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One for the future

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          There is no fundamental difference between man and the higher mammals in their mental faculties. The tendency in [humans] to imagine that natural objects and agencies are animated by spiritual or living essences, is perhaps illustrated by .My dog [which] was lying on the lawn during a hot and still day; but at a little distance a slight breeze occasionally moved an open parasol . . . every time that the parasol slightly moved, the dog growled fiercely and barked. He must [unconsciously have felt] that movement without any apparent cause indicated the presence of some strange living agent. – Charles Darwin, the Descent of Man As I was scouring my mental space for possible beginning of my presumptuous blog, I stumbled upon this ingenious explanation by Charles Darwin to sum up religion as simple as possible. Before you jump on the high wagon and start dishing out curses, I implore you to hold your horses for few minutes and open up your mind of re...
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Food for thought

Every morning a man wakes up to the nuisance of his alarm only to switch it off  and go back to his sweet sleep for another few minutes dreading the inevitability of going to work to make ends meet. He suddenly imagines starts questioning the purpose of life and meaning of everything around himself hoping to miraculously solve quintessential questions of life that’s been nagging human kind for centuries. Obviously, he does not succeed and finally gets up at some point of time to carry on with his daily routine.   There is another man who is busy, gets involved in his work, and loves to take on new challenges in his work and a real social person who is always chirpier and cheerful around his colleagues. He gets on with his gruesome work looking forward to complete it as best as he can and getting back to his home and family to spend his evening with them leisurely. End of story.   I know it is bland and missing excitement or any kind of purpose a story usually have ...
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Breaking hiatus

As I stare into this blank white page gathering my wildly racing thoughts and trying my hardest to finish a sentence before another notification distracts me and pulls me away into mind numbing abyss, I finally muster up all the ounce of writing courage to wake myself from a deep slumber that I slipped into unbeknownst to myself few years ago. Old memories started to flicker and just as a baby learn to speak; I try to find the prose and vocabulary of writing that once cast an enchanting spell on me. ‘Old memories die hard’ they say, oh! Wait, who said that? I know I have heard it somewhere and without further ado I google those words and voila there it is ‘A poem by Francis Duggan’ and a beautiful one at it too.   The best years in my life by now are well gone But fond memories of what was are still living on Like the song of the robin and the sweet scent of hay In the warmth of the sunshine of a nice Summer's day Old memories die hard as some do like to say And for as long ...
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