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Read somewhere “The best way to learn about a country is through their food”. But what about the country that distinguishes itself by offering the exquisitely delicious tea produced along the most elegantly shelving exuberant slopes?

“Ayubowan!” You are curtly greeted everywhere with a curt smile, a humble gesture and a feeling that is as densely warm as densely green the country itself is! Hospitable, warm and welcoming is how you find the place and the people. Although cradling and nurturing centuries old heritage and traditions, you discover a tasteful blend of contemporary and colonial touch permeating into the history, architecture and culture. So where there a lot of ancient temples located in the neighbourhoods of major urban centres like Columbo and Kandy in particular, these places are also studded by delightful buildings and monuments imprinting a permanent mark of colonial era on the landscape and architecture.

The society is traditional but open and educated. On one end where it attaches high reverence to the traditional and primitive figure of a monk, on the other it embraces and adopts all the modern day changes thus yielding a near homogenous multicultural mix of various ethnicities led primarily by Buddhas and Sinhalese, followed by Hindus, Muslims and Christians.

Geographically speaking, Sri Lanka can be best described as a glittering isolated thickly green island exhibiting sparkling and lively turquoise tropical beaches and coasts and an undulating landscape with lush green hilly patches in between.

Forests, jungles and wild life parks are brimming with wild life. Enjoying elephant rides and watching them bath and eat is a memorable experience. The botanical diversity and spice parks come up with amazing herbal offerings.  Amidst all that exquisite bio diversity, how can one forget to mention the delightful produce and fruits!? ….Oh my God! The pulpy sweet thick bananas and the mouth watering varieties of it! Ever taste a red banana, the king of all!? And then there are coconuts and the heavenly lychees ; And not to forget the delicious yields of dry fruits and pumpkins.

Coming back to the opening statement, if one is bound to prove it that way; Sri Lanka offers such a relishing and mouth watering variety of local cuisine to satiate our taste buds with. Local delicacies like dosa, vada and samosa make you drool. With a heavenly variety of various aromatic local tea flavours, the combination becomes absolutely exclusive. The sea food together with the native hospitality is a treat to relish. Kothu, noodles and hoppers are simply delicious.

In short, Sri Lanka with its geographical and cultural diversity and traditional warmth and hospitality presents a most unforgettable tourism opportunity. It is a wholesome package throbbing to unleash its treasures only if you are prepared to unlock the doors to this land of wonders. Here! Do I see you wearing your backpack now?

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It was surreal and engrossing. The atmosphere had a dreamlike quality about it. Mere mortals were absorbed in the sheer specter and stunned by the prevailing environment that was beyond idyllic. The unbelievable sight and the scenes unfolding were a snapshot right out of an immaculate painting that was conceived somewhere in heavens except for the fact_ it was so real and tangible yet so pure, heavenly and unbelievable.

Every living and non-living form had lost its individuality and succumbed to the overwhelming homogenizing invasion of thick and deepening snow blanket that lent a delicate white glow to the world around us. The effect was not just blinding but captivating to the extent that touched and mesmerized our every sense rendering a state of virtual trance.  

Tranquil and calm, and thanks to the incessant orchestrating display of dancing and rolling white specks of snow flakes that sailed and floated through the atmosphere in an enchanting dynamic formation, emanating from a uniform thin ash grey mist that stretched beyond horizon to the heavens unknown, a continous spray of white streak that lent its shade and painted everything white on its course, the world around us was virtually unreal.

We had just approached the scenic but desertedvalleyofKalamall draped in white and absorbed in dead calm after what had been an unbelievably exciting five hours journey from Mingora. The jeeps, almost a dozen in number, drove in close formation pressing, crushing and grading a thick blanket of snow piling heavy loads along the edges. As we entered the town, it presented an amazing look. The road, shops, hotels and resorts by the river that are abuzz and throng with tourists and life during the summers were all covered in snow and virtually lifeless. A thin stream of flowing river asserting itself amidst a huge overwhelming mass of surrounding snow was the only sign of life left in the valley. Following a steep descent that led our jeeps to a hotel by the river with its picket, parking and play area all sunk in snow. Drawing a sigh of relief, though still unsure that we had actually made it that far in such conditions, we disembarked while it was still snowing heavily. There we were served freshly cooked delicious lunch that we savoured in extreme cold.

