In the good old days when public speaking was an art, many enrolled in classes to learn how to have confidence in themselves, how to convince people and thereby control a situation, which were known as the three Cs of public speaking.

Cicero, in his Roman toga, used deft hand movements to emphasis a point, which if done today would look ludicrous. Schools, later decided to freeze the hand by telling students to place them behind, so all concentration by the audience would be on the little speaker, on his or her speech and not to be distracted by a wild arm flying and flaying around.

If there was some mechanism that could amplify all cell phone conversations taking place at once, the sound produced would be louder than an earthquake or bomb blast, a rumble worse than a giant drill tearing into a concrete road! Once upon a time we saw people walking around in silence, stopping to wish or converse only when they met someone, but now, chatting doesn't cease.

 “It’s raining in January!” said my treadmill with a black disgruntled look.

 “So?”

 “Why did you go for a walk in the rains, you could have used me instead!”

She opened the bathroom door. He lay dead inside. She called me, her voice hysterical. They had, had a drink the night before, and another and another and another, and he already with liver ailment had staggered to the bathroom and she to bed.

We walked towards the mountain, my friend and I. We knew we had to cross to the other side. We had heard, the valleys across were full of milk and honey, that jobs were aplenty, people sweet and friendly and opportunities enough to achieve our dreams.

But we also knew we had to cross the mountain to reach that promised land.

We came across two paths my friend and I that led to the mountain: One broad and easy, the other narrow, treacherous and difficult. “Let’s take the easy path!” smiled my friend to me, so when we reach the mountain, we will have strength and energy to climb!”