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Propaganda,water and 2 states

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Its quite an amusing fact to notice, that three popular entities , enjoying considerable importance in the contemporary times has crossed over and concurrent themselves as the subject of my thought this cloudy afternoon.I am pointing to nothing else, but the title of the post, propaganda, water and more interestingly two(2) states. The earliest of all the three is something I discovered ,was used as a lethal tool right from the inception of the world wars, the cold war and wherever there was a struggle for power, by raking up some sort of a vested interest.(For those who don't know : propaganda simply means an outlay of biased information.) With the election season occupying the majority of the news columns in newspapers and news channels, as a student of political science, I was ardently interested in waking up every morning and along with my morning cup of tea, devouring , what each political party had to say about each other and each others' false promises and mud slinging ...
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Projection

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I'd thought id broken free and that there'd be new light all around me I imagined me whistling a new tone that shone out from music both bare and taut I thought roads would seem like orchards to heaven with everything being one with the spirit that I carried Alas I'd even imagined clarity of thought that came along the tranquil space in my brain. Well I thought wrong, didn't I? I haven't tried to remember, but quite haven't managed to forget. Tranquil moments, as expected , don't manage to create music in the expected octet. The sea rumbles and reminds me of unkempt promises. Back there most certainly feels like unstable premises. As the yellow light ceases to glisten the same way anymore, As gastronomical urges cease to translate to events anymore, And mornings are just lone walks in the oh so familiar paths encore, Nothing feels the same any more. As time passes and I get engulfed in the translations of choices that I made, Nothing remai...
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The first step: Blog log

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I read about blogging the first time off a women's magazine that my mother brought back from office.It was about the rebellious entries of a blogger who named herself " The compulsive Confessor". Though small in age at that particular point of time, i read with awe,   fictitious (and real) escapades that a rebel of a 20 something year old wrote.  Blogging, I learnt later was some sort of an online diary. I got reminded of the attempts I had made at maintaining a diary on the persuation of the first grade teacher, who had decided to instil this habit in kids who had just learn basic english to make up some sentences. I'd written about a few fights in class and the food that i'd eaten in the afternoon and the dialogues that were exchanged between us back then.Few years down the line, while fishing for some books in the boarded up boxes in the attic,i came across these diaries. There were only a few entries.A duster throw around game that we had played, a teacher a...
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