The snow jeep rally, a peace initiative and an absolute fun filled adventure, was organized by Islamabad jeep club during the first week of Feburary. In all there were about thirty participants and a dozen jeeps that participated in the rally. We had started our journey in drizzle fromIslamabad motorway toll plaza almost a day earlier. Drive to Mardan and Mangora had been a smooth and pleasant one rendered even more enjoyable by the spell of rain that continued throughout the journey. Owing to the frequent military and police checkpoints that have been established after the Taliban insurgency in the area and rain, the journey was slow and it took us about six hours to reach Mangora. Hungary as we were, there we feasted ourselves with the tantalizing and delicious local specialty of chappal kababs and satiatied our taste buds. It was raining and quite cold in Mingora. Soon we were led to our hotel in Fizza Ghat and tired and fatigued we retreated into the warmth of our sleeping bags in utter cold.

It had been snowing heavily in Kalam for the last couple of days and the weather forecast predicted the wet spell to continue. That amounted to increased possibility of land slides and blockage of Swat Kalam highway and lent more flavour to the adventure. Taking into account the eventualities and the exciting challenge that were to be encountered, we took an early breakfast and start next morning. It was Sunday and still raining in Fizza Ghat when we left our abode aroundhalf past eight in the morning.

Hustle and bustle as we get ready to depart

The scenic Swat valley was awash with a fresh tinge of damp and lively green surrounded by hills all coated white by steadily descending snowline that was gradually approaching the valley. There was an air of freshness, charm and serenity about the atmosphere and it felt wonderful to be back to peaceful and calm Swat after a lapse of many years. 

The rally was led to a Military unit in Madyan where Lt Col Nadeem and his unit had hosted tea in the honour of president and participants of the IJC. The officers emphasized the point that the peace had been restored in the valley and the plans were underway to transfer the administration and management of the areas to the civilian authorities. It was noteworthy to assert that most of the natives wanted the tourists back to the paradise of Swat to stir up economic activity that would in turn benefit the local inhabitants. They were thankful to the participants of the rally as activities like these should help a good deal in bolstering the confidence of the visitors and the first hand experience and knowledge would trigger increased flow of tourism in the region.

Drive from Madyan was a lifetime experience, enchanting and besotting to say the least. As soon as we had approached the twin settlement of Bahrain, we were greeted by a fresh torrent of sleet. The showers of rain soon froze and transformed into the remarkable haze of snow. From thereon it was all a breathtaking journey in snow, with heavens and nature particularly generous and kind to have unveiled the most mind-blowing views and specters of its purity and raw beauty upon us. The road, more appropriately a gradually ascending trail along the winding and gushing river Swat, was all covered in thick layers of snow and the already thin traffic almost died out. Military excavators and graders were engaged in clearing the road along the slides at some occasional spots while we continued to tootle along through the beautiful scenery, pin-drop silence and utter calm.

Whatever scant number of locals that had decided not to migrate during the extreme winters, were well informed and eagerly awaited their guests and greeted us as we drove along the sole snow covered road that bisects the Kalam bazzar. Notwithstanding the hostile spell of falling snow, even in acute cold a sizeable number of locals had thronged the plane at the exit of the Kalam where the rally was scheduled.

The jeeps approached the arena and the drivers came up with enormously bold, daring and deft maneuvers and feats as they drove and waded their way through hip high layers of snow. Locals particularly enjoyed the spellbinding performance of various drivers. It was heavenly to roam and lumber through the heaps of snow in that sublime and pure atmosphere amidst a cluster of tall alpines all cloaked in white.

 

After a couple of hours as the darkness began to descend upon and engulf the peace of picturesque Kalam valley, we drove back to the comfort of our hotel rooms (if it may be termed so considering the lack of any heaters but a few LPG stoves that sweated miserably to make any impression in the freezing cold that penetrated right through the bones). It was still snowing while we had a delicious dinner together and cake cutting ceremony afterwards. We survived through the extreme of that deadly cold night, half asleep and half awake somehow to find a lovely morning greet us with a promising dawn.

 It had stopped snowing sometime late in the night but our jeeps, courtyard and surroundings were all sunk in thick layers of snow and frost. The conditions were still overcast and it was a perfect morning to take a walk and explore the heavenly surroundings. Valley and bazaar of Kalam was unbelievably calm and all buried in meters of fresh snow. As far as the vision could penetrate, all we could see was a uniform undulating sheet of heavenly white spread all across filling every trough and crest alike.

