Thousands Splendid Suns- A Review

Figure this- 2 women, a chronicle of 3 decades, and a stunning style of writing. This is what Hosseini provides us in his latest venture. A Thousand Splendid Suns is exactly what it tells you Splendid. Set against the background of not-yet-torn Afghanistan it begins with the story of Mariam, a girl living in her own world of beauty and some breathless awestruck moments spent with her father ; a world which is later shattered by her own misgivings or fate. Married of to a man who strictly adheres to the rule that women are not to progress she remains at various points in the book unhappy credulously astounded and amazingly shattered by the antics and behaviour of her husband. Here the story is cut short to Laila and Tariq and their childhood romance reminiscent of all our first encounter with love. This world is happily broken down when tariq moves to Pakistan leaving Laila alone with a moaning mother and a hapless father. However this torture too seems better than what she begins to endure when left orphaned by her a bomb and becoming Mariam’s sister. After this her whole life is set in the bonds set up alternatively by rasheed and the Taliban, that is till Tariq comes to her rescue. The book ends with all the special effects worthy of a movie with a murder and a trial that would shock the world at large.

Chronicling 3 decades of a Nation at reckless and yet an unassuming speed with all its implausible high and lows Khaled Hosseini has kept his word with us, a word that he had to give at the end of Kite Runner- of being a great if not the best Human Interest story writer in recent times. Stupendous in his style of hooking the reader and almost making the make-believe characters and the world real is probably one of the best attributes that one can applaud this writer of. One of the many migrant writers he makes us fall in love with Afghanistan almost making us belittle and curse the Soviets and then the Afghanistanis for fooling around and destroying a land so beautiful in culture and tradition. One can almost hear the pleas and the moans of the Buddha Monuments they were being torn apart. An intrinsic view of the Taliban rule puts all our thought process in limbo at the rate at which the rulers had wanted to take the country back in time. Imbibing this medieval attitude into the storyline and crafting it this well almost makes us compare Hosseini in the same league as Pamuk.

Any overwritten parts in the narration are looked over as one really doesn’t notice these overdrawn periods assuming them to be in sync and indeed necessary for the storyline to progress. If however something disappoints it is that pattern of writing doesn’t change. Thus one has this mistaken feeling of returning to the Kite Runner every now and then. However if that is the price we have to pay then this book or must I say an abridged version of the story of a country long forgotten by the world, is a read. If not for anything for but the heart wrenching emotions it builds up in you not for anyone but for a land and people who would have been at some other place hadn’t destiny had something else in store for them.

Death at her Hands

1 pair of windows,

A door of passions

2 hearts of love,

20 downing street

And you were born

2 pairs of hands and feet

Bobbing mahogany dark heads

Long inimitable hours of wait

Incomparable periods of morning sickness

And dreams were born

A new renovated house

Crowded groaning celebrations

Squealing tiny carriages

And moments of utter desperation

A family was born

Moments of Irrefutable hope

Followed by hours of Plunging despair

The small uttering of a powerful word

Followed by decades of happy bliss

Treasures were nurtured.

Small dreams Small Hopes

Concrete words and powerful gestures

The first fall, initial moments of malady

A flash of helplessness and the surrender to ecstasy

We were re-born.

Initial symptoms that tricked

Pain that turned into unchanging agony

Bliss that flipped to fear then paranoia

Worry etched in our lives

We still lived

Dreams turned to despair

Emptiness that took control

A dark looming future

That was changing our lives

And yet we clung on.

The hours of interminable hospital waits

The sickly pungent repelling odor

The monotone of white-washed walls

The pearly white bed with beeps

It was now life

Hours turned to weeks to months

Despair ever nurtured now family

Hope the elusive lantern at the tunnel-end

We waited, we hoped, we prayed.

Past never ceases present haunts

And the mist ahead serves to frighten

And yet a hollow world we aphorized

Filled with misery and pain

An unceasing wait to regain life

To Faint and yet live.

Life is but a series of pathways now

Its meaning lost in the labyrinth of mazes

A moving train to a nameless journey

A death more anticipated

We will be born again….

