Sunday, December 5, 2010

The Microfinance Muddle

The saying goes ‘the whole is more than sum of parts’ and when it is applied to the Microfinance institutions, it couldn’t be more appropriate. After all, it is the small foundation of microloans upon which their empires of millions are being built.

It is not the criticism of the business; in a capitalistic economy everyone has the right to do ethical business within the framework of law. Such endeavor is entitled for its benefits, that is, profits. However, a business whose foundation is usually based upon service of the downtrodden without any expectation of profits and this very fundamental character of being not-for-profit gets altered with growth of business surely raises eyebrows. It is the business of Microfinance, where such thing has happened and is happening. It not evil though, provision of credit to the poor, banking to the unbanked. But it is the way and manner of conducting of business which puts this sector into spotlight.

The model of microfinance is not unique to India; it first gained prominence when it was introduced in Bangladesh by Nobel Laureate Prof. Muhammad Yunus. As success has got many relatives, from there it spread across the world from Mumbai to Mexico City touching as many rural and urban poor who are in need of credit.

Microfinance can be defined as provision of broad range of financial services like loans, deposits, payment services, money transfer, insurance products etc to the poor or low income households, for their microenterprises and small businesses, to enable them to raise their income levels and improve their living standards. But what differentiates it from normal banking is its willingness to provide credit without any collateral and for taking such risks it charges rate of interests, which are normally twice or thrice the bank rate. The Microfinance Institutions or MFIs usually bets on the reputation of its customers, because irrespective of any hardship the poor will payback. It is a business of informality, personal touch, relations and contacts, therefore not surprisingly given the scale; millionaires can be made out this very basis of small loans.

In an editorial in The Economic Times, Delhi Edition, Mr. Arvind Panagariya, Professor at Columbia University and Non-Resident Senior Fellow at the Brookings Institute, expounded that there are three players in the microcredit market; the Self Help Groups or SHGs which are principally promoted by the government, the Microfinance Institutions of MFIs which are either NBFCs or Body Corporate or NGO or a not-for-profit enterprise and the local money lender. These three constitute the entire spectrum of microcredit to the needing masses.

SHGs works on the principle of applying collective wisdom of the group and peer pressure by which it tries that credit is productively used and loan is repaid. MFIs can be in form of NGO, not-for-profit enterprise or an NBFC, it accepts almost no collateral and since it seldom gets any help from the government it charges interests which can be twice or thrice of bank rate. Local money lender can be any person who may not be registered with any authority and provides credit at a high rate of interest with or without collateral.

From an analysis of the characters of these players it can be deduced, as Dr. Y.V. Reddy former Governor of Reserve Bank of India puts, that MFI is essentially a leveraged money lender, whereas the local money lender normally lends out of his own funds, MFIs are actually borrowing monies from depositors, bankers or from shareholders, private equity funds etc and lending the same. SHGs on the other hand depend primarily on government, and given the political compulsions that ruins a democracy, the government usually shows an eagerness to waive loans. This very tendency creates a moral hazard which leads to non-payment and when a financially strapped member of SHG approaches another SHG for loan it makes the entire structure of SHGs weaker and steroidal. This in turn also gives an impression that for profit MFIs are sound, hiding their weaknesses and coercive practices.

Having come this far, it would be prudent to focus on the type of customers on which MFIs usually cater. Usually at the fringes of the society, they are primarily unbanked and do not have any recourse to credit. Even if they have any, it is usually the money lender who can charge high interest and is coercive in recovery of his loans. These people rank really low on creditworthiness and solvency. On these people MFIs with their borrowed money bank upon.

I am not suggesting that poor do not have any right to grow or they do not have any right to do business, but easy credit is a tempting hazard and that is why more and more people are finding themselves drowned in perpetual debt trap. There can be two reason for this, firstly there is a stiffer competition amongst various MFIs to gain new members, irrespective of their solvency or credit history, and secondly the sources of funds of these MFIs. Since sources of funds of MFIs are banks who lend at commercial or market rate and investors who ask for good return, MFIs have to charge an interest rate which is usually charged on credit cards. Further, there are many MFIs in the market with similar sources of funds all wishing for good return on investment. These very pressures usually lead to cost control amongst the MFIs which can only be done through outsourcing and coercive collection practices.