 

After the breakfast, the prize distribution ceremony was arranged that was attended by an ex-nazim of the area and a few military officers in addition to the participants. It was time to depart as the sun finally peeked from behind the clouds leaving us dazed with excitement as did its reflections dazzled our sights.

 (More snaps and details on www.ijc.com.pk & www.pakwheels.com  under Snow Cross 2012 )

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Another worthy contribution by Mrs. Delirium

As we make headlines again for all the wrong reasons, this time we should be given the benefit of the doubt because they were not our doing-not exactly, so to speak.

So following our national sport of evading responsibility and blaming others, this time it is the Almighty himself who is to be blamed. The Heavens have turned against us in the form of floods and that tiny thing causing that beastly disease–Dengue.

 Since this time surprisingly it was not our not-so-friendly-neighbors infesting mosquitoes and using them in place of nuclear weapons, nor was it a conspiracy on the part of the superpowers using them as micro drones. Of course, there is always the theory of Biological Warfare by our enemies using the mosquitoes as a vector. By the way our population keeps on growing by leaps and bounds; it will take them a while to commit genocide, even if they wanted to.

The popular view is that Azaab-e-Ilaahi has descended upon us to punish our deeds. Not that there is the slightest of doubt in anyone’s mind regarding the Almighty’s displeasure with us as a nation. We are guilty of all the evils mentioned in the Book and failing to acknowledge them beneath the cloak of self-righteousness.

These natural disasters if anything have ripped apart the gaping holes in our system. Our lack of basic infrastructure and myopic vision making it impossible to respond to any disaster is apparent. The Japanese had their earthquakes and the Americans had their hurricanes in the not too distant past. Undisputedly, they are rich on resources available at their disposal. But how we have managed to use/abuse ours is also a study in itself. The damage inflicted has been blown out of proportion by our own incompetence.

While there will be innovative means deployed to raise funds for the floods (conferences, telethons etc.), one wishes the same imagination had been used for something erstwhile in apprehension of the impending floods.

The Government has responded with surprising alacrity to the Dengue crisis, but while our neighbors have been successful in containing it through research, we chose to ignore the problem when it could have been effectively dealt with without causing the large-scale damage it is causing today.

However, it is also in moments like these when one sees the spirit of nationhood re-kindled and everyone contributing in whatever way they can to help. Also, it is amusing to see the local health authorities preaching lessons of public health, long forgotten and never implemented upon. Overnight, we seem to have discovered the benefits of keeping our environs clean and realizing the importance of prevention.

And in a typical hypocritical way, we would spend more time organizing en-masse prayers than take any practical steps for this purpose but the hand of divinity is omnipotent and ubiquitous, like a variable biasing the end-result of a spreadsheet. Because when one has managed to the best of one’s ability; we conclude “Dua karein. Allah behter karega.”

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After twenty six hours of hectic journey from home, I asked the driver to stop the bus. With twisted necks and aching backs (lets not go down to more aching and sensitive areas for the time being), we disembarked the passenger bus at the narrow Raikot Bridge (1280m ASL) built over raging and gushing Indus waters. A gust of hot dusty wind greeted us as did the towering barren rocky mountains surrounding the narrow gauge in the middle of nowhere. My only companion looked at me in utter disbelief searching for some signs of insanity. In my defence, ignoring that probing look, I wore my backpack and braced my hiking stick pointing towards the rickety jeep-likes reassuringly as I started walking across the bridge. The young man followed helplessly.

We embarked on the jeep_ the first one in the queue offering a standard deal. Soon we found the fit for purpose, strange modern day innovative invention ascending and negotiating unbelievably sharp twists and turns disappearing into the barren mountains. The narrow stony track laid on loose rocks and soil along the precipice was an amazing engineering marvel; As if cut and laid to perfection just to accommodate the pair of tyres separated by a standard tie rod and nothing more. Extension of a singular inch would have meant a complete waste of resources. A negative error in width, however, remains both acceptable and a possibility.

Driving that jeep-like requires special skills and merits particular mention; Whereas, the right hand stays firmly on the steering wheel, the left continuously juggles and orchestrates between the steering wheel and hand break moving in exemplary rhythm and in sync with the foot juggling between the clutch and brake pedal. The spasmodic juggling and dancing of the struggling driver continues for well over an hour before you are transported to a lovely green speck amidst the towering barren mountains named after the hot springs flowing there_ Tato.

