Doc1.docx

I just realized how difficult it is to write without having a topic or subject on your mind. In fact, I’ve begun writing this in an MS Word document and have saved it by the default name, Doc1.docx. I still don’t have a title and probably may not get one either, unless I spend substantial amount of time thinking. Thank you Microsoft.

Well, if so is the case, I should have chosen not to write. I would have been better off sleeping, on this lazing afternoon or may be watching any of my favorite movies. I have the option but I still choose to write. And if you have realized, I have completed one paragraph and am about to complete the second, but still nothing particular to write about.

Why does this happen? Why does one feel like writing but have no topic? Well, the way I look at it, I see the bombardment of subjects. This week almost everything under the Sun, has found some way to be associated with me. Not that I mean to give importance to myself. It’s just the dynamics! So many things to talk about, so much so that I don’t know where to begin.

Just to give a direction to this imbecile chain of thoughts, I would like to begin with my office. We’ve completed the Sprint, as they call it. Successfully! A small luncheon party to commemorate the occasion at a nearby restaurant, followed by a gust of meaningless laughs and gags, ensured that we were, after all, a Team, a good one. Notice how the mind finds everything and everyone, good in the ‘good times’. Just yesterday, I remember, having a tiff with a senior person, from this ‘good Team’ and cursing things away to glory. I showed my brave self in front of all the staring pairs of eyes. But once home, I cried my eyes out. You see, the mind is a funny laboratory. One reaction causes another one and the chain continues, like the organic chemistry.

Nothing gave me solace. No indulgence helped.

The next morning, when I stepped into the conference room, the aura had a charm about it. It was all fine and everyone took a big part in the leg-pulling, at every random person.

Anyways, I still haven’t been able to make up my mind about office. So I shall let that be.
I just read what I’ve written so far. Alas! Still, no title, suitable enough. May be, this one is destined to go unnamed. May be, this one may never be read. Would it matter if nobody ever read it? If yes, how? If no, why?

A small documentary named “Einstein’s biggest blunder” revealed to me that his relativity theory, E = mc2, is merely three-paged. I think of this again and again and still come to a conclusion about the ridicule this revelation brings. A bespectacled gentleman in the video said “Einstein gave us many answers but he left us, the scientists, with more problems.” Even the geniuses aren’t spared. But think about the three-paged theory. I’m tempted to call it a booklet, but it would be an understatement, for booklet, of course. He wrote the most admired axiom and explained it, in a way a kindergarten teacher would explain to a three year old, the meaning of education.

This was yesterday, unlike which, today is not at all eventful. One mind-rippling thing that happened is that my Papa sent me a gunny bag of mangoes, the non-hybrid, the authentic Goan Musraad. Papa knows the best. Let’s keep it at that so I can sign off for now.