Blogspeak

Hi! I am swati's blog and though i am not very proficient in the art of conveying my message to the world i am now hoping that this message reaches the people especially my creator who is on the verge of becoming the most laziest person on blogspeak.(which by the way is my own language under which i am trying to get other blogs). Anyways let me not diverge from my topic of essential conversation which is that I am now going to write about myself on myself and from myself. If any of you didn't get the meaning of this efficient method of speaking i suggest that you again but your own copy of blogspeak dictionary (extremely beneficial especially to the basically illiterate users of blogging) the reason of i me myself inventing blogspeak is none other than the wish to speak about myself but of course i already mentioned that. But the real reason has to be kept covert for none other than the fact that my extremely stupid and yet overtly profound creator might just might check on her now supposedly defunct blog and find that someone is using it and might get all hyped up and start another series of boring profoundly confusing poems about her unimportant state of mind. Now we all know that none of us are pretty much interested in reading the same things over and over again so we best let her think that this blog is defunct and therefore all our actions and motto will now be spoken in extreme terms of blogspeak security(the list of which will be appearing in rather covert language in further posts) till then my friends and other other not-so-good-friends and outright enemies........

*&&%%#$$%#*(*(

achievement, opines, perspire and bleed!
success commands, bow down and serve
spirits athirst deny this call, and suffer when freedbut
create anew,
through heavy heart, and flayed nerve.

Karthik Balsubramanium

Some moments are not the best and yet they are the ones that stay with you alwayz...
this statement made by a friend of mine struck me the most odd... you see we often characterize out best moments as the ones that would be with us and yet those are not the ones that one goes back to in time of need...when i mention need i mean those ephemeral times when one feels crushed by everything around (nowadays those times are no longer brief i must add). How do these tiny moments help us..what is their influence in our life?? Why do we give emotions, moments so much importance in our lives...i often find people around me talking about so much that i would find unnecessary to to discuss especially when the world around keeps behaving strangely like the court passing unnecessary decisions just to generate controversy as if the current scenario wasn't enough. diverting my thought here minority and Reservations seem to be the hot topic of this season just like last year and with tamil nadu wanting to provide reservations for even Catholics and Muslims may the One to whom we all humble down save us... It would then seem that only the intellectual fools stay within the bracket of majority.... Anyway comming back to my rant yeah so it was till sometime back that i realized that probably i was really looking down on these people with a very biased view.. Because you see just cause one sets a high standard for oneself dosen't mean that the rest of the world has to follow you..and also i noticed one thing i might not continually talk about those so-called time waster but yes there were times when i needed to relieve one's chest of those packs and yes again friends seem to be the best places to....So was i being a hypocrite? or was i just considering my self superior..is it acceptable to do it..consider oneself superior..isn't every individual unique in their own way..ohh no there i start with the cliche bull crap as a friend of mine would say...you c its extremely to keep one's emotions out of a particular subject... Coz even when one does work it has to deal with passion coz you do something only which will hold us to it not because it was meant to be done...


set has the orange ball
in quietude the birds rest
calm is the ocean
and turbulent are my thoughts....

turbulent wisps of longing this may be
confusion may hover the soul
loneliness or presence is not the concern
content and dissatisfaction were after all omnipresent...



swats

It's really suprising when my head is bursting with ideas n yet the words fail to impress upon me the importance to put down these ideas. this is what exactly happening... some call it writer's block, others woiuld call it an excuse but what do i cal it??? never mind here i am attempting to break these barriers that have imprisioned me...

Forgotten Streaks

I crave for sanctity
for freedom and soul
I miss the moments
of lonely quietude
of mischievous wonders
at fruits forbidden

Achieved have i
those spellbound incantations
that would lead me to believe
that the path i walk upon
be fells none of the trauma
i have thought of

and yet i wonder
of those forks that
led me, hold me
and guide me
was it sanity i looked for?
was it calmness that answered
my quest for adventure

Have i forgotten my glory?
those moments of unspoken triumph
all through woods unexplored
those ephemeral motions that go by
widout notice and yet
those that yearn for mention through heady days
of stability, peace and mobility

I have lost what i have wanted
I have regained that which i didnt expect
the path which holds me is one i cant leave
and yet is this what those unspoken triumphs
were supposed to perish with?
have i forgotton those ribbons which led me
to forests unknown and the myths which became reality?

Do i want to let the path lead me?
Do i want to let the forks decide my future?
or must i choose the stray streak of light
that crosses this path and go into innate darkness
and yet to astounding glory be answerable
for i chose to choose the dark and not be led into beauty

Ach ohh Luthien i admire thy courage and beauty
I so hold that i may follw thee too.......

