you. 

I hope you will find solitude every time you are lonely, and create excitement every time you are bored. Look for inspiration in anything, toilet paper, an art project, an abandoned animal, diy tools, headphones, just about anything and once you find it, you are on your way to bigger inspirations. I also hope you will understand that if you are angry you cannot be wise, it is either or.

Finally, know that everything is a choice, the most powerful tool we all own with infinite possibilities. So my wish for you is that you will love your life or make the choice to adjust it to the way you would love it, and make 2021 your best year yet.

Reply to a mail

This time my post is a letter to someone, a reply to her mail.

It is that time of the year when we are in the middle again, the past six months battling a virus, the next six recuperating, hopefully.

I cannot hold a candle to the things you said in your mail. But thank you for your birthday wishes and along with it, your gratitude. Recently I subscribed to gratitude as the mother of all virtues, patience coming a close second.

Forgive me for my detachment. I have reached a locus where I see no apparent reason to offer an explanation to anyone.

However, I started writing this, perhaps because I want you to cherish what I will say, not as an excuse or an explanation, but as a reflection of what I have become.

I was born a fire horse in the Chinese Zodiac, a fire tetrahedron which requires the propagation of oxygen, fuel and heat to exist, and a horse who has ruled before the age of engines and machines.

I see myself in the same league as a stallion, who has been ridden, and over-worked at, in every sector, every era, every economy from grasslands to race-courses, and deserts to domestic life of human living.

I was never complacent in the herd but I figured I had to fulfill my duties and responsibilities which were demanded of me, so I commissioned myself to the obligation of every task with my occasional stolen canter to freedom.

A fire horse lives for her gallops of freedom and independence, repudiating to be bound by rules and regulations of society.
She forms her own directives, like oxygen, going along with it like fuel or leaving it unattended, like heat, as she pleases.

But I am also water according to the Western Zodiac sign, just like you pointed out with all that you said. So I will not stress much on that, except just one aspect.
One of the principle characteristics of water is depth. And I like to think I possess it.

I wrote this for you, and I hope you will understand it, both literally and in depth.

When we met in that random app, I still had a little bit of charm and appeal left. But they were wearing thin and towards the end I was grappling with a repetitive theme in my life, people.

The rebellion in me needed to serve my remaining life in bliss, the reason I chose to detach.

I made my sanctuary a heavily gated prison, predominantly a repository for this fire horse who flows in her own waterfall, over her idea of rocky ledge or cliff in her own unhinged way.

I am abashed at the hypocrisy of the world. They are immersed in the ignorance of their stupidity hiding behind their masks and eventually becoming those masks.

I have neither tasted boredom nor loneliness, therefore I cannot understand the need for human company, and the reason I should readily entertain anyone needing my attention. Would that not make me a hypocrite too?

My logic is uncomplicated. I will be with you not because it is the right thing to do, I will be with you because I want to be with you. Its a hairline difference with a huge impact.

At this juncture, I need to stress, that we are living the lives others have set for us, whether it is our parents, our relatives, or even our friends, all of which are part of society we are in.

Societal accepted norms become the rights, even if it differs from ours. I am aware that rules and regulations are required to maintain order.

My wisdom will not allow me to battle against society or raise an argument to prove a point, as I will not be a nuisance in or to society, but I can escape from this slammer silently and adhere to my own rights and wrongs, without tilting their perfect picture.

We are uncontrollable whirlwinds, making our lives fast spinning pathetic disasters. We get caught up with our all knowing misery that we always complain about. We drench ourselves in our display of accolades which we continuously wear as a corsage. We decorate them as trophies boastfully adorning them as a coercion on others.

Our desperate need for attention and praise signifying our low esteem, and fear of not being like everyone else, or better, is deplorably piteous.

Social network happiness in material memories of aspired destinations, meaningless souvenirs, narcissistic portraits, status, possessions and other branded attractions are crucial elements we soak our whole lives in. We submerge in intense greed, giving rise to a profane digressed human culture.

I walk a different path, a different dimension, making a bargaining agreement, in the quiet, with people I care about.

I don’t swim their waters, and I don’t join their waterfalls. I have quarantined my soul marinating my real self with books and writing. I soak in the cadence of the screen, elevating my intelligence and touching my senses through my vision and my harken’s inflection. And in the ocean of ataraxia I float in the eudemonia of solitude.

I live amongst men like Socrates who tried to establish an ethical system based on human reasoning rather than on theological doctrine, of Marx who became stateless and was driven to exile with his family for decades, where he continued developing his banned thoughts, of Nietzche who was a radical critique of truth in favour of perspectivism, and one who made apparent that religion should be viewed in a master-slave morality, of Gibran who spoke of giving with no mindfulness of virtue, neither of pain nor of seeking joy, but freely like the myrtle breathing its fragrance into space, and a few others who have taught us to think, to be intelligent, to question and to progress.

