Deserve

I always get what I deserve....including the mouthfuls :)

Noticed - Releif (Short Story)

He was there yet again not knowing the ‘What’. He picks up the phone after it started to play that horrible ring tone which he had chosen after a lot of deliberation few months ago. ‘Haan... were the only words he started off with... he removed his specs...wiped his eyes...scratched his head... drank some water...said...”give me sometime... I guess I need more time”

He wore his specs, smiled with confidence and shame, and continued his work. He was happy, the unnoticed was noticed. Relieved!

On the roads – the psychology

Um........ I don’t know how many of the people have had the experience of driving/riding cars/bikes on Indian roads. I am sure most of my blog readers do have. I have been riding my bike for years now and have started again after I have returned to India. It has been great, great experience being there, in the midst of chaos. All of them complain no traffic sense, no rules being followed, bad roads, blah blah ....and I don’t deny any of that. All of it is true and you would know if you are a part of it every day. It is easy to notice it; however it is fairly not so common when someone says, the traffic on roads in India has a charm of its own. An innate thing which is rarely seen in any part of the world, at least not while driving on roads. Imagine this picture

You are on your bike; there is an auto rickshaw (a three wheeled car with a canopy on the top, which can go anywhereJ. This is how one of my acquaintances in the UK had described an auto after his visit to India) in front of you. You are approximately 200 feet away from it and the rickshaw has reached the end of the road and he has to take a turn (either right or left). Something in you, will tell you the direction he would take. He wouldn’t have given you any indication what so ever, but you will still know the direction he would take. Some signals are being sent, may be your intuition or may be your imagination. I guess there is something more here. May be there is an underlying philosophy of psychology. Some vibes are being sent and these vibes are decoded and understood, if not there would be uncountable number of accidents on roads.

I have noticed this many times, another biker on the road, kind of turns his handle to the right or left, hinting he would make a turn now, the message is being recorded by you or any other biker behind the first one. You don’t yell at him for not showing any signal, you just carry on with your ride. I guess it defies the rules of the roads and assure that we Indians are not restless people on roads; we are a group of well understood people travelling at the same time, on the same road and still getting things done with some struggle and finally living in harmony.

A paradox!

Silence - Now and Then

It was silence between us even then, it is silence even now, but I like the silence now. It has something special in it, a warmth, a satisfaction, words, emotions and a lot more. I would want more of this silence, it speaks a lot. Nothing has changed between us except this silence and I love it.

Words of Wisdom

"One's not half two.It's two are halves of one"
- John Powell

Birlliant, it is........

League

How interesting will it be to be an ordinary man in the league of extraordinary men?

On Road

Strange is the word which I have to use today. A bike ride of some 20 kilometeres with not a lot of pre occupied mind, can make one feel realize the petite pleasures.

A small family on a motor bike and their little daughter in the front was enjoying the dusty ride and was not happy when her father stopped at traffic lights. The father started to say why he stopped at red lights. The child was happy to learn a new thing and was quiet for a few seconds and then she smiled at her father. I guess she must be imagining what would have happened if her father would have jumped the signal.

An elderly couple on the TVS 50, the once life line of commute among the urban middle class Bangaloreans, was so happy. I cant think of a reason for them be to be sad. There was something strikingly different in them. They were so full of life and smile and were genuinely happy.

A baby, toothless, was all smiling at all the people in the traffic lights. It caught the attention of four more bike riders other than me around the baby and that smile was transferred to all. All of us exchanged the smiles. All random strangers on road.

Strange I feel! I wonder, if most of us (includes me) have lost the art of finding pleasures in trivial things like these.

Hail!!!

Hail Kingfisher!

Hail Mallya!!

Hail Music!!!

Questions .............. answerless eh?

Why-should-I-listen-to-you attitude? Who should give up and why should one give up? Why should we always be good to others? Why cant I get what I want by the way I am? Why should not people listen to me? Who wins in a relationship? Why don’t I get to do what I really would love to do? What don’t I know what I really want to do? Why do people always advice and especially to me? Why don’t I like what most of the people speak? Why don’t people hesitate to open up to me? Why am I scared to tell what I want to tell? (Also a book by John Powell)

These are few of the questions which each of one will have in mind. A small collation of these by stories (another very interesting hobby to pursue) I have heard from people.

