Introductions please

The thing about blogging is that I never know how personal or impersonal it’s going to get. I mean I start out alright with general observations on life etc and some brief and mostly random revelations about myself and my life. But then slowly, once blogging becomes a habit, like some sort of therapeutic distraction, I find myself becoming increasingly personal and… revealing.

And it works out really well you know… you can rave and rant and write pretty much whatever you need to get out of your system. The beautiful part is that unlike a diary or a word document on your laptop, your blog actually gives you a sense of an audience. I mean it’s out there on the World Wide Web, open to anybody who chances to stumble upon it. So, what you have at your disposal is essentially a listener who won’t interrupt you, or tell you you’re biased or try to reason with you. But just hear you out. Awesomeness? I think so.

So now that we’ve established that raving and ranting are two things we’ll most definitely have on this blog, let’s get on with it shall we?

First things first. The man. Hereafter I will refer to him as Krum.

If you believe in karma and reincarnation and the theory that we all owe something to one another in every lifetime, then you’ll understand about Krum and me. I am convinced that in one of our lifetimes I killed him and in another he did something pretty darn bad to me and so now we’re both stuck in the same rut, paying off our karmas to each other. The problem is we both fucked up. And whoever decides about the whole karma thing is mindfucked trying to figure out who gets the shaft this lifetime. You dig so far?

It’s like one mind got split into two and now the two halves are duelling against each other. There is a weird misplaced sense of honour though. And pride in each other. The pride however stems from sheer arrogance.

But enough on that for now.

In this blog, I will try to control the self indulgence and keep a watch on the sordid NGDs (nitty gritty details) of my life that interest no one but me. But, but…this is my blog and cyber therapy will be resorted to in times of distress. Just wanted to get the disclaimers out of the way.

It is my father’s birthday today. I woke up at 6am this morning (because of three large and extremely delish mojitos the night before) to the sound of shuffling feet and the radio. I went to the dining room to see my dad walking around in his socks, a pack of lopchu tea in hand and the kettle on the boil. High levels of cuteness. So I wished the man a happy 65^th as he told me to come home early for his party, with all the enthusiasm of a 6-year old. He kills me. He really does kill me.

It rained. Last evening and again early this morning. I detest rains in general. But there’s something exquisitely romantic about rain in winter. The chilly fogginess somehow doesn’t bring on the same gloom of monsoon. It just sort of hangs over the city like a benevolent spirit infusing the people, trees, birds and street dogs with a sense of wistful languor. For me winter rains have an inherent association with old English novels: the haunting melancholy of Wuthering Heights, the merciless immobility of Egdon Heath, the riveting intrigue of Manderley- I envision each of these settings in the wet, wintry weather of Kolkata. Also, thinking about Heathcliff is that much more delicious in this weather. But that’s another matter and likely, another post.