Aham Brahmasmi

When a client keeps me waiting for what seems like an eternity – and then walks in pretending as if nothing is wrong – I just want to go “ Tumhaare liye maine chhe minute rakkhe theh – teen minute tumhaare bolne k liye, teen minute mere bolne k liyein. Tum apna teen minute gawa chukein ho. Ab sirf suno! ”

Memory, you cursed fool! You bring a slow smile to my face only to follow it up with a lightning stab of sorrow, you appear as an oasis on the horizon of my mind's desert only to entice me into chasing a fugitive mirage, you waltz in light all that once was and dangle in shadow all that could-have-been, you make me live a hundred blessed lives only to die a thousand haunted deaths. Memory, you inseparable and indomitable, you doom and deliverance, you cursed fool!

Although I did know about Jon Snow being stabbed by those who he considered to be his own men (thanks to multiple status updates of people in general and Rini’s announcement on my timeline in particular), I must confess I was taken aback by the unexpected abruptness of it. Martin, take a bow . You know how to steal away the ground from beneath people’s feet!

I'm celebrating Yoga Day too. Been lying on my bed, playing dead since morning. Shob-aashon , shavasana , the corpse pose – whatever you wish to call it – it rocks!

You see the tattoo on the underside of his left forearm, the one that urges him to always give a better account of himself even if he fails forever. You hear him saying “ Well, you know, my dream was to play Roland Garros, not to win it, not to reach the final... ”, a man unassuming enough to be honest to all and sundry. You see how hard he fights his opponents, how fiercely he battles his inner insecurities. You see how a first round casualty at last year's French Open comes storming back to win the trophy this year. Stanislas Wawrinka, you deserve every bit of the love the world gives you! And then some more.