See! Jeep wider than the track

A serpentine? Meandering track clinging to the face of the mountain along the precipice

The collapsed old bridge provided the first taste of the exciting challenge on the trip. While the re-erection was going on, all pedestrian traffic across the bridge was stopped. The only alternate was to cross the stream along a narrow reach where the makeshift path on reposing face of the muddy formation of the mountain was continuously dissolving and sliding.

Bed of roses! Crossing the stream

Erecting the bridge; Community at work on self help basis

 

If you are lucky and a chosen one, you are able to hire another jeep across the bridge for a short ascending ride to a place called Jhail. Welcome to the reality. Yeah! That bites. That is where you have to start the trek officially. Standing in the blazing sun that is beating down; Amidst stony rocks radiating all the afternoon heat; Landscape sparsely vegetated; A gushing mountain stream flowing through the gourge and the towering snow clad Bulder peak, from its immense heights, staring down at you.

You trail down, cross the stream and continue to walk upstream along a moderate grade. Half an hour or so on the trek, along a path that begins to sprout junipers and pines, you are led to the Fairy point; The first potential stop over in a peaceful spot at an elevation of 2,666 m with abundance of water.

And then they insist on calling it ‘Fairy point’

Brace yourself up for all the challenge and excitement that ensues. The hike to Fairy Meadows is amazing but a bit demanding. You start your walk along a stony and muddy trek laid in a narrow gourge surrounded by lofty mountains. Following a moderately steep grade that ascends sharply, the distancing raging stream and the ravine getting farther down, the landscape begins to widen and unfold, exposing the overflowing treasures of immense beauty. With Rakaposhi at a distance right behind you, rapt charm and glory of Nanga Parbat peeping occasionally from behind a shroud of sky rocketing peaks, though dwarfed miserably in comparison with the matchless heights of the giant, all clad in white for kilometers, in particular, is almost spell-binding. 

The higher you rise, the bewildering it gets. Pine growth thickens_ Their fragrance permeating and suffusing the air. There is plenty of water and the landscape turns green and rich. Finally a sharp ascent and a demanding walk leads to the top of the wide plateau and an unbelievably amazing clearance marked by verdant meadows and thick clustered pines. The magical place is called Fairy Meadows.

Located at an elevation of (3,306m), the resort offers basic wooden cottages and camping to the tourists. Hot water facility, wash rooms, dining halls and basic electricity are the ultimate luxuries unknown to the trekkers else where in Pakistan where we have to thoroughly plan and organize it to the last nail. 

The meadowof fairies;

Fairy Meadows offers the most stunning views of the Nanga Parbat round the clock_ its changing hues and shades, glistening in moonlight and sparkling in sun rise. The aerial views of the surrounding slopes, gourges, streams and mountains, once you walk to the edge of the ridge showcase mesmerizing beauty. Serene ‘Phantoora’ lake exhibiting its mythical beauty is known to host and attract descending fairies, unfortunately, not when the devils (like me) are around. Murmuring water courses with refreshing and revitalizing ice cold crystal clear mineral rich water add another scale and dimension to the dreamlike atmosphere. Natives are extremely hospitable, courteous and welcoming yet you are not supposed to take pictures of their settlements and ladies in particular.

Lush green pastures of Fairy Meadows

A gradual uphill afternoon walk on a trail that runs amidst a thick cluster of pines along a murmuring stream unravels the idyllic heavens on way to the scenic Beyal camp. Beyal camp ( Beel camp in some books) is a small romantically tranquil camping spot located right at the foot of towering peaks by the stream at few kilometers from Fairy Meadows at an elevation of 3,500m ASL. Well clear of the pines and growth, the vista is wide and clear, the place appears as if captivated amidst a cluster of magnificent heights. 

Quaint flavour of life; Beyal Camp

A scenic walk to pictursque Beyal Camp

The trek traveling upstream along the stream from the Beyal camp is gentle to start with. You encounter lush green grassy planes and junipers along the course. Gradually, the ascending trek leads you to a lone giant rock standing at the verge of a vertical cliff. As if the skies shift and part, an unbelievable and mind-blowing horizon of surging peaks, huge masses of snow and glaciers encompassing the world around you appear in close proximity invading your field of view.  This is lower view point (3,667m ASL). 