MFIs cater a market which banks do not touch, that is, people with low solvency. Ultimately, as Mr. Reddy points out, it is some sort of sub-prime lending. This is type of lending where the credit is forwarded to person who have low ability or have no ability to pay back. As a MFI grows in size and institutionalizes, it’s very basis of informality and intimacy between the borrowers and lender ceases. In addition, when a MFI hits the stock market, it is then entrusted with newer responsibilities to governance, return, compliance and performance.

This very sector of microcredit is unregulated, that is, there are no standards of maximum interest to be charged or to whom loan is to be provided. Often it has been found that people, who have obtained loan from one MFI, take loan from another MFI for repaying their first loan and fall in debt trap. This practice plagues the MFIs with the same disease with plagues the SHGs. This story is same across the world wherever MFIs operate and have resulted in converting a boon into bane.

An effective regulation of the sector, in letter as well as in spirit, is the necessity of the moment. Already it is been speculated that many MFIs would shut shop as their sources of finance, that is the bank loans, have dried up and government diktat of controlling the interest rates would lead to loss. It is imperative that the sector is needed to be regulated but such regulation should be only from one authority, which will give some predictability and clarity to this sector. Multiple regulators can only act as nails to the coffins of this ‘sunrise’ sector.

It is a season of scams and scandals, and in this we are lost in the maze of Niira Radia, 2G and CWG. Why not? Once exposed they give us a good punching bag to trade punches without being hit back, and if there is any sense of ‘justice’ left we might even get a scapegoat. But just take out few minutes of time to think about this, whatever may call it, I’d prefer to say muddle, which directly affects our banks, economy and the very person who brings our milk, washes our dishes or even produces our food. This muddle affects them directly, and if you don’t think about it now, few months we might again be arguing. What is government is doing about poverty?

© Tarun Mitra








Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Reach up and touch the sky

I am not writing regularly these days, not even in my diary. So here goes an old poem not shared earlier. Hopefully by next month I will be able to write some article or short stories.But for now I am sharing a poetry written on 2006, 5th March to be precise. Hope that you will like this.

Reach up and touch the sky

They’ll try to pull you down,

They’ll try to push you in,

Regardless of challenges you face,

Reach up and touch the sky.

They’ll say there’s no ground beneath your feet,

They’ll say you’re flying too high,

Regardless of what they say,

Reach up and touch the sky.

They’ll say a lot of things,

Which may impinge your thought process,

Regardless of this insinuation,

You should always move in your way.

They’ll try to cow you down,

In every, nook and corners of life,

Better be ready to face the challenge,

And lead your way upright.

In the end of the life, you’ll find,

If you’ve followed your path,

If you’ve faced your challenges,

If you’re unbowed,

You’ve surely, reached up and touched the sky.

© Tarun Mitra

March 5. 2006

Wednesday, October 27, 2010


A little girl asked

“Auntie, how do we make a home?”

Auntie answered

“Using clay, bricks and stone”

And she went to her chores

But I wondered.

Is it the clay, brick or stone

Which makes a home?

Or something more than stones

A man,

A woman,

Some children,

And some family,

Bound together

in the bonding of love.

It may not be of clay.

Leave alone gold and stray.

Leave away the iron mikes.

But must compose of love,

For love, which bonds together.

For love, powerful than iron mikes.

For love, which makes a straw,

worthier than glittering gold.

Makes a home sweet home.

© Tarun Mitra

January 31, 2006

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Back Again

Writing after really long time, it has being more than two months. But why it is still hard for me to write. Why there is no inspiration in spite of full of seasons. I don’t know but in this one I will share few things that have held me for last few days.

It has been really long, for the first time since I have started regular blogging that a month has gone without a post. The story is same for my both blogs. So what is it that held me, lethargy, laziness, work or anxiety, or probably mixture of all?

Before I began, I give my sincerest apologies to those fellow bloggers whom I have not read during this period. I am sorry, but I cannot help and those I have read, thank you for reminding me that I have to post.

What is blogging? Well, when this concept was invented this was supposed to be some sort of online diary, before it evolved into some powerful medium. Blog was primarily meant to be a diary, so it first comes to diary.

