let's get filthy!

Ever wondered why they say-filthy rich or stinking rich?
I mean what's so filthy or dirty about being rich or having some extra money?

No this post isn't personal and I do not fall in that category, but I have nothing against those who do. In fact I kind of like them if they have reached the 'filthy' position on their own

I hope to someday be there. Someone once told me, 'you know you are rich when you don't look at the price tag'. How true! I always look at the price tags whenever I buy anything. And whether or not I like something is always a function of how much that thing costs and if it fits in the 'value for money' frame in my mind. Can I ever buy anything without thinking of its price? I don't know. Never had that much money! Even if I did, could I break free of my middle class mentality, only time will tell.

If I had the money, would I be happy? Can money bring me happiness, that's a debate I do not wish to enter. How much is too much, I will get to it when I have the money.

For now I just wish to be 'filthy' rich! And I am willing to stink!!!!

Good to be back

It's good to be back to normal life

It's good to be back to work scene in middle of all of the action; to be back to Dubai; for reasons more than I can put in words or can accept on a public forum

It's good to be out of the self imposed exile

It's good to be back to the blogger!!!!

Muah! Muah to life!! Muah to me!!!

lost and found

I used to have a pen. Not an ordinary pen. A Cross pen. So what's extraordinary about it, you ask!
Well, this pen was not any other pen coz it was close to heart. (do you have a heart? You r free to ask, but I will leave that for some other time).
So this pen was close to heart, and I mean every word, with special emphasis on 'close'. It was a gift, a very precious gift. By someone very special. And more, if there is any word to describe it.

And one day, this prized possession disappeard. Just like that. Vanished from my desk. I was spaced out for many days. Mentally kicking myself every minute of every day for having lost it. How could I just allow someone to walk in and take away something that I myself used with extra care, always fearing to spoil it,(ever imagined someone not using a pen!!! that's how special it was).
It was not losing the pen, it was about losing the feeling attached with it which freaked me.

After a mourning period befitting the status of the pen, I tried to get over it. Life goes on I told myself. And it took me more than 6 months to move this shock to the back of my mind. I still hadn't forgotten it, mind you.

And then one fine day, yesterday, I walked to my work station. And something shiney caught my eye.I approached it with caution. Nothing is to be trusted when you have been away from office for 6 months, and your status has already changed from don to visitor! I picked it up, and my heart missed a beat! It was a pen, my pen, 'the' pen!! I picked it up delicately, like a surgeon would pick up an organ, only that his hands won't tremble like mine!! I examined it thoroughly - it was indeed my pen, the scratch that I had accidently put, giving away its identity and removing any doubts that I may have had.

Someone could have left it there by mistake. But this was no accident, it had been very carefully planted on my desk, such that I couldn't have missed it. And someone would have known that I was in office on that day (given that I go to office only once a month or so). Whatever it was, accidental or incidental, I have that special pen back.

And I am wondering, why did it have to come back now? When I was progressing nicely on the get-on-with-it path.

But I am happy to have it back, and I know I m happy coz a smile crosses my face unknowingly when I see it everytime.