Centurion

Runs are hard to come by, with the ball not really coming onto the bat. With boundaries not possible in this format of the game, batsmen are made to toil for each and every single they take; an insurmountable task if dashing between the wickets didn't seem so much fun! But there's a flip-side too - all this sprinting saps you of juice and Fatigue, the slayer of giants, pays you a visit. And then, the cramps - the scavenger which feeds on the dying. The moment your guard is lowered, you die.

So it is indeed a monumental moment when a batsman reaches his century - as it is a victory of human-will, nothing less. And as I'm doing precisely that today, I raise my bat. It has been a very satisfying knock.

I can hardly believe that I have lasted four years in this world where more blogs are indiscriminately discarded than created. Only a blogger, and an avid one at that, would probably understand how much this little space on the web means - something as special than a friend you share most things with, a brother who understands you completely, standing by you through good times and hell.

Since the probability of you being here for the first time is rather low, I suppose you've already witnessed my meaningless rants, random philosophy and sullen melancholy. Usually, this blog has just been a voice of dissatisfaction trying to break the run-of-the-mill days and chase one foolish dream after another. There have been moments of bliss, but as all moments of bliss should be, they have been ephemeral.

And since Life is all about running after a mirage, there will surely be more stories to tell. There will be victories and there will be losses, but they'll all be experiences. And hence the scoreboard will keep ticking.

Thank you, dear reader, for keeping me going all these years; without you, this space would be nothing more than a personal diary... and where's the fun in that? Anyway, here's hoping for a hundred more! My fingers are crossed.