Diary keeping, a habit to keep records of daily happenings of our lives, so that one day we could read them and try to evaluate and relive those days. I started maintaining diary possibly after my 12th, though not regular, but still they are able to provide me the insights of my mind during that period. Many of my poems that you have read here were the pieces from those papers. But I must again admit that I was never regular.

I have started blogging out of curiosity of sharing. I was exposed to this tool from the newspapers and faint articles of the revolutions that it was brining. It was supposedly a cyclone at Orissa which bought this technology to my consciousness. It was an enduring picture of a person with Ham radio and another person with laptop trying to trace relatives of the victims that has being etched in my mind. If this tool was such powerful, then what good that it can do to me? I thought and started my first blog.

My first blog was a disaster, it never got any reader. The reason may be because I never knew the tricks of getting readers or increasing hits. I kept posting, without even having a reader for it. Eventually, my old e-mail account to which the blog was linked got hacked in July 2008 thus ending my first tete-a-tete with blogging. Although, I made myself available a new e-mail account within few days, but it wasn’t till 2nd October 2008 that I started this blog and rest is history.

But today, as I write down this, after more than two months, it’s not the history that has prompted me, but the retrospective vision of my past in concurrence with my present. Life, it is said that evolves continuously and during one such transition I caught myself during last few days making me difficult for me to pen down something, and there were other reasons directly connected to my situation present.

Today, as I post this draft, am a qualified Company Secretary, and it has being a journey of almost seven years and innumerable examinations, long hours of arduous study and patience. It’s been almost a month since my results were declared but alas as I said, my present also has a dubious role to play for not updating you on this.

Now, it would not be coincidence that I started keeping diary when I passed out my higher secondary examination, a same period when I joined this course. Going through the course of my life, I have found numerous instances where I have been alone, dejected, lonely and defeated but I survived. There has being instances where I have seen (and still seeing) my peers leaving me behind and I trudging along on the same broken path, but I have survived. I have seen time when everyone I knew was having a cool time, partying and I was peering over books. I have seen times when people who studied with me in the same course passed out and qualified, and I failed to make a mark. Gosh! I have seen a lot, and still I survived and today when I have passed I can at least safely say I have failed, but I was never a failure.

Now, please don’t ask about what Company Secretaryship is all about, kindly google it. It is professional degree at par with Chartered Accountancy and Cost Accountancy and is managed by an Act of Parliament. It is the actual Corporate Governance course available. However, very few people may know that. But for me it has been a journey of sorts with more than its fair shares of ups and downs. And on retrospective I might say c’est vie.

After reading these lines, you all might be angry, and may ask “Why the hell now, after a month?” For this I would simply say, and as I have said, my present. Its push, pulls and pressures has its own role to play for stopping me from not writing. But now as I have written, I will try to be more regular.

After my result last month (it was 25th Day of August) I wanted to write a post, about my journey till now. But not anymore, goal should always be at front of you and not backwards.

Now before I conclude this long write-up, which started from my brief history of diary keeping and blogging and to my present qualification. I must say, they both were intertwined. They both started at a period when I was at the edge, they both helped when I was falling down from the edge. They both challenged me and kept me going. It has being a long journey, I retrospectively sometimes I feel I should have finished it long ago, but alas! Now as I have, I am going for another one. Goal should always in front.

© Tarun Mitra

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Death in Installments

This one has its inspiration from a news item I was forced to watch on India TV. Hopefully I have done justice to the emotions

Death in Installments

A boy jumps into a river

“Wait for the moment” the presenter says

The river was raging

10 seconds – will he live

15 seconds – will her survive

20 seconds – will he die

25 seconds – looks at his friends

They’re petrified

30 seconds – he is struggling

Or is he tired?

Or the river got better of him?

32 seconds – he disappeared

35 seconds – he reappears

Is this a miracle?

40 seconds – no one in sight

1 minute – whether he is dead or alive?

Where the current have taken him?

What can we do anyway?

It was death

Presented to you

In installments

© Tarun Mitra

Written on June 28th, 2010

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Beast of Burden

Beast of Burden

I carry

On my desiccated back

The loads

Of people-over the mountains

Over the hills

Through the valleys

For a living

I am not tired

I am not retired

I am not old

Age cannot bar me

How can it?

If load ensures

My kin’s daily meal

How can it?

If load ensures

My mere survival

How can it?

