For all the blog frequenters or none at all, for those wondering whether the blog is deceased or breathing, is it with the blog, or simply, the contributors dead? The answer to all of this is just that we are all riding are lives with the clutch pedal on. It’s the time to change gears fractions ahead of the next chicane. It’s the time to continue the engine (here, the hearts that drives men of immense wisdom) churning the revs with very modest or almost no power transmission. Only to keep it all set to pump up enormous muscle at the exit of the chicane. In plain simple words, it’s the point of our lives when we are bumping into the world of competition, technology and service.
Artist: Pink Floyd
Album: Animals
Title: Dogs
“You gotta be crazy, you gotta have a real need
You gotta sleep on your toes, and when you're on the street
You gotta be able to pick out the easy meat with your eyes closed
And then moving in silently, down wind and out of sight
You gotta strike when the moment is right without thinking.
And after a while, you can work on points for style
Like the club tie, and the firm handshake
A certain look in the eye, and an easy smile
You gotta keep one eye looking over your shoulder
You know it's going to get harder, and harder, and harder as you get older
This is where it is right now. It couldn’t have got along any better than this. Beginning with DG (he has to start this). DG’s ass has always been the first ass to feel the gush of braking inertia each time. He was the first one to get a job (sadly with MBT though), first one to turn 18 (he did nothing, it just happened to be that way, or well, all of us were born after him) and most significantly the first one to fly abroad (purely on his credentials). Rohan is working with international clients selling the Americans insurance plans, Sunny (the author) is riding on 3D models of bikes and Junior is still burning up few more gallons of fuel on the test tracks for some more time.
The scene on the circuit is beginning to heat up. The start-finish straight of this new lap has faded in the rear view mirror (the induction training, I mean). We are all running down to lower gears to hit the first of the dreadful corners of just another lap of our lives. The analogy remains the same, the rules of the game remains same. The tyres are feeling new and the brakes are beginning to heat up. Time to develop a skill set to negotiate the trickiest of turns. I am allowing the Dog in me to take over. It’s the right time to run down the gears, feel the revs of engine and release the clutch lever once the curve is nudged away.
And this one is for you Junior; often the winner of the race is the one who hits the brakes last and hits every bit of the turn when the others are just trying to nudge off the apex. You’ll see a few people ahead of you in your visor, but they might very well be a lap down, so you don’t know who the winner here is? No one does…. The entire script is off course written by something Supernatural, we are just dogs in the park.
