Fueling Thoughts

About 24 years back, after motorcycling across India for 6 months as a voluntary mechanic with an international group (I will skip over the part covering loud rampant sex or riding dead stoned);  I was unable to sit in an office cubicle again.  So I took up on my ambition of becoming a journalist except that sans an MA degree in English or a Mass Communication diploma, I wasn't going to land a  gig in any local publication even if I had the writing skills of Harold Robbins.  So I started freelancing to build up a portfolio, which was writing 2000 words for  250 rupees and trying to cram it with at least 3 photographs as I was paid 100 per image. In a few months, my articles became a regular front-page feature on the supplements of the largest local English daily of the region.  One of my ardent fans was a  professor of Linguistics or was it Folklore, from Gauhati University who always complimented my pieces whenever he met me. One day he asked me from where I got my Mass Comm degre

  I really miss the days when spam email comprised of various ways to enhance my manhood, slimming pills, fabulous business opportunities from Nigeria or even correspondence from Ayesha,  Gaddafi's (one time) gorgeous  daughter who once solicited my help in transferring her father's millions.  As today, it's either legit Insurance companies offering to protect me or my 3-year unused car, Medical test labs trying to test my prostrates or check me for diabetes or Covid, but most of all it's the B-Schools both Indian and from overseas  offering me their fantastic and probably utterly diplomas to enhance my career or to avert a midlife crisis, for a hefty  fee of course, a student loan option included...