If load became

An inseparable part of my life

Remove it

And my breaths collapse

Remove it

And my bones crack

Remove it

And my blood drain

I am a Beast of Burden

For ages I am there

For ages I will be

I am a beast, not a human

I am not a beggar

I’ll never be.

© Tarun Mitra

This is my first posting for the month of June 2010 and one after a long long time. Indeed there was some slackness on my part but also it would be pertinent to mention that I was busy with my life. I was following only few blogs (apologies to others), but Delhi heat and power situation can be unforgiving.

The picture was taken by me on my trip to Mussoorie. It was taken on 11th June, 2010 and now it seems a long time ago.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Award for me

Well I must confess it is my third/ fourth award. But honestly I don't remember when I was awarded the earlier one. Secondly I was blissfully unaware of rules therefore I just said thanks to the person who awarded me. My awards were given by Megha and Nalini, both wonderful bloggers.

My this award is given by Karan, who happened to drop in my lonely blog and regularly shared his view. Thanks a lot buddy.

Now as rule of accepting the award I must forward it to my other fellow bloggers, I would like to give this "Cool Award" to

Megha for great stories and great photos

Nalini for great poetry and great photos

Tavish great blog mate and too regular

Gyanban needs no introduction

Anulal for heart rendering poetry

Mridula for encouraging me into blogging

Thanks again Karan, because it is for you now that I am posted again.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Death of Emotion

For the last few days its being easier for me to write poetry (though sporadically) than articles. Lets see whats next in store.

Death of Emotion

His heart clenched

When he saw her on board

A wishful prayer

Of God bought forth

She walked inside

Took a seat facing his back

He kept turning

To figure her outta pack

It’s being few months since

He’d last had a glimpse

The place was same

But the time different

But this time

T’was a long haul

He kept turning

As history strolled

They’d talked once

He’d always remember

Days of adolescence

Were full of adventure

They’d walked together

Talking ‘bout world

As one’s fancies flew

One’s was unruffled

He confided his love

As his nature was so

He paid a price

She forget him soon

They met twice again

But she didn’t ‘cognize

As his heart clenched

Her beat fine

Today when she board

His emotions soared

And gave a shriek

Of an animal getting caught

It’s being long time

He consoled himself

The death of emotion

is consolation.

© Tarun Mitra

April 16th, 2010

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Web of Life

Web of Life

Those who spin the web of life

May have never thought about strife

That exists between man and man

When every man gives the best he can

Little knots of this web

Loosened by the lessee itself

Who has never pondered himself

The shelter service the web provides

And yet he is hell bent

On destroying the creation

Of owner of heaven

Those who spin the web of life

© Tarun Mitra

May 6, 2005

Thursday, April 22, 2010

For the one last time

It have being callous not to write about it. But what to write about, Dantewada represented all what is wrong with India's security apparatus. The 'MASSACRE' of 76 Jawans is the grim reminder of fact that the nation is still not united and there is still a fire in the belly. But I am more or less appalled with the general reaction of blogging community, who failed to mention it. When bomb exploded at the Bangalore stadium, we sprang into action writing pieces, when Pune happened we where shattered, but why on earth our reaction is so different when it comes to massacre in Dantewada, Silda or Orissa. Why are we such callous about maoist violence. Just because it doesn't affects us directly or it is just not glamorous. In this incident of Dantewada I have seen many news pieces but not a good reaction of city slickers. We are too busy with IPL tamasha.

Now, after this short but true lecture, I present the poem I wrote about the slain Jawans, not the only ones who died at Dantewada, but the one at Silda, Orissa, J&K and any other part of the country fighting the insurgents. It is the least I can do.

For the one last time

For the one last time

Her cell-phone rang

“Take care of kids” he said

And the line went dead.