The law applies to human nature, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The more forceful you are, the more forceful the other ego retaliates. Most of us know the solutions, but why we don’t still don’t follow it? Is it the EGO? Yours or ego of other person?

What is EGO?

Q&A

Q---How can a humble, sweet, liked-by-all person turn out to be a rude, loud and villian to most of them?

A---Leave the person to manage a few people at work.

Nice...

It is a pleasant feeling, if what you think will happen, happens! Isn't it?

Strange Equation

30 seconds = 30 years

30 seconds can make a relationship for 30 years

and

30 seconds can break a relationship of 30 years

growing up

We grow up with issues at varied intensities and at varied intervals
Age 5 = issues with your mother/father/brother/teacher
Age 10= more issues with mother/father/brother/teacher
Age 15= issues with teacher/ more issues with friends
Age 20= more issues with friends/relationships/environment
Age 25= super issues with relationships/family/yourself
Age 30= issues with wife/boss
Age 35= more issues with wife/in-laws/parents/boss/children
Age 40=more issues with teenage children/boss/in-laws
Age 45=issues with wife/health/children
Age 50= issues with health/retirement plans/parents
Age 55= super issues with retirement/health/grandchildren
Age 60= issues of relying on children/friends

We all grow up with the issues, the more we tend to resolve it, the more, we get deeper into it, similarly, the more we tend to get away from it, we still get deeper into it. It is a maze, endless maze with no escape route.

Rewind forwarded

It is an hour past mid night and guess what am I doing? I am reading my own blog and reliving my past.

Try it!

Faces

My friend’s sister’s friend, a distant acquaintance of mine, short, sweet, beautiful and works in the same place as I do now. It’s strange; I have met up with her many times at workplace not as a part of my work, but in food courts. One of my first meetings was rather strange, because both of us remember each other by faces and not by names. We exchanged smiles and small talks in which she mentioned she has moved into management cadre of her organisation. All composed and professional, I appreciated the way she carried herself. We met a couple of times again, this time we knew each other’s names (obviously both of us had checked our names at our respective resources) Some time ago, I saw her yet again in the food court, with her team, trying to convince the way who serves the food to make a special dish for her team. She was all smiling, bubbly and energetic and was speaking in Hindi addressing he man as ‘Bhaiyya’. Another set of girls joined her and pressurised (rather buttered) the man up to which he finally agreed.

I was standing beside her and observing the way she was talking, expressing and convincing the man. She dint notice me. After a while, she looked at me and was surprised (can say, rather she was shocked) to see me there. I was smiling enough for her to understand that I have been there for a while. She asked “How long are you here for?” I said, “Right from the time you and your team started to butter this man up!” pointing at the man. She wasn’t really about it I guess. She said “You should have spoken to me earlier, I dint see you here. If I had, I guess I would have behaved well” .....Those last few words “I would have behaved well” is lingering in my mind since then. It is, yet again conformity to my belief that we all are two faced ‘private faced’ and ‘public faced’. I thought it is just me, this experience, kind of make me believe, it is just not me, I guess all of us. Why aren’t we just ‘WE’?..... Always.........?

Indigenousness

I think it has been at least 10 years or even more I guess, since I saw this man (well, a boy at that time) I don’t even remember his name. Well, I met up with this man, who was once my tuition mate and we had interacted quite a lot then. I was amazed that he recognized me because I could have not, I guess. I was eating pani poori at a gaadi near my work place as I had some time to start my work.

Um... he stopped seeing me, though he was on his motorbike. It was a nice meet, it was awkward because I could not remember his name, (in such situations like this is it pretty usual with me). I vaguely remembered his face, but yet again, I managed somehow.

Some time ago, I was talking to one of my friends while having coffee at Adiga’s, (a restaurant) one of my teachers who had taught me in high school was also there. I was glad that I knew (rather remember) him, but to my surprise, he too remembered me and called me out by name. We spoke for around five mins while my friend was busy having coffee and talking on his mobile. I waved bye to my teacher, and my friend asked me who he was. I told him that he was my high school teacher and he was pleasantly surprised that my teachers remembered me (and that too by name) I told him, it is because I have not changed a lot in the way I look, which is fairly true. I would rather like to say, I remain young in my looks, but unfortunately I can’t. Yet, the indigenousness of this place makes it mine, makes it special, and makes me feel where I belong to.