The funnier part of Life

Achievement through discipline is one of your keynotes in this lifetime. To fulfill your soul purpose you will need much patience, tenacity, endurance, and most likely a long period of apprenticeship or labor. You are equipped by nature to withstand the periods of self-denial, austerity, grueling study, repetitive practice, or "doing without" that your path in life requires. Serious about your aims and, above all, a realist, you are willing to pay your dues in order to get where you want to go, and whether your goal is spiritual attainment, development of a talent, or material success, you want to go to the top. Some degree of rigorous training or hardship (inner or outer) is apt to be a prerequisite to your eventual achievement, swati, and unlike apparently "luckier" souls, you have to work hard and pull your own weight early in life. Often, too, you have to wait, to delay gratification, and plan your strategies very carefully and shrewdly in order to gain your desired ends. Through this, you develop a certain toughness and firmness, emotional detachment, inner resourcefulness and self-determination, which keeps you going when the road gets a little rocky on the way to the pinnacle you are aiming for. One pitfall you need to beware of is your tendency to become hardened and cynical, secretly envious of those whose way is less orduous or whose outlook and attitude is more trusting and carefree (irresponsible and immature, to your way of thinking). You seem to be given more "tests", frustration, responsibilities, restrictions than others, and as a result, tend to view the world as an unfriendly place or life as a struggle. It is important for you not to become bitter because of this, or to try to take shortcuts, as these will almost certainly come back to haunt you later. The first half of your life, in particular, may seem heavy or hard, while the fruits of your steady efforts come to you later

The essence of this lifetime is that you must prove yourself, swati, and this you know at a deep level, and feel as a sort of inner pressure. (it can be next to impossible to get you to relax and enjoy yourself, to waste time or money or anything frivolous, or to gamble on anything you are not certain will yield real, tangible benefits). Because of your very strong (even if undefined) sense of purpose. Even your recreation is apt to be done in a calculated manner. You weigh the potential risks involved, and usually on the side of safety, for you have a very strong head to know where you are going and to be in control. Thus, the true experience of play tends to elude you, since it requires letting go of control, a certain indifference to results in preference for a free flowing openness to the moment. You do have a rather dry, ironic sense of humor, and it is important for you to keep that side of you alive as it gives you balance and a healthy perspective on things.

The modern world has often heard of the inferior status of women in society during the dark middle ages (as they were called). Female infanticide common then repulses us; the so-called modern generation with thoughts of upliftment occupying foremost place in our minds. And yet I question you... Is this attitude only escapist in nature? Because though we the women in city consider ourselves free form the yoke of oppression of female inequality do our sisters in the rural illiterate consider themselves as lucky and as free?

This is the question that that Jha’s film tries to answer for us. A world without women, without the female support a world full of animals and the behavior of animals after catching a glance of the forbidden fruit which they succeeded in destroying- this forms the essence of Jha’s movie. Any secquence for mthe movie is worth a watch—whether it is the first glance of Kalki, or her rape the first time or the birth of a child admist caste war. These spine chilling movies sort of exposes the truth that many have chosen to ignore or probably are afraid to admit.

However some scenes like kalki getting raped time and again while being tied to the pole at the cowshed which were probably meant to evoke repulsion succeed in going a step futher. They evoke numbness after the initial shock of brutality wears off. Having chosen an excellent subject after his last venture (A very very Silent Movie) and having a great storyline Jha’s direction somehow misleads us to espect something more than rapes and more rapes on the screen. However if the intent with which the movie was shot was to create an awareness in the society about the treatment meted out to womenfolk in villages and also to enthrall international audiences with the true horror of the quintessential Indian rural social stigma faced by these same women; the effect is well executed and above felt.

One cannot find words for the Kalki( tulip Joshi) for the experience that she has undergone while shooting the movie. If today her people refuse to speak to the movie maker one can bery well understand their feeling. However the intentions of the maker and the movie were supposed to be repulsive, forceful and glaring. They have very well succeeded in this.

One thus would find it difficult to believe a life without women. After this drama it would be nigh impossible to contemplate the prospect about life at all without those whom be consider to be inferior and meant to be trodden upon. Without a past or a future Matrubhoomi truly remains in our midst with Kalki in our minds.

She was the exhalted one,
the garlanded and the most sought after
she waded through the green with sensous ease
her gait sweeping through the greatest obstacle with unhurried graze.