For the one last time

He unlocked his gun

Aiming for the target

Bullets have him overrun

For the one last time

He prayed to god

He thought of his loved one’s

Till a bullet stuck his jaw

For the one last time

He took a deep breath

Taking cover under a tree

Landmine tore his leg

For the one last time

He took an aim

Killing a few

Then he was slain

For the one last time

He hurled the grenade

The usual thud

Then he found six coming

For the one last time

He took her picture out

Holding it to his heart

Falling! His hand held it tight

For the one last time

He feared for his life

Firing at all direction

One got is balls out

For the one last time

His life went through his eyes

Childhood, youth, manhood

Laid there, in blood

For the one last time

He wished to live

Amongst the dead

He gathered his ‘tines

For the one last time

He gathered his dreams

He wanted to be an artist

Battlefield became his sheet

For the one last time

He wept to live

The battlefield’s sympathy

Bullet through his brain

For the one last time

He waited for death

Miles away from home

His brothers made him bled

For the one last time

He saw his blood

Nothing was different

Between their flag and his blood

For the one last time

He blew the whistle

The final attack

Bayonets on barrel

For the one last time

They called for help

And nobody came

Laying their bodies to rest

For the one last time

The class war claim

The lives of poor

Whom the class represents

For the one last time

They came back home

Draped in flag, packed in coffin

The dead were somber

For the one last time

Their widows cried

The future was bleak

The promises hollow

For the one last time

They were criticized

For their tactics and strategy

Their sacrifice unnoticed

For the one last time

The Nation outrage

The dust settled

On wilderness came IPL

For the one last time

They turned in grave

Asking for the vengeance

Crying on decadence.

© Tarun Mitra

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Legal Tangle

While waiting at a government office for getting the work done I wrote these few lines just for passing my time. The work was not done and the lines are before you.

Legal Tangle

It is something called legal tangle

Size more confusing than woman’s bangle

If the problem is countered at wrong angle

It becomes difficult to untangle the tangle

It’s much easier to break the bangle

© Tarun Mitra

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Inner Strength

Another old one from me, can't help. Sunday is the only holiday. This one was written way back in 2007. Hopefully by next week will be able to add something new.

Inner Strength

My eyes look tired

My face look wrinkled

It gives an older than age looks

However my determination is not broken

Nor did my inner strength

© Tarun Mitra

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Yet another week..

It is Thursday night 2330hrs, tomorrow is few minutes away, and I sit here, with drowsy eyes and drained out mind trying to write something, or least of it meaningful, to keep my this blog atleast alive. Indeed it is difficult.

Is it poverty of thoughts? Or drought of ideas? Or, is it just another plain laziness which had plagued me earlier? No, neither of them, I am just tired. After spending close to 10 hours at the office and 3 hours in commuting and that to by using public transport (even it is Delhi Metro) what is left of a poor soul of 24 year old. And to add a cherry to this cake I don't have Saturday off, with Sunday comes and goes life seems to be struck a High Tension wire.

Enough of whining, I chose it, or it was a hobsons choice. Whatever it was, decision is entirely mine. Anyhow coming to penning my thoughts, I think I have already explained why the idea don't get converted, not an excuse, but try walking in my shoes.

Be careful what you wish for, because some where in past I might have prayed for this and the Higher Power seems to be using LIFO in granting wishes. Anyhow, coming to the point.

But what point, this point has no point at all, just varied coordinates which I joining with my eyes closed. So excuse me if you had gone through this torture, Good bye for now, and hopefully we will see you on Sunday

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Divided they Stand

Life is like million loose blocks

Divided they stand, united they fall

So don’t make your life with loose blocks

Cement it with good cement stock

© Tarun Mitra

This piece was originally written on November 9th, 2004. Do share your views. The picture you see was Clicked by me January 5th, 2010.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest: Book Review

On the very onset I must admit I am not a great reviewer of books, or any other thing for that matter. As I do believe since no five fingers are same, things are different from other. However, I also believe that nothing is always or never, hence this article.

I should say I have being forced to write this article by two compulsions, first is the compulsion of writing and of not posting for a considerable part of time and second one is the compulsion book itself. Many of you might be aware about the movie with the same name “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” starring Jack Nicholson, which won him his first Oscar. The movie was based upon this book by the same name written by Ken Kesey.

A little googling and you will easily find the story and other detailed research about this book and the movie also. But as I said, I am not a reviewer, I can only try to make you see but made me pick up this book and ultimately read it.

Picking up this book was not easy, with few bucks to spare, I was thinking about the return which I should expect. It was book fair, and as I had already explained in previous article I was not in a great mood to roam around. I decided to stick it out within few stalls, and for this one it was Penguin. This book, along with few others was under an offer, and as far as I can remember it was under Rs.200, a tempting offer for something which is marked £9.65. And secondly, the words “anti-establishment” commented in the back of the book. I gave it a second minute thought and decided to go ahead and make the last purchase for the day.

