Risk

It's about not looking back twice.

Bringing the best of options to your head won't make any difference because every time you think it out, there will always be a different way out, a safer way out.

But that's not how things are meant to be.
A time comes in one's life (don't say it doesn't for you, because then you're just a wuss) when a choice has to be made:
1. Get busy living and then get busy dying.
2. Stop worrying about living and dying.
3. Live today, when dying comes, we will think about it.

Option 1
It's the fear of winding up on the streets, living in old beaten up houses and driving a two wheeler to office is the fear that envelopes us in this invisible straight-jacket of security and peace that denies us the possibility of exploring. Well, yes your wife and children will be able to buy their favorite clothes during the holiday season and you will retire as a grandfather with 2 properties to your name and be able to watch the latest soap operas on your new 42 inch television.

Option 2
You see, this whole business of life and death is bullshit, its all about karma and how your actions make up for your consequences. You sit in rooms smelling of smoke and mould and worry about the corruption of man and how he has created an infinite black hole of evil deeds from which there is no escaping. People worry about God instead and where he keeps his sack of gold to shower on his subjects. Money is no object, we are free souls brought to this Earth for one sole purpose, to spread love and happiness. We are living in a mechanical society where we are controlled by individuals and it is our job to break free from these shackles. One would love to live this theory, just because its well, simple.

Option 3
Risk. Its all about taking that leap of faith between your reality and your conviction. Not all who take the leap make it, you may lose your job, you may end up being divorced, fat, living off your parents, writing stories that no one wants to listen. But you may not. Its as simple as asking out a girl. You know you want her, you don't know what she wants but you will never know till you ask her. You may do your stupid little research and survey about what others think about the proposition, you may even give her hints and what not but until and unless you make that move, you will never ever know. And before you know it, she's gone. And then you have a drunken tale to tell about 'The one that got away'. Grow up. Take that chance and you just might have the best story to tell in your life (I'd suggest not to go for long distance).
Just ask yourself : "Whats the worst that could happen ?"

So at the end of the day, the only piece of advice is - GO FOR A RUN

Run today while you have the legs because tomorrow, you will run out of them.

A Stroll

One needs to take an exodus from the four walls of livelihood and head out towards the far reaches of the earth. Discover what fruits she has to offer, the souls one might not have touched, the sights one is left to see so that one day, on your deathbed, you don't have to lie without a story to tell your kith and kin about how you have lived life to the fullest and need to move on.

And so I head out into the vast outside with puffed up lungs and a stride in my step.
For a noble cause I head into the unknown, for a mission I take this path alone.

Six eggs and a loaf of bread and not to forget a half a dozen bananas from the local market.

The evening has set and the games at twilight have begun, the stars have taken the stances and are taking a power nap before their shining begins for the long and tedious night. The moons seems to be hidden today, probably touching up its face.

I may not have walked more than a yard when under my feet comes the rubble on the road, there's rubble everywhere. I stare up at the towering houses and wonder why man always looks to rise up high but forgets the land from where he comes. I shake my sandals to get rid off the dirt invading my space with a word or two under my breath. Staring into these houses I look at the cheap halogen lamps giving off their dull glare outside. No matter how grand their houses may be from the outside, inside they will always live as beggars, ensuring that their electricity bills never go beyond the danger mark.

Hunger taps me on the shoulder as the prospect of food from the market that may satisfy my pangs for delicacies from the netherworld. However, owing to the elastic waistline of my pyjamas, I choose to not let it defeat me and take a vow to have nothing doing with the processed food industry. I have dreamt of days when I will be able to tell tales of how I defeated the sin of guilty pleasure and maybe then I shall quote this moment of my triumph. When I went to the market to buy eggs and bread (not to forget the bananas) and said NO to the prospects of a chips packet or a chicken patty or one of those round crunchy twirls that... mmmmm.

A growl interrupted my train of thought and for a moment I thought a stray dog was after my crotch again. To my relief it was only my stomach that growled in disappointment of being faced with such abuse. On reaching the market I decided to reward myself with a chewing gum (sugar free) just so that my teeth get something to chew on. You never know, chewing just might help me with my jaw line and make it dashing enough for the ladies.

As I asked the shopkeeper to hand me the eggs, bread and bananas, the whiff of the guava reached my nose and I stared at the stack that stood before me, seated like pompous Romans, full of pride and peacock meat,like an audience waiting for the Tiger to be released at the colosseum. The shopkeeper caught me staring and with the proposition of making an extra buck, told me there was no spare cash and asked if there was anything else I wanted. The Romans looked at me for approval but I held out my thumb to give the final verdict, ye or nay. And much to the horror of the Romans (and the bewilderment of the lady buying her coconuts for her deceased rich husband's exit), I plunged my thumb downwards and said "nay".

On leaving the market, I chewed the gum with a much harder intent to make sure I didn't change my mind.
Nearing the house which looked the same as I had left it, I was approached by a dog.

I covered myself with the eggs (nothing harder than 6 eggs to save you from the worst of attacks) but the poor mutt was only hungry. Its wagging tail soon descended into an immobile vine as it understood the possibilities of its evening supper.
And back I was home again with yet another adventure under my non-existent belt.

Till the winds call me again
Or we run out of any grain
I will rest beside the fireplace
Or the gas stove near my face
But when adventure calls hark
I will venture in the dark
For a skirmish with a beast
Or to buy some white meat
But I will return to tell the tale
Of how much I saved, in the sale.