The last time I had slept twenty hours on the trot was when I messed up.Now I think after rejecting Standard Chartered, Price Waterhouse Coopers and Dr Reddy's, I have messed up again. But anyhow it won't matter after life has ended. This mistake won't endure after I am gone.I had wanted to write for a long time, long long time but it makes no love to me anymore. Infact it looks back at me and laughs at me. Laughs at me for the sole reason that I am not fidel to it.Long times, lost times, madness, coolness have left me and All I do is pretend. All my business ideas lie rotten, hating me in the silence, mouthing unheard obscenties for the lack of courage that I have shown, even after they have revealed themselves to me.I want to have the courage to make it upto them. I love you... my ideas.. you are ones which distinguish me from the masses. You are my children, you are my hope.Don't desert me ever.
I have a confession to make. We don’t have a sofa at home. We seriously don’t.. Over the last two years, whenever Vartika has broached the touchy topic of a Sofa buy, I have ended up doing rants on how the money saved on not buying a Sofa would be able to feed us for a month, in case startup went bust. (And no, I was not counting on dumb UPA government allowing Sharad Pawar to make billions running amok on the vegetable and cereals market and looting us. In that case, count that sum to last for mere 15 days. That rant is for a separate day) Imagine a 30-40k sofa and me eating it, like the borers mostly do. Tough to imagine and sad to think of. So I return to the sofa tales. Vartika knew I had make her do with those mattresses. You know how dumb I am, relentlessly pointless. Unfortunately I ran into an Ariean, and that too my Mom. She looked at me and the mattresses and then again at me, and I went ballistic. From the sensibility of an accountant, to the eruditeness of an economist (De
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