Smirk

Some strange things are always a part of our lives, things which you don’t want to encounter and yet you encounter or you would be forced to be encountered. I come from a true Jayanagar (Bangalore) based Brahmin family, and such families have their own set of clichés or say a standard decorum that a boy (especially a Brahmin boy) has to maintain. The more I tend to run from that frame worked lifestyle, the more I am getting trapped into it. It is not bad; it is just that I don’t want to be a part of it. Well, it goes something like this, English medium education for school, admissions into some reputed colleges in the same area, an engineering degree from one of the most reputed institutions in Jayanagar/Basavanagudi (old Bangalore) and a job in an MNC called Infosys. For parents of young boys, this is the dream path which their kids should follow and how much ever I wanted to deviate from this oath and carve my own way out, things seem to cross this ideal path. Crossing is okay, as it still doesn’t make u following that path, but the time or the period of the crossing is a bit awkward. As mentioned earlier, this is the path ‘Ideal’ according to many parents and my parents are not exception to it either. One such situation was encountered recently by me, my father was speaking to random man on the street where we live and he was asking about our family. My father was proudly telling that I am now working in Infosys and my entire story of where/when/how I got educated. The conversation was being continued and I interrupted to speak to my father and the strange man asked me the same things what my father had spoken with him a minute earlier, as a confirmation I guess. Then it struck to me, that I actually fit it really well into that cliché and all I did was SMIRKED!

Note: I work IN Infosys and not FOR Infosys.

Saturday

‘Saturday bandhu thumbha dina aiythu alva amma’ (It has been long time since it was Saturday) This is what my 5 year old nephew asked my sister and we all just laughed, but, if we think, do we all feel like that? I don’t at the moment.

$%^&*Confusion $%^&*

I cant just be I. Dont know why?

Ammamma

“Ammamma”, a name, a beauty, a lady and an epic. That is what we used to call our grandmother. We USED to, because she passed away a few months ago. She was a legend, someone who never considered herself less than any in anyway. She had an amazing charm in her, I am sure; she would be the ‘babe of the village’ in her teens. She was unusual in her family, because all her brothers were dark in colour where as my Ammamma was fair and beautiful. All of us, we cousins would always tease her the same and I am sure my grandfather was completely bolded over her beauty. It was not just that, she was a bit too much of everything. She never considered herself less to anyone in anyway. Though she was not from a wealthy family, she never let anyone knew about her family status.

She was an epic among all her family members. She was loud, demanding and very authoritative. She had five sons and one daughter, who was the apple of the pie of family. My grandmother had her seal everywhere with a lot of talcum powder on her face and a big round bindi (of vermilion) with a fake hair bun (usually shaped like a bread roll) and a lot of flowers on it. She was an example of exemplified Indian beauty. She was indeed beautiful to many of them, men loved her and women envied her beauty. She had too much of hospitability in her and especially to her grandchildren, she was someone to who we were waiting to meet. Functions, festivals and every other celebration at home; she was the main co-ordinator. Not to forget, she was the ideal mother-in-law to all her daughters-in-law with all the regular ‘clichéd’ things between them (both good and bad with more bad than good)

Her death marked the end of all the celebrations of my return to India. She died with disease that was strange to our family. She was in hospital for 20 days and she faced the life with courage. It’s unfortunate that the advanced medicine could not make her do what she wanted to, Live... live longer and enjoy life. It is then, that struck to me, how trivial the science is. It is like, that there is someone who is very thirsty with a pot of water in front of him and he can’t get there to drink it.

Many a times she has been an example to me, though she dint teach me literally. She couldn’t because she was uneducated. She could not write nor read, yet she lived a life the way she wanted to, keeping everything and everyone in control. Considering that, she was a genius in the art of life. I have learnt from her and always have appreciated her ways of doing things. She even taught me something or made me realize when she died; she enabled me to realize how feeble I was, both physically and emotionally. She was there lying on the hospital bed lifelessly in a small room and all the visitors were showing their condolences, some fake and some real. I was near her head which had the gauze tied around it and there were no visitors for around 10 mins. I was alone with her and I touched her forehead. It sent shocks to me; she was cold and not moving. It was for the first time, I realized what death is, I had not seen death so closely till now. I was infect scared for a fraction of second with so many what ifs in my head, What if she would move my hand away? What if she will start talking to me? What if she sits on the bed and pulls her gauze away? Nothing like that happened though.