I live with them because in their midst, I am able to still disagree and learn. I can question and still rationalize, I can be both wrong and right at the same time. I can be intelligent, cynical and curious, all at one time.

I don’t live with people around me because I cannot be those things, because they neither understand the concept nor the need, to NOT be like them. And because they are not those men, I choose my solitude.

I am emotional, but detachment comes easy to me because people have made it so. From my end, it is easier to withdraw than to give explanations. How do I tell someone, I am leaving because I value my solitude more than I do him or her?

Love is a strange word or feeling. I question love too. In fact, I have written on how love has been derived and passed on to us through centuries in my blog, which you have read.

So how do I tell you I love you if I assume it does not exist? But based on your understanding of it, and your acceptance, I will say it to define the proximity of our relationship and the feelings attached to it, and because you are able to relate to it.

I am not asserting that I am right or professing that my understanding of it all is worth a thought or a discussion.
That duration of waiting for someone to grasp or recognize my intellect in this subject is far long gone.
I acquire and gather my happiness in my quietude and passivity within the four walls of my sanctuary more than I would ever do in my aggressive arguments or passionate outcries with people.

Silence has this stillness that embellishes your intellect and judgement into prodigious wisdom. So how does one do that in the company of people?

I am content in this isolation, living my life as a hermit, silence being my everyday visitor.

But should I choose to go out to the noise, I go because I have always had a backpack heart, and I travel and see the earth and everything else in it, including the people, but that is only when I want to do so and just for a while so that I can quickly get back to my refuge, the source of my energy and life

I have a few years to live, and I want the best of it. One way to ensure euphoria for me is to terminate social networking and the other is to stop myself mingling with crowds. I hope you understand that. It isn’t the people who wear me down, it is their thought process.

Let me end with another quote I have written for you and let me explain that sometimes `i love you' is too cliche for me and borders on superficiality, so maybe with my concept and idea of love, I prefer to end with this instead, I am with you whenever you want me to be.

Suicide

I attempted suicide twice in my youth, for the obvious reasons.

No one was aware of it at that time. If they had been, I would have been branded as mentally unstable and in dire need of assistance from a psychologist. Fortunately, I had kept things to myself.

My reasons have changed and my thoughts have evolved but in an uncanny way, the suicide hasn’t.

I lived my life on my own terms. I will take my life the same way.

I would write letters to every person who mattered in my life. I would place them on the table in colourful envelopes with their full addresses on them. And then, I would go to my cabinet and take out the important files that dealt with the wills and the insurances and I would label each one so it would not be complicated to process them. Then I would write a letter to my family, with a list of people to inform of my death and their telephone numbers next to their names. I would leave instructions of my last wish for the funeral process and the disposal of my body.

And after that was taken care of, I would sit back, luxuriate on my best meal while listening to my favourite songs, and I would write my last poem while reflecting on my entire living before taking my life.


Around a decade ago, when I had started wild expeditions on my solo travels, I had wished to die in the middle of an adventure.


About two decades ago, I thought of sleep as the calmest form of death. I wanted to die in my sleep, maybe in the middle of a great dream.


And long before that, I had many notions of death but when the suicidal feelings vanished, I dwelt on different ways to die, if naturally.

I was a rider, and being on the road daily meant that my life did not guarantee my return home, so there was perhaps a streak of fear that I would leave everyone I loved, before I was ready to say goodbye. I thought of how my mother would manage on my demise and if my suicide would be a burden to the rest of the family, the very intention I was trying to avoid.

But mum died six years ago. Whereas, my dad and my middle sister left years before that. So I had only one sister to think about and of course, my two nieces, who presently are still studying.

It dawned on me recently that in another three years, I would see everyone independent and pursuing their lives in their respective paths. So I planned my final departure to be around then. I would choose a good date, like my birthday or the solstice, midsummer or midwinter. Or maybe it would be on Valentines day, the day mum died. I am not sure since I haven’t decided on the date. For now, the plan will not see me living six decades of my life.


I wouldn’t have written all this down, as one read of it all would confirm my insanity in planning a murder, in this case of myself.

But these thoughts run in my head all day long and if I do not discard them, other thoughts don’t find their way in. Most often, when we indulge in certain thoughts, we like to share them with friends but in my case, all of them had the same things to say. They insist that I shouldn’t even be thinking about such things, let alone systematically plan it. They continue to stress how negative it is to speak of it despite me telling them that I will not be committing the act because of depression or any other sorrowful dejection, uncontrollable or not.

My rationale is simple. I have lived my life constantly on a roller coaster, sometimes up and other times down. I have seen the negative, the positive and the balance. I have lived the ins and the outs. I would not want circumstance or time, and especially not an illness to decide my death. I do confirm though, that I am not a control freak who insists that everything has to go according to her plan, well, in truth, not everything, just death.

