Skip to main content

When my blog proved useful

I needed to collate all my LIC premium receipts today. I dug into my mail account and gathered as many as I could, although some seemed to be missing. Fear not, I thought – all the receipts could be downloaded from the LICIndia website.

I was wrong. To my horror, I discovered that the site purges receipts more than 2 years old. These guys can’t even spare enough space to archive tiny PDFs! I remembered that not all premiums were paid online, some were paid the conventional ‘over-the-counter’ way (which wouldn’t have corresponding online receipts)…but I just couldn’t recall which ones.

Then came the brainwave – consult my good-for-nothing blog. I did, and all the missing receipts were accounted for. My first online premium happened only in April-2006 while the disabling of my net banking account compelled me to go offline for the Oct-2006 and Jan-2007 premiums.

I never thought my blog would serve a pragmatic purpose so soon.


Popular posts from this blog

This is what Bertrand Russell said about religion...

Religion is based, I think, primarily and mainly upon fear. It is partly the terror of the unknown and partly, as I have said, the wish to feel that you have a kind of elder brother who will stand by you in all your troubles and disputes. ... A good world needs knowledge, kindliness, and courage; it does not need a regretful hankering after the past or a fettering of the free intelligence by the words uttered long ago by ignorant men.

The year that was

I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still