Her death helped to understand myself better I guess (I am being selfish here) she made me realize that emotions run high, I wasn’t emotional to see her death, I was about to break down when I saw my sister’s hand shivering as she touched her and waived a final good bye and when my aunt wished her the final adieu. I don’t know why, there are a few people who I can’t see crying. I went upstairs to the kitchen and held my handkerchief hard against my eyes. I was actually crying, don’t know the reason, but I was. I learnt something more about myself. I guess that is life...self discovery.

Finally, hats off Ammamma....may your soul rest in peace.

Should I?

Sitting on a luxury couch, listening to some english song which I cant understand, my laptop on me, sipping hot cup of latte which would probably cost me just under hundred bucks. I am in one of the posh bakeries in Koramangala (Bengaluru, India) and watching the rain as I type this. Beautiful it is indeed, the rain, the dampness, the smell, the sound, everything, but this is marred by unnecessary honkers, speeding vehicles and the crap english song. I am enjoying it and am also thinking how different it would be, if it was something more of me in the environment. The same cozy sofa, the same laptop, the same rain, but different song, no noise of vehicles, no expensive coffee. I would have cherished it more with a hot samosa or a hot kachori with boling hot filter coffee or masala chai. Is this the enjoyment what I intend? Dont know. I guess everyone wishes for something more than what they have. I am normal and I am an ordinary human influenced by worldly activities. How do I do something different from the rest of the fellow humans? I think and think again, should I do something different? Should we all?

Randomly

Increasing waist line ............away from mysore.............. pain..........sympathy............suggestions...........time off........advices..............surgery.........extra care................knife....... children........home.........deliberations.........bandage............ movies.............. blood..............hospital.........reasons...........

2007

New year- new job- old company. Well, Dec 31st 2006, I started off again in my old company in the UK where I worked during my MSc, but this time in a manager’s role. Great start for the year, I thought, well, it was indeed. I was sure to go back home this year, so I was just a maternity cover for three quarters of the year. It is here, where I learnt, how tough it is to manage people. My people management skills were tried and tested, but I guess I won in the end. Not everyone was happy all the time, but, if we consider the percentage, the happy people were more than the not so happy ones. I cherished those times and I made some good friends. I impressed many people I worked with and they stumped me as well. I was looking not at their looks, but the inner person. We all are same, irrespective of gender, colour and race. I tuned my people skills, my language, and my accent I guess. It was time for me to leave. Left my job and soon left the country to return to India. Returned to India, bit fairer, but father and bit confused about my future, but, I was glad that I did. I could see a change in my immediate family. Witnessed the unexpected, strange, yet true. Then a new lease of life started, unfortunately had to start from scratch.
I think the distance builds/breaks relationships. I enjoyed one such relationship which had a technology as a base; internet/telephone formed the soul and veins of it. Last few months of my stay in the UK, I had grown extremely close to a girl who I met over the internet. We spoke for hours, from work, on the way, from my house, hours together and I had grown an inclination to meet up with her immediately after I returned to India. Things were fine and one fine day after I returned, don’t know what happened, we stopped speaking for no apparent reason. It made me really think, that distance really can make or break a relationship. I guess I won’t see that girl again. Reason nothing in particular. The father I was, the better it was I guess. My return marked a number of celebrations at home in form of many family gatherings and others. Just after that, a sad fold, my Nan fell ill and died couple of months after my return. Bad, very sad......:(
I started off my new job, completely different from my previous job, a bit more to do with people. I do a more respectable job now, I facilitate people to learn about themselves and develop various skills. I still am an amateur, but the start seems to be great and I hope for the best in the future. Good bye 2007. Welcome 2008!!

The discontentment

I have been pondering over this for some time now. I don’t know why I am like this, still can’t figure out any reason for this behaviour of mine. I am not greedy neither I expect things that are unusual. There is always some discontent in me. I have done many exciting things, seen many beautiful places, have had many thrilling experiences, yet, there is something missing in all of my experiences. Especially, last few years, with a lot of new experiences, this unhappiness has grown, irrespective of what I do. My friends were ecstatic when they saw the Swiss Alps. I saw it as well, but it dint make me euphoric rather it was like any other thing for me. I think I get more pleasure in tidying my room and keep it all organised than watching a blockbuster movie or having the most delicious food. Honestly, I don’t know what makes me happy, I have observed my behaviour, where my happy scale would be showing new highs when I speak and spend some quality time with my school friends and a few more people. I can’t even express this discontentment; I probably would be happy if I do something drastically different than the rest or do something to my standards of perfection.