I am aware that I do not need to give any explanations for my decision, as this is my life. At this point, I would like to highlight that the believers of any religion and their appointed Gods, will vehemently prohibit and condemn suicide as sinful with punishments that follow it. Fortunately for me, I neither believe nor harbour such thoughts, so it rightly justifies my decisions.

However, I will stress again and again, as many times as I should that I have lived my life. And I am not planning this because I have a mental or physical ailment that I find impossible to handle.

Society is very particular that we do not write a blog on this topic to convince anyone to follow a path of suicide or even give a valid reasoning to it because whatever we say in regard to this topic, it will still be deemed as negative and avoidance of it is encouraged unless we speak of giving assistance in terms of psychological help or motivation to convince the suicidal person to turn around and feel the joie de vie.


But how do I write about this topic within sensible and safe parameters? How do I change a perspective? How can I convince those against it in a coherent way and how can I persuade those who wish to commit it in a sensible way without insulting gratitude?

I simply cannot preach life while speaking of suicide.

But I can give you this honest message and I hope it will make sense, if not today, maybe in years to come.

This isn’t a blog that teaches you to stop thinking of suicide, and lists you a series of what life can offer, but this is in my blogpost and is open to everyone, so if you come across it, and you are in your youth, and you have suicide ideations, then my message is that I have been through it all, the anxieties, the depressions, the hopelessness, the dark side and everything else you are or aren't going through but for certain reasons, I continued holding on to my life’s path, with much difficulty and eventually came to delight in life's indulgence with things I never imagined I would accomplish.

I have been there, done that and lived a happy life, with bouts of despair in between. The challenges did not stop pouring in, but I slowly changed my perspective and braved myself through them all. I had no help and no support, and I fell more times than I peaked, but still I would not fail to elaborate that life has been beautiful.

The perspectives and the thoughts need to change accordingly and the boomerang sent to the universe will come back the same way. So hold on a little bit longer, postpone your act and learn the other side of your grief, simply because there is another side no matter how bleak it all seems.


I made it to where I am today, which is a little more than five decades. That alone is achievement for me and even now, amidst all the problems and challenges, the little strength that emerged from it all has given me peace.

I am also an extremely and fiercely independent individual with thoughts evolving on a daily basis, therefore, I am unsure if I would alter my thoughts after three years but if and when I do commit the act, it will certainly not be because of my struggles to live.

It will be because my life was worth living and whatever follows, would similarly be on the same lines.

I hope you will do the same too, live more, learn more, teach more, accomplish more and conquer it all before your final decision and perhaps when many people change the perspective of the act from negative to positive, the resolution will be looked at differently.

And as a result, life could finally be appreciated for the blessing it has always been.

Happy New Year 2020

And so, the decade comes to an end.

Last year I decided that resolutions get us nowhere. We get all hyped up and are determined to work them out until the first week and then everything evaporates. We remember them sometime later and then try to get back to it but never seem to have the discipline to stick to them. So I relaxed last year and walked the road as it was revealed to me. I was also travelling at that time with family and nothing seemed more important than just being together so the dreams I wanted fulfilled, already were by then.

This year, the beginning of a new decade, I have a few resolutions. Some situations need to be resolved and some habits require dire change for the ripples to remain positive so I have made a list of things I will bring to this decade. I have made the pact with myself and certain matters are not to be broadcasted, so I will steal most of the details for myself. The one that needs mentioning and the most important of my resolutions is minimization.

Over five decades, I have seen more of hoarding in my family than of diminution, a disorder none of us were aware of until one day I woke up unable to breathe, most probably because I had a terrible nightmare of someone strangling me, but as I woke up, I looked around and attributed it to our inability of parting with or discarding things we were not using for years.

The excessive accumulation of items we perceived to have a need for, if not immediately, then in the future had driven us to create a cramped living condition with every corner and wall filled up, and as we aged, we could neither tidy up nor clean the clutter, stacking them everywhere and making them a part of our daily living. This not only killed me slowly but helped contribute to the constant decline in both my physical and mental health, affecting the way I function both at work and in society on a large scale.

In recent months, my attitude towards hoarding took a drastic change, and I started giving away things I have treasured for years having given them more value than they deserved.

The process of healing is yet to be completed as the corners of the house are still unable to breathe. Therefore this resolution includes giving away one item every day for the coming 365 days. It is a heavy task but not so heavy that it cannot be achieved. Along with material things, I have also included a habit or an idea or a kind of food or even people that I will do away with every single day in the coming year. I will also list them all down.

Here, I will address you, Mansi. You asked me if there was a chance I would discard you too. It is easy to say that I will never do that knowing the bond you and I have and the connection that was created by the universe. However, that isn’t my reply. You know I have always been honest with you so I hope this will convey what I want to say. I wrote this for you and for all my friends who would probably ask me the same question.