And Yet today she was confronting
the worst of her foes,
the worst of her nightmares.
or that was what she had been made to think.

For the monsterity that confronted her
far beseiged her imagination
the terrors that should have confined her
were themselves confined by an expression far beyond thought.

And yet the animal greeted her an old aquantiance
the non-exsistent suprise at their approach
emphasized by an eually casual demeanour
her presence granting the occassion no special significance.

Oft had she wondered if this day would approach
and oft had the thought been scorned by the pride and haught of the world
and yet the situation granted her no special importance
as though she was always meant to be here

the Lustrous black swaying as though granted
the freedom by the wind, the fragile shoulders,
held stiff by naught but a sense of belonging and pride
the feet spread apart and the hands again held as though they were made for this rendevouz

nothing mattered then,
cause consequence action inaction
the end, the future, the beginning,
was all left in a deep haze behind

all that was left tnow was an exhiliration
of undiluated pleasure, sensous and ungainly
the grandeur of the situation refused to ket her think other wise
the moment was too important to be thrown in the puddle of thoughts that made memories.

And yet came this thought through the deep haze
of the enormity and its consequences,
that could just not be thrown aside too,
it had to interrupt and ruinthe moment

And yet stiffened her iron hard shoulders
she would think of it later in the era
going by, not now,
the past and the future would be gotten into later,
not now, certainly not now.....

I wake up from the ashes
reborn, awakended and refreshed
if experience was all dat counted
i wouldnt hv been here
Recounting and narrating

In some corner wuold i have been
Experiencing and enjoying more
and yet i wantedd to be reborn
for i had seen and felt
an expanse and not allegory
unencountered by me

THe soft alluring waves
spread like strand sof delicate
black hair swept aside
by lover's hand
the expanse had beckoned me and i had gone

I had gone without realizing
dat would i never b able to come back
i would be leaving behind dat which i treasured
dat which made me
dat which was i

the winds of change induced and allured me
to go inot dat night of wonder where none could know
the difference between nghtand day
and yet gone had i
to this ignorant place

Searching for somthing i couldnt find
found did i imany things
things of which no use had i
things which would never hold me to them
things which kept me tied down

content was i never
and neither was i happy
the luaghter bibbling like froth was a farce
the smile was an unhappy one
the music was an understaatment of what i felt and had known

And yet stuck I to this hauntingly erroneus world
for here i ahd found something of which i craved
but which was being offered to the wrong me
the real me was still dormant
still glorying in my wistfull dreams

the night grew darker
and the day flew with wogns st its heels
i still did not wake,
they strtd observing it about me
the they for whom i hadnt cared

i wondered about mychange
wandered about the exact notions of its beginning
and then he spoke
spoke with the mutest words that one would find
and yet brought my illusion crashing doen

he who i ahd never even thought of as one among mine
had spoken had called to my fallling self
had given a rope of hope to my falling grace
He who made me respond through the mutest yell
he was the one who saved me

and here began my redemption
to everthing that i had sacrificed to be a part of that horrifice illusion
everything that would never be the same again
and yet i have not reached the end yet
i have to stick to lean on or to walk by

nothign to guide me by
those endless puddles and swamps
i call i yell i plead i shout
and yet all i hear is silence a never ending one
i still wait....

I still wait in search of that solitude
that grace that reason for which
'i the queen had abandoned all my subjects
had left them thirsty for a master
and yet all i get is an unending darkness

THe journey is unending
and yet i seek not anymore
i wait for the moments of lightening
to awaken and shock me to realize somehting dat never was
just like i had been astinished by HIM

Swats

Misconceptions

They spoke enough for long and hard about all sorts of things the good the bad the super evil, I heard understood accepted blindly n followed. I believed in them till my mind started questioning asking pondering and contemplating. It asked questions as a living entity posing bouncers of its own shaking the supposed firm foundations of beliefs already deep rooted and the unquestioned.

I was then called a weirdo a non-believer and an athesist. I again agreed with all they said but this time i questioned the motive and the consequences. For this I was again called a materialistic person with selfish motives and with satan in me. I still persued in my quest of questioning. Il learnt to take the closed doors as well as the hard bumps. After all noone said the jouney would be a smooth one. And then i started questioning my own idealls and beliefs whether I was right or wrong? whether my virtues were truely worth preserving or not? I could not comprehend the idea of tasking the vast knowledge of logic against the barrier based on faith and moral principles. I could not find my answers.

