writing was always fun

i always wrote...enjoyed it. the problem was no one understood me :D
yeah i think very few people could ever make sense out of my writing ...

it began with Asimov's inspiration...
when i was small, i read this little story 'A House that Died' adapted from one of asimov's work. it was wonderful. it narrated the story of a post nuclear war survival of a house. just a house. none of the human population was alive. the house in 2020 something is programmed for daily activities like preparing breakfast, cleaning up, serving lunch, even reading stories to the kids at night! there is no one to eat the food it serves today. no one to respond to its calls...but the noise of its movement spreads far and wide into the desert outside. you see the house diligently following its routines and u learn about the life of its occupants . you learn of the dead family. you learn what stories the kids heard at night. what likes the wife had in television. what food they liked to have. u know a lot as the speaker cries out for instructions to be fed in or to be followed. there is a strange feeling of depression which slowly occupies your head as you reach the end. wonderful piece of science fiction!

i tried imitating his style in early years, but failed. the story never got out from my diary...unless my sister would have read it ;) she knew. only her. at that time. i was too embarrassed to publish it anywhere :)

this makes me immortal...

world here i come...
i own a blog :)
tho i m tooo late :(