christmas blues

tere bin sanu soniya koi haur naiyyo lagda

kate naahi raat piya tore kaaran kaaran

baanwra mann dekhne laga ek sapna

jaan jaati hai jab uthke jaate ho tum

unrequited passion sucks, especially when the object is a quasi-fictional character, who disappears from the daily circuit in the christmas holidays. i am surviving on regular chocolate intake. have also landed a demanding job, on top of all the essays and reading i was going to do. i also have an unexpected but welcome house guest.

sadly all of the above, individually and in tandem, are failing to save me from myself.

chill, there is a lot more to my life than maudlin-ness, though you wouldn't know it, looking at me now. i am reading about the stories of bangladeshi immigrants in london, for one thing. very insightful look at how the way people tell stories about their lives and times adds a whole new layer to the narrative itself. the book also talks about how narratives are never told (and therefore lives are never led) in a political vaccuum. the idea jumps on to my recent train of thought about everyone being a political being; what's left to us is the extent to which we shun our civic duties, such as the duty of expressing oneself in public, the duty of living by our beliefs and the duty of caring about what happens to our common shared world.