Tada!

Fuelled by a host of new experiences and observations , I have taken on this project to write a new anoynmous blog. Those who know me will certainly be able to see through the thin fog of anonymity. For those who don't know me, I have a duty-de-honesty to explain the inarguably pretentious title of this blog.

I used to pronounce building as byoolding as was taught in my primary school so I am not really an expert on phonetics. But as far as my pseudo confidence tells me 'Psi Baba' is phonetically same as Sai Baba who thankfully died recently after coaxing the gullible Indians for a majority of his lifetime. Psi, on the other hand is a greek letter commonly used in quantum mechanics. Yes, you guessed it right. That's the branch of Physics which leaves out a room for all sorts of weird interpretations that people like Rhonda Byrne exploit to earn their daily bread by selling hopes and dreams to people who don't have balls to dream for themselves. Well, I certainly empathize with such folks because life can kick you in the nards pretty hard sometimes. And when you have stars and birds circling your head you might want to give a few of your precious coins to buy some dreams. All this beating about the bush might be used to corner me into accepting that I wasn't this wise when I fell prey to people selling Rhonda Byrne to me. If I may, I will like to earn some of my credibility back by saying that 'the secret' got brutally murdered inside my, then adolescent, brain in just a matter of few weeks.

"Now why am I reading this blab fest?", you may ask to yourself. I will say I am not sure why am I writing it in the first place. So that brings us both on the same page and it's a reason enough for both of us to go on to the next idea encapsulated by my blog's title.

Amrika is the Indian folksy way to refer to The United States of America. Now every time I expand on the abbreviation of USA I can't help but laugh a little inside my head because it used to be the giggle inducing Under Skirt Area for us boys sitting on the third row in a class of fifty during my school days which I remember fondly after having tactfully eliminated most of the memories.

I am flying back to the dreadful rut that I call  being a graduate student after a vacation - a large part of which I spent studying in a new town when I could be discovering the place on foot or on bicycle. The nice afro-american lady in the seat beside me just told me smilingly, 'you are a blogger!'. And called me a literary person. What could be a nicer way to end this entry. Now, you may neigh a sigh of relief. So will I... sigh...