Final Adieu- Good bye old England

It was 60th year of Indian independence celebrations last week. I was not in India at that time; I was away in the UK, a last few days of my stay. It wasn’t the same kind of feeling that anyone would be feeling a week before they go to their home country, to their families (well, to most Indians at least).

I have been thinking about it for weeks, this year’s Independence Day would be a bit different for me as a person, because, staying away from home country for around three years makes you feel overly patriotic. I have seen the country developing, staying away. The amount of happiness you get when you hear the sensex go up, new things are shown about India in any TV channel and all such trivial things is incomparable. Email inboxes will usually have a few forwards about India and a few web links will be off liners. I never missed anything like that and in fact I have forwarded it to many others including a few British. We have travelled miles to be a part of Indian-ness in the west. All this does not seem strange, because everything suddenly becomes “matter-of-fact” overnight and everyone practical in their thoughts and actions. I have been a part of this vogue for last three years now. I was away and staying away has changed me as a person, for the better I believe and what I believe is true.

My experience here in the UK has been immersed with different experiences, well; I would say learning/observations. Almost three years, life was completely different for the life that spent three years ago and now after three years I am returning to the life that I spent three years ago. I am sure things would have changed a lot there. I can guess that it would be no different to the place where I live now. I am happy in a way that I am following my words. I always used to say “Life in the UK is just an experience and not life!” I would say, that the life in the UK has taught me so many things that I would have probably taken a decade to learn if I were to be in India itself. It has accelerated many things in life, from being independent to appreciating and valuing people of different origins. It is amazing how we all are different, yet we all are same.
As I type this, I have a weird feeling; I am growing increasingly cynical about my return home. How I wished that I would go back when I am here, but now when the time has come, I am sceptical about my life back home. It is not that I am here all my life and am going to a completely different country for the first time, but it is still the feeling of going away from something that you unknowingly adapted and started not to dislike (for e.g. when you start craving for burgers and fries of Burger King)

Finally, a grand SALUTE and BOW to Imperial England!! GOOD BYE OLD ENGLAND! I am sure I will miss you.

PS: This again was written a couple of months back, but posting only now. Better late than never! :)

Life eh?

She was there, standing, was waiting I guess. I came rushing towards her, seeing my watch. Thought I would miss, in fact I was more than brisk walking, I was running. I was all smiling. I was early, rather it was late. I had to wait, so was she. She was restless, lifting her legs backwards at random times. She was smiling though. I was waiting, so was she. I was seated in the waiting area. She was standing though there was some seating. In front of me were the youth of Britain. 4 blond girls in skimpy clothing flashing their latest mobiles were opposite to me shouting and screaming (literally). She was still restless, I could not stand her restlessness any more. I walked to her and offered her my seat. She said, with lovely smile. I should say, she was very attractive. She came to me after that and we started speaking. She said “ I have pain in my legs and they are swollen(she showed me her feet). I cant sit because my back pains as well. I am OK this way sweetheart” I could not say anything, because she could not sit nor stand. I felt pretty bad for her state and asked her why cant she go by a cab and even offered her to call the cab for her. She smiled and her teeth less jaw was visible and she said “I cant afford it love”. I have to stay mum. She continued “ I am 82 love and have 5 children; unfortunately no one is around and I live in an old age home”. She continued her story while the bus turned up and we all got back in the queue. I carefully avoided the seat next to her as I really could not hear her story anymore, but was definitely thinking about her and how her family would be. This is life everywhere, irrespective of east or west.

PS: I had written this blog ages back, but it is up only now because of lack of time/interest.

Reflection!! in just 55 words

She was there; she saw herself in the mirror and touched her image to see if she feels any different in herself. She was experiencing the miracle in her life. She looked different than how she looked a few months back. She saw wool on the ground and the two needles. She smiled with happiness!