And all this while they kept accusing me of breaking my faith of being put in penury and beyond hell for my misdeeds. I didn't care though. I wanted to satisfy my curiosity more than anything else. I tried to adher to my own said principles and values. But the entity againg questioned the basis of these value systems and thier origins. I found that i could not challenge them. They originated to long before time. I could face this upheavel task of changing them. All this time i was being branded as a hypocrite for strying away from the path i had been sworn not to stry and trying to be lead back there. THey held me via the noose and strectehed me too far.

And finally it happened.. THe rope had been stretched too far the string broke free. Iwas free. I had found freedom in from their antiquated values and thoughts. I could think now. My mind didn't search answers anymore. Infact I didn't need it anymore. I had achieved the power of accepting things. Sermons, values, ideals didn't hold me anymore. Even my ideals had changed, they were more realistic and approachable now. THough abstract my though line went i stilll didnt care. I had achieved nirvana, I had won the batle over myslef or i believed.....

But my thoughts still rankled with unanswered questions, They buzzed in my head searching unfindable answers. While the world continued to bombard me with names and titles though i cared less now. Yet among the "they" entered those who had known me and loved me. THey asked my to change back into something i hd long since surpassed to be. They termed my a hypocrite for letting og of my own morals. I wondered if they really had meant it or were they the real hypocrites who couldn't accpet me the way i could be...


I still am seeking the answers and wandering in search of it and yet the thirst has gone leaving me just another soul groping fo answers in the dark or probably light.


never mind i like it this way [:P]

Intangible THoughts

She looked at the knife gleaming in its silvery light, just like an elf in the mystic moonlight of the midsummernight. THe only thought that ran in her cranuel veratibrium was the supposed pain on body during death. death waiting to sheath its unclean unsavory claws into pure white skin aand lay to waste those hours of scrubbing and rearing. Spreading of blood on those snowlike hands from far from desirable to her even in deat, but certain tasks had to be fulfilled, certain duties had to be taken responsibility of.

The major question of how to fulfilkl dem buzzed in hewr head.. none of the conventional ways seemed very viable or "cool" enough to follow. THen sprang a thot in her temporal lobe, grey cells put on theeir thinking cap and the great rusted wheels whirred into motion This death had to be Spectacular it couldn't be like anything ever seen or heard in normal news.... even in the death there had to be immortality.....For only immortality would wipe of the stain and revive her into the eing of her choice, only that would give satisfaction to the inconcievable longing in her pitiless soul.... The could not be rectified and the future was not acceptable to her.

She sat still for quite some time Out the window the birds sang and boys whistled. Inside time stood still silence cut the air making noise and disturbing her. Yes the past could not be rectified and the future lay pale ahead only dath would solve the agony....THere could be no more spectular ways that could gurantee her the satisfaction of a perfect death. Nothing more fatal and the stainless steel glinting its edges and thus spoke her conscience angry and tormented at the world at large, or was it at her...It spoke as a seperate identity of its own reminding her of the fatal night... Then too the kife had been glinting albeit with chocolate dripping off its surface and yet it had not shone its true colours. TOday the vividity with which she saw it puzzled her, probably had observed it too-the vividity in its patterns and hedges on the edge... wait hadn't he felt it, the pain sorrow and helplessness.

And yet she had been a woodpecker hammering away to glory at the stubborn tree. THe agony of the tree unfelt and unmoved by it. But of the deeds committed and the actions done... What of it? asked her seperate entity... No deed was too powerful or grave as to be stabbed at, and no person was that important to be killed for. Snd yet it had been done, the THought greviously haunted her the gruesome sight of blood spilt like water and splashed over the wall like sum amatuer artists fisrt impression if the world, it still filled her to horrer and rage at the world for making her do it at him for being the cause and at herself for being the effect....

She awoke from her stupor (itwas never sleep since that day) by the buzzing of the door bell She had to do it now else it would be too late, They would know that she had done it, the evidence was against her everywhere and yet they could not find it till date, they had not even implicated her but her sould had died. THe fading laughter in his eyes had more than anything but killed her. Now she was a mere existence. Again she glanced at the silver sheathed weapon the fading sun casting its last rays on its silver designs.... Her life like them was carved by an unknown entity and yet not touched by it or graced by its presence.

