|This photo defines my four months in Guwahati.|
The long vacation, which gets longer every time I book my return ticket, seems to be coming to an end. I feel like in some indie home-coming flick; nothing actually has happened, and that's where all the joys and sorrows seem to be.
December saw me trying to push a cause and 'make things happen' to something that could very well do without such external forces. The lesson that came out of it - when someone needs space, the dimensions of said space are such that it is 5'7" tall and weighs roughly 70 kilos. A lesson learnt well. But fate has always been a two-faced bitch. Now I had space too - to think, to plan. We sylhetis plan a lot. A plan which was based on a time-line that ends on 11.11.11. So, I told myself, I'd work my bum off and finally say goodbye to this cruel world on the set date. Hell Yeah!
January made me realize what a stupid plan* that was. Much more important things were happening and I learnt that I could sleep better, if only I'd resign to the truth that I'm NOT the hero of this story. 'Sleeping better' should always be the ultimate goal. This indie-flick side character, you could say, grew up a little with such little bits of wisdom. The space needed some respect and could not be ignored. The need for such a thing could not be the giant invisible elephant in the room anymore. Move on. End of Chapter One.
|This Dude sleeps really well, I think.|
February, as it fades into March. New Plan. Yes, roll your eyes bitches! I have to write a lot. Need to finish the script, the book of short stories that will never get published, while leading a dual life as a content (read far-from-content) writer who has to write about everything from hedge funds to men's thongs. The money has to come. One of the goals for which I need the money is to fund the upbringing of my own Pig in Pami's farm. (That's one of HER plans). Maybe one day, it'll go to college. Like any bad indie film where random things happen to people who have nothing to do with the continuation of the plot, I was witness to a bomb blast when my friends were having a nice meal in another zip code. Sadly, the blast wasn't big enough for me to realize how short and precious life is. (This is precisely why I need to grow up and learn how NOT to relate every random event to MY existence.). TIA - This Is Assam; bleh, whatevs I say.
Theme song for this post - We rule the school by Belle and Sebastian.
*the stupid plan still lives. It will happen. The dream lives. So does the longing to fill some spaces.
I call shotgun(dibs?) on you know what.
it just occurred that plans and eggs have a lot in common
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