From thereon, it requires shifting gears with the trek offering greater degree of challenge and resistance. First of all, it is a stiff walk up the steep hill along the inclined face covered with birch trees. You part ways with the stream and gain height quickly, the views becoming increasingly scenic. Frozen Rai Kot glacier running for miles endlessly, the crevices with gaping mouths belching at every drop of a slide or an avalanche. Once you climb to the top of the hill and further beyond to the upper view point, the vistas expose a whole new surreal world before your eyes. You literally see the clouds of snow soar to the skies accompanied by thundering sound of avalanches intermittently at one point or another. That is where you find yourself enclosed within a cluster of peaks surging jointly in formation of a half circle comprising the most lethal, naked and vertical north face of the killer mountain Nanga Parbat (8,126m ASL) as if offering an insurmountable resistance and line of defence with howling terrifying seracs and avalanches guarding the majestic heights, ridges and cliffs of royal Nanga Parbat. From north to south, roughly, the peaks stand in order of Bulder (5,602m), Rai Kot (7,070m), Chongra ( 6,448-6830m), Silver saddle or Daimer Gap, Ganalo (6,608m), Juliper North and South( 5,245m & 5,206m) together with immense unruly glaciers running for miles and miles.

On your trek to Nanga Parbat base camp following a walk on a narrow goat path along a ridge overlooking Rai Kot glacier, it descends to a stream originating from the melting Ganalo glacier. The water level soars significantly as the day progresses thus making it harder to cross later in the day. Once you cross the stream, the trek rises to the top of a ridge on the base of the snowy mountains. Another descent leads you to a narrow reach of Ganalo glacier marked by ice walls and big boulders affording access across the glacier where you listen to the melting and trickling of ice blocks right under your feet. 

Crossing Ganalo glacier; On way to Nanga Parbat base camp

Vertical heights; Either keep your eye on the top or keep your cap on your head. Choice is yours!

Following the glacier, the trek rises again leading now to a wider grassy plane and meadows in the wilderness with wild flowers above the tree line. Nestled between the monumental peaks, Nanga Parbatbase camp (3,967m ) offers breathtaking views of the surrounding mountains, glaciers and huge masses of snow and frozen world. Situated at a stone’s throw is Drexel’s Monument built in honour of four Germans and six porters who lost their lives in 1934 in a storm followed by death of seven climbers and nine porters who were buried alive in an avalanche that swallowed their camp in 1937. The latest in line was Karl Unterkircher who lost his precious life in his quest to climb the bloodthirsty monstrous North Face in 2008.

 

Steeped in exotic thrill, fun and adventure, the hike is besieging and ecstatic right from the word go until that nostalgic moment when you cross the dangerous wooden bridge over the hundreds of feet deep ravine and throw your backpacks into the jeep again only to return to the dins of life across that land of fantasies that gradually sinks and engraves itself into the layers of your memory with each distancing moment and mile.

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It has been one bewildering week. Soaked in freshness, permeated in raw beauty, bathed in exuberance. Loved every minute and moment of it_ Like being transported to a surreal land and heaven of fantasies, dreams and fairies_ And it all felt so intoxicating and unreal; So out of this world! 

 

Felt like reaching out to the skies and touching the naked face of vertical cliffs and majestic mountains. A cluster of glorious peaks encompassing the mere mortals, from one end to the other, making everything look so ordinary and microscopic in comparison with the grand scale of the surrounding universe.

 

  

More to follow. Until you begin to get a feeler and a vague idea what the experience must have been like!? And just wondering, if you can figure out and name the places, I have been most fortunate to set my foot on. Lets see!?

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And this time around it was just not a hike. What spiced up all the fun was what followed shortly. On our way back to Abbottabad from Nathiagali we took the new partially completed alternate road being laid. On its winding course it leads to a lovely water fall locally known as ‘Aab Shaar’.

Aab Shaar ( The Waterfall )

 The narrow road bisects the thick heavens of pine jungles unveiling the idyllic beauty of the mountains, villages and lush green fields. Permeating raw beauty and purity that suffused the environs reminded me of the childhood trips on now much developed and commercialized Nathiagali Abbottabad road being brutally stripped of its natural treasures.

Guess what! The best part is yet to come. Upon his insistence, we decided to stop at the native village of one of our mates near Bagnotar who was accompanying us on the trip. As it turned out, the lovely mountain village perched on top of a hill sat romantically across a hundreds of meters wide and at least one thousand feet deep ravine. The only alternate access, other then crossing the stream on foot, is rendered by means of an innovative generator operated cable car look-alike installed by one of the domestic investors.