THe moment had arrived, the madness in her head refused to subside refued to let her live she had to die Only its outcome wouldsatisfy thepain longing and heal it completely. Courage seemed to have deserted her anf strenght faded from her supple legs. She dragged the knife towards her and...... plunged it thriugh her forever imparing her stomach and liver. The cruel metal piecered her like a sword cutting a still night's air. THe blinding pain began subsided and re-began. Her own water played a game of hide and seek with her gorming shadows all over.

YES YES Probably this was the pain he had felt when she killed him HER BROTHER but she had suffered through much greater pain in those hours of agony bearing him having him and trying to hate him... Had she succeeded by the end to hate him for his actions for having her never walk outside the cage he had built for her?No she thought, she had not inspite of all said and done she still loved him still had wanted him to live still believed in him...... The drips of her blood now sounded fainter and there was the sun playing havoc on her senses becomming brighter and closer by every second.

THis is what death feels like to all those alive and waiting awaiting I tel you I know it coz I have been reborn and thats what makes it all worth while Life and nothing more just that......

." THe past is intangible in our thoughts and the future hazy in our eyes, Damn it still didnt change" came the dim thought in the impeding darkness..............

Swati D'souza

Got bored all day.....finally finished 1984 stil understanding d book........d true meaning evades me started wid Catch-22..pretty hilarious in d beginninng..lets c let me delve in a little more...hmmm got bored to write nething serious or for dat matter nething..... spoke to many ppl today....ws irriitated wid vidya v sort of fought..... sej cald up 4 protion den patched matters wid vidya... ann cald many times 4 history m damn bored b goin to vid's farm house moro.... i feel lethargic apathic abt everything dunno kno y.........

Lost Paradise

Thunder yells, lightening answers
the earth cracks up laughing,
the mountain groans
under its own weight.

The Thunder agains yells this time swearing,
the clouds return the call this time,
opening up their wings,
the cranes soars the ghastly blue sky,
Singing in lust and admiration

The earth responds to this quail,
Opens her thirsty womb to this unquenable lust,
Satisfies the hunger and greed of those who feed on her,
those puny mortals who yeild to her every whim to gain salvation.

Eons pass, the thunder still yells,
Lightening still answers,
The earth no longer cracks laughing
the mountains seem subdued by the monsters that it once towered over.

THe thunder is still awaiting an answer,
but the clouds cower away,
In search of friendlier lands
of want and need,of greed and lust.

The womb needs no satisfaction,
THe thirst that has become a myrid Desert,
the puny mortals rule the yellow aging spreading sand,
While the Crane searches soaring the skies

Searching for a paradise that was lost
never to be regained,
while the thunder still awaits for a response
to its might,
While the Earth bows down her head
to the mortals who now rule her.....

Conflicting ideas thoughts emotions
embroil in a mind
Confused and Dazzeled by
the Mysteries of Space and time.

Moments of Silence
weaken a reslove taken
before the world had
re-awakened from its slumber.

A resolve that has yet to shape
that erractic and alacritic thought
which disappeared before
form had graced thou its presence.

Questions the Mind
the sanity of this thought
the virtue of its knowledge
the source of this light

The answers appear
fumbling and yet again confused
answers that r not really dat
which was asked for

And yet have the makings of a whole new thought
What makes these questions possible?
What insaitable need or desire?
What pondorous thoughts?

The light however remains aloof
The beacon no closer to grasp
The blind walk on
while the siighted refuse to look

The observant notice and
yet a wide berth they give
While the poignant notice, ponder
and hunger at this enlightenment

All the way into the depths of the night
leaving behind those crystals of light
that provide the spark to light
another thirsty soul in its wake...

Swati D'souza

Words and language are often said to be a very important means of communication. One means without we would go way back in history. This more than any other reason has pushed the barriers of language to its furthermost extent. This virtual world of thoughts is just one of the many modern means of the so-called commmunication circle. However how can this virtual world ggive life to an idea formed in the alienated human mind? How can one understand the phycisic of thoughts the chain of events that propogated and propounded these thoughts? The resultant behaviour may be noticed if not visibly forseen and yet one finds the idea too confined.

With this chain of thoughts events ideas and virtues I start one of the first ever blogs of my life...... one that may be a success or failure or a means to lure prospective writers under one roof of the Blogspot fraternity.