Something which attracted me towards this book was not the cover but the halo surrounding the story which was actually established by the movie itself. Though I haven’t seen the movie, but the reviews I read, and the other such supporting proofs made my mind tick that there must be something about it. And when I saw the book and corroborated the facts I knew, it seemed to be prudent enough to give it a try.

Who is insane? Who is mad? Who decides the conduct in the society and conduct of the society? Is it you, me or the society? What type of conduct is actually thought to be desirable in fitting into the society? There are no straightforward answers to these questions. This book does not provide those answers; this book only reinforces those questions. It puts those questions in a manner that either you will put the book down in disgust or you will be compelled to ask your own conscience these questions. And the answers are not easy.

This book in a manner ask those questions, not through the tongues of the persons whom we called ‘sane’ or ‘good’ but through the mouths of ‘insane’ and ‘criminal’. It asks question about the value of laughter in the gloomiest of the situation. It asks question of being free from any type of bondage. It asks question about being different. It asks question of being free and being non-submissive. It asks question of masquerading autocracy in the veil of participation. And finally it asks the question of the price one has to pay for being different.

This book is narrated by a person who has being displaced by the state, from his traditional and ancestral living, for some hydroelectric project, this person has gone through the trauma of seeing his tribe and family disintegrating and the tragedies of second world war as a conscript in Europe, and finally ending up in asylum. The repeated use of shock treatment and other such method makes his speech and views confined to him.

But this book is not about the narrator. It is about a criminal, who wishes to seek change for others. Because what he sees and feels is wrong. This book is about a nurse, which rules her ward with a toffee enameled iron-fist. It is about humiliation in public which she dishes out by just mere use of words in order to correct the patients. It is about her who feels an asylum is institution for insane.

Finally, this book is not about the asylum itself. Only through the context of place, it raises questions about what I called is ‘hound mentality’

I am a no great reviewer. But I must recommend giving this book atleast one shot. This book is written by Ken Kesey.

© Tarun Mitra

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

100th Post

So therefore at last.

Shrugging of my laziness

Resting my logic

Breaking my promise not to babble online

Ultimately I am writing my 100th post under a spell of painful swollen left leg which I have endowed for 3 days now and finally have decided to get to doctor morrow.

I thought a hell lotta things to write in this one, Rave, Rants, poems, views, diatribe but lastly settling for nothing..

Don't ask me how it happen (my leg if you care) coz I just don't know, one evening while getting printouts I began to hurt and on reaching home it was swollen and painful. And today I limped my way back home and morrow I have to limped my way to office. Anyhow.

So what have changed in its world. Nothing really! People are still fool, government is still screwing people, IPL tamasha have two more actors (i support Delhi though), world is going x yz, Google showed middle finger to the middle kingdom, and March is terribly hotter in Delhi than ever, and my indiranking plummeted to 69 on account of non posting. much and relax..U are still living

It has being a great journey till now. For all of those you out there who actually read before comment, thank made me write better..and those who think I write shit, well my friend sometime mirror shows our own image and we fail to recognize it (no offence though).

This is my 100th Post see some different in 101

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Why should I write?

I don't clearly remember why'd I began writing. Probably to diffuse tension which kept brewing in my brain, and by writing I mean writing not only blogging. I am quite unaware when this habit caught me and challenged me to give my best. But as time passed, and life grew, today I am compelled to ask myself "Why should I write at all?"

It is not that I accidentally stumbled upon writing. I used to write some parody, some speeches in my school days but they were few and far between. I graduated to diary writing during my first and second year. But discontinued regular writing soon, though I still keep a folder and use to pen my thoughts there often, but that too have reduced a lot after I started blogging.

Now coming to blogging, I must say I'd some good and some bad experiences. There were few good experience like some of my mediocre stuff got more attention and some bad experience like some of my better researched stuff suffered badly. Part of life I can say to myself. But...

Why should I write? it is the question I am asking myself, It is not about the readers only. But can it bring about any change. Will it affect the world even by an iota. Will it effect anyone's thinking by a tiniest bit. Will anyone disagree and lead to an healthy argument to keep me engage. Or will anyone even care.

It is my 99th post, and I don't know what I will post for my 100th.