Tera, Mera and Uska

Scene 1: Mera: Tera, I am fed of hearing about you, please stop talking about yourself. I have never heard anything more than the ‘I’ word from you. Why do you always talk about yourself? Do you think that people would like it always? Why don’t you analyse the situation and speak, what everybody would like to hear instead of some random things about yourself?...........****Sighs!!!***

Scene 2: (Mera is reading the webpage of Uska, a common friend of Tera and Mera and praising his new article. Tera trying to read what Mera was reading) Tera: Mera, you were accusing me speaking about myself all the time, but now you are appreciating Uska’s article titled ‘Me’. I am sure you can understand that it is all about him and his nature and lifestyle. It is just him talking as a third person, but the crux is still the same, as you say, the ‘I’ word. ……………..*****desperation*****

Scene 3 Mera in his bedroom, on his own, contemplating on the events and the words used in the row, was amazed by the use of words. He thought ‘words are so powerful and the same words mean different when told in different ways. What do you call that, an oxymoron? No…I guess no term for such a thing, but it very frustrating and has put me in awkward situation now, what do I do’ Has Mera committed any mistake? Is it his fault if the words are used in different ways? Is it tough to overcome confusion by explanation, because both of them use the same words or is Mera thinking a bit too much?

Development/Confidence or a bit of boast?

It was sometime in early October 2004, during the first few classes of my MSc in University of Surrey,UK, I was very apprehensive and cynical to open my mouth, thinking that people in my class who were all from various parts of the world (I should say, I was the only Indian) would laugh at my accent and my English. I was very nervous and framed my sentence many many times, over and over again before they could hear anything from me. There was a discussion about argument, how to argue and what points should be covered in an argument and how professional an argument can be at workplace. I have read, believed and it has always worked for me that the best way to win an argument is to be quiet. I had put forward my argument (so to say) to the entire class and to the old aged professor! After much of deliberation I did say what I wanted to and the entire class did go quiet to hear the unknown voice which was too much different from the familiar voices of the Caucasian race. It was an achievement for me!! And from then on there was no debate or argument without me being involved in it in the class.


Three years on, I can see how much I have changed and how I am now, at work, generally and how different I think. I have developed the flair to identify the trueness of a person, irrespective from where he/she comes from and keeping away all the stereotypes that rules most of our decisions. One incident at work last week made me feel really proud of myself. James and Peter (names changed) also work with me and James is the supervisor of Peter (both British). I know both James and Peter pretty well. During my break, Peter comes to me and goes on about how much he dislikes working with James and how unhappy he is in his team. “Guru, there are a few people here in this place I guess who are really worth their jobs and you are one of those mate. Honestly, I have more respect to you that towards James, he is an a***h**e”. ‘James, don’t loose your heart, it is not him as a person, it is the system mate, I am sure you can understand and probably you would have done the same if you were to be in his position’, I said. ‘Go get some food’ I added. The conversation went on to several things and we were about to finish our breaks. Peter, opening the door (British diplomacy) turns back to me and says ‘Can I work for you, Guru?’ I smiled at him and said, ‘I will see what I can do for you’


It is not the fact that I can get him a job in my team, it is the experience/ conversation that makes me feel proud….. A self pat………can I say ‘Well done! Guru’

My walking experiences

Walking has been a vital part of my life, not because it is healthy n stuff, it is because I have a bit too many memories associated with that. I have always walked ever since my school days, long walks with no destination, super long walks with a friend, late night walks just to have a cup of coffee from a street vendor in Gandhi Bazaar (Bangalore, India).

My usual walk will be, well, used to be mostly alone, not on a common route but in a familiar area. Thoughts just flow in my mind as I walk, analysing myself, my day and people, people I meet, my family and the circumstances I am in and the people are in. It has always been something that I would love to do. A good company, a long walk talking to myself as I see and watch things around is like a bliss.

I have been on frequent walks when I was in India, well at least once a week and here in the UK I used to never go for long walks here. I feel it a bit intimidating and like someone is always watching you. I have never felt comfortable to go on walks here because an asian guy walking alone late in the night is an easy target and with all the drunkards around, walk would not be appealing. Lately I had been on a walk, not late night, sometime just after the evening when the temperature was just right for a walk. I was remembering all those beautiful walks in India as I walk and was talking to myself (yes, I always do) and a Brit walked beside me smiling. I smiled back and asked, “Why are you smiling? Did u hear me speaking?” There was a reply that shocked me, guess what?...... He said “I thought you heard me speaking” I was with a blank expression and he walked off. I was smiling after that and was happy to learn that I am not the only one in the world who speaks to himself, there are a few more and I had just met one. Isn’t it cool?