where unpleasant words go when they die

The mayans were wrong.

Am I who I thought I'd be??Am I one to decide??
I look upon myself, and I don't know what to feel.
Should I be happy at what I've accomplished, or sad for all I haven't??
Or should I simply accept it, no matter what it reads??
There's simply no way to sum it all up.
But yes, I do sometimes fear I may become someone I'd hate. Someone I'd abhor. Someone I put up with, only because it's me.

Enough introspection for now. 

Life goes on.

Finally finished a book I first picked up almost 2 years ago from my grandpa's library.
I enjoyed every one of my incomplete reads of the book, probably due to the fact that its a calendar of sorts, depicting a tiny, tiny piece of the world through the seasons, echoing Kalidasa's Ritusamhara(garland of seasons).
In any case, a very different, but good read.

 (The Everest Hotel: A Calendar - I. Allan Sealy)

Holidays went well.
Bangalore and its people have been good to me.
Played a lot of badminton, ate a lot more.
I think I've come back to Delhi weighing more than when I left.
Came back, back to the same room, the same routine, that same maze.

Met my old grand-uncle and aunt, who shared with me their weariness.
Weariness from continually losing their peers and loved ones.
Weariness from being distanced from their young.
But most of all,from fearing their own impending fates. 

Simple sermons served by seventy-something soothsayers.


I've been tempted to write several times, in this period between this and my previous post(a long fucking time).
Rarely has it led to written results, it mostly just passes after a while, or is lost in the chaos of fleeting worries and other detritus.


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