Digging for Meaning

in cricket. So the day before I played in a tournament organised by the company I work for where I made a cool 54 runs not out in probably 25-30 balls. I even won the man of the match award. Unprecedented. Unbelievable. Unfuckingwhatthefucktasticallyawesomaliciousinglychutzpahanebulous. Apparently, I hit 5 sixes and 4 fours. ya.. quite unbelievable. I don't remember ever scoring beyond single digits ever before. unless it was an underarm match against kids younger than me. (oh yes, i remember playing with my younger cousins 15 years ago and scoring 200+. It just so happened that we were playing in our attic, and not on the ground. but hey.. we had 'one tappa out' (one bounce out) as well. so that evens out. i hope. i chose to believe.) Typically I bowl. More specifically, I don't bat. I suck at batting. My hand-eye coordination is as bad as that of Snake's. Well, at least a snake has the excuse of not having hands. I don't. And yet we languish at the sam...

life escapes if you run after it. our destiny is nothing but to wait. a lesson fell through after having lived a quarter century worth of life. a quarter century. feels like a lot, when u say that. but doesn't really when i ask myself. a quarter century spent without any respect or regard to act of waiting. always, kicked it out of the way. or if the wait became far too imposing to avoid, i would recede back into a cocoon made of some other time and space. but even escapes become boring. waiting caught up with me. there is no escaping it. i await. i think, god is a waiter after all. he waits upon us to serve us life lessons. he waits until we appreciate the act of waiting. he holds our life until we calm down from our frenzy. and then hands the reins back to us when we can handle it, that is when the mirage of control is lifted and calm consumes you. i now understand, so to say, why have i had this desire to work as a waiter since quite a few years. it was freedom i thought earlier...