It seems eons have past since I had first conceived the thought of starting my own blog. It’s hardly been a year that I had finally zeroed in on the name: A Potpourri of Vestiges (Here, I won’t reveal the reason for choosing such a peculiar name and will save it for sometime later). But, since then I have become a hapless victim of incertitude: every time I try to muster some courage, my inhibitions get the better of me. Something that can’t be cured must be endured! But, I have finally decided to break the shackles, for the torment of vacillation has become unbearable.
At this stage, I am not aiming for success, nor can I guarantee it, for we mustn’t worry about things that aren’t ours to decide. Sounds cliched, doesn’t it? Well, I don’t expect my readers to give up on me so soon. You must not forget that my hands are still shaking and my heart is ticking faster than a clockwork. I have always been slower than the ruck: perhaps in thinking, probably in planning, and definitely in execution. I can go on giving excuses for my failures, but since I do not want to annoy my soon to become ardent followers, I ought to be a bit more cautious of my blabbering. While I cannot afford to be caught off-guard, I must not let my ambition get the better of me, for discretion is the better part of valor. I must calm my nerves down and must not succumb to the odds. Before I start digressing further, I must gather back my senses and come straight to the point. My life has been the quintessence of a paradox: the harder I tried the greater I fell, and with each fall the morale sunk and desperation augmented.
I started out as an outright winner with a cut-throat attitude. I remember being called: “The Boy with a Midas touch.” I never used to give an inch to my peers and used to ruthlessly cut my rivals short, faster than the flick of a wrist. Alas, every good thing has to end: whether a reign of terror or a spree of frenzied luck. I became a mere shadow of what I used to be in the good old days. I could no longer effect results, and success became so far-fetched that it often seemed like a chimera. As I started to feel like a mere mortal, I inexplicably developed an uncanny liking for feeble traits like clemency, compassion, gratitude, compunction, sycophancy and acquiescence; I started to condone the things that I once used to staunchly condemn. I became my own antithesis owing to the malevolent villainy of time and fate. As I bore the brunt of my haplessness, I failed to fathom its end. Perhaps, I needed sometime to rethink, reanalyze my situation but time was a luxury which I could no longer afford. Hence, until the day of reckoning when I would finally succumb, I decided to keep the ball rolling.
While I was getting accustomed to my mediocre existence, I got bamboozled by a volley of questions; answers to most of those questions seemed far beyond the scope of my dilapidated cognition. My dear readers, I must confess that no punishment can be more severe than being made to live in mediocrity. As far as the questions themselves were concerned, I kept them for some opportune moment, probably when I would be in a better position to tackle them. In the interim, I decided to work assiduously in order to devise a means to detach myself from reality, probably by learning to live vicariously. As a last resort to placate my behemoth ego and pacify my lacerated heart, I decided to indulge myself into the bling-bling of cinema.