Beside the walls of a nameless monastery in Bhutan, I sat and wept. May be it was the fresh crisp mountain air that caused it. Or may be it was the shy innocent smile of the little Bhutanese boy who posed for our cameras. Or may be it was the solemnity of the prayer flags, with prayers written on them in some indecipherable script that fluttered wordlessly in the wind. Or may be it was the breathtaking scenery that we could catch from the Bhutanese mountainside during our family's North-Eastern holiday. But there on that hillock, beside the huge granite walls of the monastery, whilst surrounded by an envelope of love and comfort, a tinge of unexplained sadness unexpectedly came up and made itself evident on my face. Beside the walls of a nameless monastery in Bhutan, unseen and unknown to anyone, I sat and wept.

At the balcony of a famous church in Mahim, I sat and wept. A confluence of faith, perhaps that was what I was not prepared for. In the wee hours of a grey morning, as the world around slowly woke up, people from all faiths and all walks of life congregated together to offer their prayers to The One Above on matters that were beyond their domain or control. A quiet morning rhythmically rippled with sounds of profound prayer, of sincere wishlists and supplications and mercy requests. Some prayers were trivial - like success in exams or settling a property dispute, and some were serious - like recovering from brain surgery, triumph against cancer and things like that. But I still wonder what it was that got my eyes wet that morning. A complete surrender of egos, maybe? Tears flowed down freely, from my agnostic eyes inquiringly raised upwards to heaven. And all around me, the air brimmed with the soothing monotone of quiet prayer. At the balcony of a famous church in Mahim, I sat and wept.

One day long long ago when I was nineteen or twenty, I sat in my living room and wept. And wept. And wept. And wept. Wept for four hours straight. It as a crazy kind of sad day, the kind that particularly reminded you about how useless your life so far has been. And I wept inconsolably. Wept at opportunities missed, and battles lost. Wept at promises unkept, and words broken. Wept about relations who passed away, and friends who moved on. And solemnly promised that should a new day dawn, I would ensure to keep my promises, learn to seize my days, hunt for long lost friends, learn to grow out and grow up. One day long long ago when I was nineteen or twenty, I sat in my living room and wept. And wept. And wept. And wept.

Standing by my granny's grave on a beautiful Kerala morning, I sat and wept. Wept about times that I was never around for her, times when I was a difficult teenager coping with life at my own terms without a thought to others, wept about all the love that I took for granted, wept about all the pranks I've played on her along the years, wept about my inability to let her know how apologetic I felt looking back at myself with wisened eyes. And a light rain put pitter-patter designs on my clothes, diluting my tears as if washing them away. And I hoped that just for one single moment, I could hear granny's voice telling me once again to chase my dreams and never give up, the same last things that she told me from her bed before she moved on to a different world. Standing by my granny's grave on a beautiful Kerala morning, I sat and wept.

From my thyphoid-bed, I sat up weakly and wept. But that was not before letting out a war hoop that made a lady from an adjoining building to open her windows and see if there was an errant gorilla on the loose. The CA exam results were announced, and as testimony to several months of sleepless nights and restless days, I had made it with a brilliant margin. From my thyphoid-bed, I sat up weakly and wept.

Damn, I've wept a lot in my life. And still the HR department points me out to new joiners as someone with a ready smile?

"Steel, Plastic Man, Huntress, Oracle.. all are sleeping. So how come we are still awake?"

"I don't know, I am always awake, Superman. I was a guardian angel. I haven't slept since the dawn of creation... I did not want to miss any more dawns that good."

- Superman to Archangel, Justice League of America, Issue #4, "It"

"Baatein, bhool jaatein hai

Yaadein, yaad aatein hai

Yeh yaadein, kissi dil-o-jaanam ke

Chale jaane ke baad aate hein

Yaadein, yeh yaadein..."

 - Title track, OST: "Yaadein"

Currently Reading: “Every Second Counts” by Lance Armstrong, Asterix and the Great Divide, Fundamentals of Business Valuation

Song-in-my-head: 'Sunrise' by Norah Jones