2019 has been an absorbing year. I made it to my monastery, a long awaited fulfilled wish. A sanctuary of my own creation, and a haven for solitude. I called her `Ashon’, meaning seat or posture in Bengali. But when we were kids, ma used to refer to the prayer altar as Ashon, and so I wanted that connection to my paradise.

Travel to India was frequent. We made it to the south as a family. After which, I travelled places I never imagined. After a year of writing and being friends, I met a few `your quote’ (yq) friends, one I travelled with to Hampi and Badami. Two I met in Bangalore and one more in Bhubhaneshwar. Unfortunately, I was unable to meet a friend in Kashmir, but instead I met my fellow blogger’s family. It was both beautiful and surreal.

The golden temple In Amritsar, the treacherous journey in Himachal, the Tibetan gongs and singing bowls in the Dalai Lama temple in McLeod Ganj, the Konark Sun Temple, the Buddhist triangle of Ratnagiri, Lalitgiri, Udayigiri of Orissa and the magnanimous snow peaked mountains of Kashmir were the highlights.

Snow touched me for the first time in Gulmarg after 53 years.it was such an exhilarating moment.

Duli’s silver jubilee and Putul’s adulthood made this year memorable. Also Putul’s excellent results got her a place in TARUC, at a concession for a foundation programme in Bio-Science with Chemistry which will have her sitting for the final semester in April of 2020 to qualify for her entrance to a degree programme. She has also received her full license in both riding and driving. Duli quit her job and decided to take a break to recuperate from the toxic environment of corporate life.

I remain jobless and declare that there is nothing in the world which is better than this. It is the best thing that I have done for myself, the second best being Ashon.

On advice from a fellow yqian, I created another profile in the writing app and started penning without caring about comments or likes. It felt great to just manifest everything in the mind without caring where it came from or where it was going or even if it made any sense at all. None of my work is discoverable in google but I will transfer them to IG in the next decade.

I have created a new blog only for movies and book reviews as I did not want it to blend with this blog where I am personal. I am yet to write a review there. I wanted Ali A. Rizvi’s book to be the first review but perhaps I will start with something else, a movie maybe. Duli, Putul and I recently watched a Korean movie called Parasite, a movie worth writing about.

My writing goals are fulfilled so far, however the next year has a list waiting. I have also promised myself I will at least make it to fifteen entries in the thoughtfills blog with my fellow blogger by the end of 2020. However, the major task and the biggest hurdle is to complete writing the book I have always imagined writing and if I may say so, completing.

Time is a test I will need to pass now. It is on a marathon mode presently and if I don’t start flexing my muscles, I will never catch up. By the end of 2020 I can no more complain of its brevity. Instead, I will also highlight the time I spent doing all the nothings that I want.

2020 is a year to look forward to. The world will witness self driving cars in plenty, flying cars, though highly improbable will be present even in developing countries like Malaysia. Robotics will thrive, there will be more robots, more machines, less needs for humans to perform technologically and Japan will build a robotic lunar outpost before the end of the year. The Chinese will shift attention from China to the west to gorge on any resources like timber or minerals by offering a high speed rail line completely at their cost running from the west to the east (China) in the coming decade. Also fossil fuels will take over bio fuels which will prove cleaner vehicle fleets and less dependency on volatile regions for energy. This decade will also witness computers having the processing power of the human brain, and microchips will be planted in a human brain to correct any defects on neural communications. As for our computers, 5G and paper thin OLED surfaces will wipe out all else. Apple and other smart phone companies will follow Samsung with the foldable technology and while they do that, the galaxy S11 will come out with no front camera, no charging port and no head jack. They will all feature under display with both wireless charging and earphones.

Change, being the only constant will remind us that those minds who refuse to change their opinions will cease to be minds.

I have had plenty of encounters in my life, and I hope you will too. Now as we close the chapter of a decade and open another, let your pen ink up and continue your story if you favour it, but if you don’t, it remains in your power to alter it, in any small way you can. We bid farewell to a past of learnings hoping we use those experiences to guide us in new lessons in our present and future. Fill your lives with inspiration, passion and motivation that is available both within you and around you. There is magic in positive thinking and you can turn it into a magnet to attract colossal reciprocity. You can create genius and power if you believe in it. You neither need perfect conditions nor unlimited talents, you just need to make a decision and follow it through.

My wish for you this new year is peace. The chaos will be slightly better if you don’t contribute to it and just focus on your progress so you can make some kind of change when you are able to.

In the Chinese Zodiac it is the white metal rat year, a good year both financially and progressively if you put in the effort. Therefore you will reap only if you are brave enough to sow. With that, wishing you a tranquil and a healthy year of bountiful procurements.

Happy 2020.