When I was four months, twenty eight days and a few hours old, I had a particular expression on my face which could probably make a few hearts skip a beat today and maybe break a few. As I glided to age five years, three weeks and six hours old, I was busy imitating what I saw on television instead of bothering about that expression or trying to use it. In grade three, in a school at 78, Syed Amir Ali Avenue I was asked to sit in a separate row, as I had been talking non-stop to the girl sitting next to me, who happened to be my cousin. During the initial years of telecom revolution in India, when Dhirubhai Uncle (May he Rest in Peace), oops Mukesh Uncle launched the Dhirubhai offer, trying to fulfill his papa’s dreams, I was giving my dreams a hike and discussing everything from Accounts problems, to the Indian cricket team, to other people’s first boyfriends (obviously not bothering about having one for myself) on the worst but most cost effective mobile handset in the history of mankind. As I moved to college, talking led to typing and here I am, three or four years into this frustrated little faithful blog of mine, better than both the dogs I tell ya (dogs and men).. still talking. A lot of things that I was good at, are lost..or ignored for the pursual something completely unrelated. In regret or not? I’m still talking to myself about that. Ofcourse it wouldn’t hurt to have the killer pout from four months, twenty eight days and a few hours of age, but what’s gone is gone. The tongue and fingers are still intact and as long as they’re here..I shall rant.