I'll turn 25 tomorrow. Its not a happy time at all. Nothing seems right. The winter's approaching faster than I was prepared for. Not that I sleep on the roads but its always brings with itself late mornings, musty woolens, an eerie indoor silence (what with no fans, no ac and little traffic noise) and joyless baths.
This year I wont even get any presents. Only, pointless and impersonal birthday wishes prompted by facebook's free reminder service.
Gah! I'm totally struck by the birthday blues!
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Delhi Belly is right.
Yes, I am from a small town. And yes, I hate Delhi. Of, course it would be easier to give an account of all the things I DO like about Delhi as against those that I don't, but then there aren't any to speak of at all.
I am usually a big fan of making lists. My first one was a list of all the people, fictional or not, I'd want to invite to my birthday party (other than those who had nothing better to do than to actually attend). It was a 20 odder that had everyone from Gandhi and Godse to Caulfield, Kunta Kinte and Dumbledore. Then there was the 'I hate..' list which was a detailed insight into my cynicism. It was lovely, really. Finishing the I-hate list was like wiping your wet hands on your pants. Utterly satisfying. I gave it to T the very next day of course. She had a box for all my letters, gifts and other quirks. I doubt she still has it, though. She's not a very sentimental person obviously. It just took me too long to figure it out. The day I discovered my box of her letters and stuff destroyed to shreds by termite, I cried. That day I felt like I'd lost her all over again.
I am usually a big fan of making lists. My first one was a list of all the people, fictional or not, I'd want to invite to my birthday party (other than those who had nothing better to do than to actually attend). It was a 20 odder that had everyone from Gandhi and Godse to Caulfield, Kunta Kinte and Dumbledore. Then there was the 'I hate..' list which was a detailed insight into my cynicism. It was lovely, really. Finishing the I-hate list was like wiping your wet hands on your pants. Utterly satisfying. I gave it to T the very next day of course. She had a box for all my letters, gifts and other quirks. I doubt she still has it, though. She's not a very sentimental person obviously. It just took me too long to figure it out. The day I discovered my box of her letters and stuff destroyed to shreds by termite, I cried. That day I felt like I'd lost her all over again.
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