The afternoon I longed for: But it's the a wrong place.

I longed for a free afternoon where I could sit and mail my friends or read books on psycho- therapy.
I got it.
But I was at the wrong place.

Depression, in and out.

She stood there next to Tom. I shy smile on her face, as she listened to we guys blabbing away about Bangalore Bands and the recent rock shows. She didn't seem to be on familiar ground yet didn't seem to mind either.
Bouts of depression come by to her and she takes medicines. But she falls back into it. Medication alone never helps, psychology as taught me that much.
What could be the reason behind it? What made her depressed the first time? When did it reach a state where she had to take professional help? Was there no one she could speak to and trust? Wasn't there anyone who could provide a conducive environment to bring her out of it?
In times like ours when every one is busy chasing happiness, sadness is the very thing one wants to avoid. Or is it a scared run-away from it, what is termed as the pursuit of happiness?


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Pic:
http://www.turbophoto.com/categories.php?keyword=sad+woman&cat_id=&pages=229&case=search&human=1&x=0&y=0

tired of blogger

The inside of blogger is tiring. It is monotonous. It doesn't spark creativity. It is dead. But I'm not. Blogger, make it more interesting around here!
(courtesy:http://wwwdelivery.superstock.com/WI/223/1614/PreviewComp/SuperStock_1614R-10689.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.superstock.com/stock-photos-images/1614R-10689&h=350&w=350&sz=63&hl=en&start=16&usg=__SsRQYswlUanz7jUA6b6ZsYszrCI=&tbnid=uq7tZBMzgo3HdM:&tbnh=120&tbnw=120&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dtired%2Byouth%26gbv%3D2%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DG

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by product of the conf on climate change: out of focus

I am sitting in  front of the gate of a former tibetan Budhist monastery and typing away on my frined's lap top, chilling out. Not particulraly a good idea considering that one is in Himachal Pradesh and the  climate is cold.`I'm here with the editor of Down to earth magazine and another journalist, with John Lee Hooker hooking away on his guitar in the background. I'm sitting on a tar road, with no rug or mat. This is called heights of craziness.`Never been in this place here, so checking out what it's like to`"be here".