‘Galiyaat Cable Car’

 Just like the sighting of the Eid crescent ,the instantaneous sighting of the queer conveyance gadget without appropriate warning triggered a couple of immediate in volunteered reactions. As expected, I went berserk with thrill and excitement, adrenaline pumping high. To an equal or even greater disappointment, the mates refused to take the risk of the ride. It took the best of my negotiations and motivational skills, some oratory, eloquence and rhetoric, rich incentives and good emphatic fifteen minutes of coaxing to finally win all the votes if not hearts.

The ride, eventually proved to be much fun. No less thrilling than the cable car ride to Santusa islands from Mount Faber in Singapore or a long delightful ride to Genting heights near Kaulalampur. The village was a blend of colours , revealing a glimpse of gay rustic lifestyle and culture with increasing infiltration of modernization and urbanization. Adobe houses are paving way for concrete construction, the slanting tin and asbestos roofs being ruthlessly replaced by flat roofs. The arenas are getting bigger and wider whereas the households are shrinking to smaller numbers progressively diminishing the sense of sharing in all probability. The simplicity and naivety is losing its irresistible spontaneity, although the exemplary hospitality, warmth and open heartedness prevails and I sincerely hope it lasts as it steadily has for centuries.

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Give and take is the universal principle. No exceptions. Not even divine. It applies everwhere. You lose some. You earn a few. That’s how it works and is bound and meant to be. No two ways about it.

In every relationship, we maintain a joint emotional bank account with that other self. Be it your spouse, dear or loved one, parent, child, mate, buddy, pal, friend, customer or an adversary for that matter. There is a continous stream of sprouting transactions taking place all the time, all the while, from both ends with or even without every exchange. Incessant deposits and withdrawals. Unending debits and credits.

Little things make huge difference. Small acts mean big. It is not the word or act, kind or harsh, but the potential or value that translates into and brings about that corresponding debit or credit that really counts. It is all relative and it all varies with relation to the uniqueness of the other self.

So it is not just what is said that is important. Equally or perhaps more so are the unsaid words and undone deeds. The unexecuted transactions having an enormous potential to turn things around or tip the balance. Then what is left to retard the bonding ?  The barriers! Ego, apathy, priorities, time and other resources or lack of understanding and realization ? Or are they just taken for granted ?

And what are these said or unsaid things, done or undone deeds tied with ? Expectations ? Is that what assigns a value to any realized or unrealized transaction ?

Apart from unique and distinct personalities, these expectations are entrenched in mutual communication. When there is symphony or harmony of thoughts and understanding, it  all flows and sails in unifying rhythm and sounds melodious, reinforcing the beats to kindle an enviable resonance. Whilst, the lack of it creates a sheer noise and distortion.

The golden rule is ” Try first to understand and then to be understood……”  But is it that simple!? You bet your fortune! Much much easier said than done !!!

In theory and text book, it is still damn straight and simple to deal with. Communicate. Identify and remove the underlying causes. Avoid potential conflicts. Avert ugly situations and confrontations. Understand the realities. Expect little or nothing. Give selflessly. Don’t demand and be happy and content with whatever comes your way.

Pratically, it gets increasingly winding and stringent  when you encounter the intricacies involved and revelation and surfacing of multiple overlapping paradigms and domains. What does it all lead to ? Avoidance or abstinence ? There is a big tag dangling with it. SELF DENIAL! Now where do we go from here?

In the end, the analogy may seem mundane, businesslike, absurd, bizarre and even mean and insulting being applied to most endearing, palpable, intangible and selfless emotions such as love, trust and care. But then why not ? When every single thing is destined to undergo or supposed to be subjected to some sort of simulation. Even all our virtues and sins would be evaluated eventually, deciding our ultimate fate or so we believe! Broken down into numerous tiny numeric pieces against a yardstick whose guagability remains an enigma. But it is going to be something MEASURABLE and QUANTIFIABLE, specific and relative for sure. Whatever the ultimate unit or tool is supposed to be.

To conclude it all. Let me assert. Loud and clear. What has been a tacit belief and understanding so far or not been uttered with all that vigour.

You mean a lot to me. My friends. All of you. A blessing in my life…….

Lest those words remain unsaid and are lost, silenced and buried in the sands of time or shadowed by merciless and endless shrouds and currents of oblivion without getting themselves registered or counted………   

Now I want to embed the link to the video ‘ I want to spend my lifetime loving you…..’ by Marc Anthony and Tina Arena but this damn thing in my hand won’t allow. So if someone would be kind to do me the favour ? No returns guaranteed

 

 

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