Notes

Our world is changing at an unimaginable pace. 
Ten years back i had imagined none of these, that there would be a man who would write two line stories with pictures of strangers and the world would want to listen to him.
That a series of ten questions will tell me which place of the world i should belong, what my career should be, what the color of my shit should be and when I am likely to die. 
That Amu would spend hours together summing up the state of her life to shout out to the world. 
That Nikki would wonder where reality is, whether in the letter her grand father had written begging for ten rupees for his medicines or in the one where an entire army of people is telling her stories of following their hearts desire.
It was just yesterday when someone she knew died for the lack of means to travel a thousand kilometers and now she knows people who are counting the countries they have visited.
That Asif would proudly say that he has no human friend in the city he lives because he doesnt need one.He needn't ask address of the bank from his neighbor anymore or ask his doctor for information on medicines, or ask his uncle to put him in touch with his friend's son to contact his professor, google does it all for him.
That Anai would wake up from a nightmare and first check his email. 
That Sophie would type out her thoughts on her mobile instead of looking for a pen and paper at midnight, when inspiration strikes her. 
That if Bill Waterson had been born today he would have a cartoon blog and probably would stop blogging after a while out of boredom and Calvin will never see the light of the day. 
That after several decades after modern times where Chaplin was tormented by the machine there would be a story where a man falls in love with the machine. 
When calling oneself a writer, artist, photographer, musician is ever so easy. 
When the story is no more, a life full of work, rejection and discovery of the genius after death.
When philosophers scientists writers are quoted left right and center. 
While physical wars happen on the ground and ideological wars happen much far away in chat rooms. They have divorced each other long back.
I'm not complaining, nor indulging in nostalgia. Just taking stock of what was and what is. Just writing in one of those fancy colorful notes which can be stuck to the wall.