Voices

One day I read something a person whom I loved a lot wrote about autumn. I remember wondering then ‘Wow, it would be nice to talk to the person who wrote this!’ I did it talk to that person but more often than not I could only see the face that hid that wonderful person whom I had seen through that writing. However I still do immensely like that short yet crispy piece of prose about autumn and that is what got me writing this :) I had come here this morning, thinking I would begin my slightly dreadful-yet-exciting battle with Reif to understand Statistical Mechanics, sitting under a tree, away from all the worries of the world. When I got here, I was greeted by a mat of golden flowers, chess boarded by leaking sunlight, a light breeze and smells and sounds of ancient and majestic trees on a glorious day. I sat down and was greeted by a confluence of light and colors! A tall Gulmohar battling with a centenarian pavement and winning, not a bit behind in its full blown orang...

Facing identity crises is one of the ongoing battles of all our lives. Our sense of identity is supposed to be (and I think it is to some extant) something that makes us humans. A large part of our life is spent trying to define who we are. All of us Batman fans will never forget the line " It's not who we are underneath, but what we do that defines us. " In a sense it is funny how we struggle and work in cubicles and take to streets just to define who we are. How would life have been if there was no sense of identity ? Moving on that from very interesting question I want to talk about (a bit selfishly I admit :D ) about an identity crisis that is quite different from others. I have my fair share of the the age related ones but this one is quite different. I can only start talking about it by not talking about it :D These are some of the photos I took last time I went home. Walking into the sunset in the last photo are my parents <3. This is where...