To Self, Practicality, Responsibility, Chaos and the Fire.

Since last year, I have decided that I'll dedicate my birthdays to something. Last year I had dedicated it to the Harmony of the Universe and Perception.

This year I have dedicated to, well, a lot of things.

Self: It is important to give importance to oneself. You'll find yourself much happier.

Practicality: Everything that I go through ultimately drives down to practicality. It is important for me to apply what I know and what i have realised and gain from it.

Responsibility: In order to achieve my aims and goals, Responsibility plays an important part. I will have to learn to multitask better and understand that I cannot screw up as much as I could have before.

Chaos: Chaos seems to be evident everywhere and in everything. It is the nature of nature. From the Stock markets to the biological structure. I have come to think of Risk as nothing but a reflection of the chaotic, imperfect human nature.

The Fire: There burns in me a desire to achieve and explore. It is this fire that is my spirit.

I have also come to believe that I have found the answer to the meaning of life. But you will have to forget the notions of right and wrong to understand it. The meaning of life is in living it. Living it completely- fulfilling your dreams. Nothing else. It's not to become a sage in the mountains or the Ambanis. It's just getting what you want- working for it. I think that this finally is the meaning of life. It gives me a strange sort off peace.

Again, there is a long way to go for me. I have written a short poem:

There is so much to explore,
There is so little time,
There is infinite potential,
There is infinite will power,
There is infinite laziness.


I would look to end this piece with my favourite poems by Robert Frost.

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.