The magic of 'THANK YOU'.

 Thank you, yes, you.
One of the most significant yet ruthlessly taken for granted word is, 'Thank you'. I was one among those who just shooted out a Thank you most often when something was done for me, without a little bit of oblivion to what power the magical word had.

Somebody opens a door for you, out shoots the Thank you in such a tone that resembles the jet speed adver­tise­ments of mutual funds dis­claims – “MutualFundsaresub­jecttomar­ketrisk.Pleasereadtheofferdoc­u­mentcare­fullybeforeinvest­ing”.

Doesn't help much, does it? In fact, it took a while for me to figure out what the person actually said.
A Thank you shouldn't be that way. A Thank you is a sign of gratitude. People have given their precious time for you. A thank you is all it takes to bring a smile on their face.
A Thank you from the bottom of the septal wall of your heart. Spare me, this is what happens when a student of Medicine runs out of strong emphasizing words. So yes, the septal wall is the core of your heart, what I mean to say is that,  a THANK YOU from your heart. In a way that really persuades people that you are indeed thankful for their service no matter how small or big it seems to be.

But I tell you where it has come to be. I send out long text mesages, thanking the significant people in my life for all that they've done and Dad being one of them.This is what it was - Thank you for being a friend, adviser and a great dad in everything I ever chose to do. And a lot of other thankful stuff. To which I get a reply, ' Welcome. But by any chance, are you going to kill yourself?' Incredibly funny it seemed at the moment. A thank you makes people wonder what we're upto. Because, we never do it often. We never thank anybody for all the little beautiful things and what should have been considered something normal ( My sending out a long thank you message) turns out to be abnormal and fishy. And the reason? We're busy throwing the word on everybody without a small speck of gratitude. That is why. Sad, but true.

A thank you to the salesman at your department store or to the person at the billing counter or to the public transport driver or to mom for making your favorite dinner or for the sweepers who clean your roads day in and day out would mean so much to those persons. It would make their day, bring a smile on their numb, mind toiled faces. A THANK YOU for being alive. Some may say, why say a Thank you? We pay for what we buy and the employers get their salary for doing their job, why a thank you? Okay, what if they decide to stop their service? What if you had to do everything all by yourself?
A thank you doesn't hurt anyone. It is a harmless, lovely and magical word when said with the right amount of gratitude beautifies everything around.

Just go out there and thank every little thing. And yes, not the "MutualFundsaresub­jecttomar­ketrisk.Pleasereadtheofferdoc­u­mentcare­fullybeforeinvest­ing" tone 'Thank you' but a heartfelt, gratitude filled 'THANK YOU'.

THANK YOU. 

Of lost candid memory and found profile picture.

So, this is another post in which I'm going to brag about what I grew up watching and how things have changed thereafter. No, I'm not that old to speak about the Mughal Empire or how early industrialization affected the growth of lichen and apparently the survival of moths or anything that is driving you crazy. But about something that made me smile.
Remember the good old cameras? The kind of ones through which you click a photograph and get to see it only after getting it printed? When there were no DELETE, EDIT, VIEW AGAIN options? And yet, the photographs would turn out to be just fine. A point of time when photographs were captured for a precious memory or occasion and immediately followed by getting an album neatly done versus the new age digi cams where right after a photograph is clicked, gets uploaded, edited, photoshopped to an unbearable level and posted on random networking sites for the pleasure of strangers( Time for self defense- Peace out, I do upload photos on the web but make sure they are sensible & among the people I know.)

And then starts a whole new era. An era which cultivated and harvested populations of passion for photography. Owning a DSLR implied interest in photography and that meant capturing every possible matter that lies in the visible wavelength of light. Yes, the 'matter' which has mass and occupies space.
In my opinion, passion is often mistook for fancy. People alleged to be in love with photography are more often than not capturing the dress, decorations and materialistic objects than the core motive of capturing the soul, the meaning behind it and all that truly should be captured.

Then after a few days of meandering with the DSLR, enlightenment strikes the minds of the supposedly-in love with-photography-photographers.
Viola! - Log in and create a page.
          -Give it  a name, 'Something something photography'.
          -Message all your contacts, 'Please like my page'.
          -Followed by 50 likes anniversary, 100 likes, 500 likes, so on and so forth.

Enough of it right? Let's get to the good part.
One fine day, far from the madding crowd, you have a huge family get together. There the treasure comes out. The photo albums. All the head banging childishness is crystal clear in front of you. That gives rise to all the memories afresh in the minds of your family members. Embarrassment, happiness and a dash of overwhelming smile that never ceases to stop. Beautiful. Any given day, my vote goes to the photo albums than to the Timeline posts, photos, tags. It's just that the former is real and satisfactory. And the latter always remains a virtual illusion that is always at a risk of a system crash/breakdown.
I have a suggestion. The next time you decide to travel, drop your cameras back home and just go for it. For a memory just between you and the journey and not between you and the web. Try it. It is magical and fulfilling. For once, replace the artificially portrayed 'Say cheese' with a heartwarming smile. LIVE the moments than killing them for a photograph.