Technically, we are still there. So hold on, but then, for how long?
Its been a while since we keep talking about what went wrong, what didn’t go well, how people deceived you, how nature’s wrath upon you was so unwarranted, why your employer doesn’t pay you well, why the world has turned so cruel.. the bandwagon is long and lengthy, painful to patronise
But then, I have a question – doesn’t life always cease to dwell upon our inefficiencies and gets the best out of the inner ego of ours that so unwillingly is sandwiched between our sub conscious state of insatiable back packs and that part of our testimonials that is so desperate to succeed in a life where society is beset with maverick congenialities?
Ah, the answer isn’t that simple, hence take your time.
So, this time, my flashbacks would be more of a dismantled poetry that we usually don’t want to venture through our naked eyes. Calligraphic bludgeons of a gorgeous bystander, a naive observation of an amateur, the inspiring words of a CEO on the growing potential of technology and its takers – depends on what appeals to you the most but one decimal of it is attributed to your affinity towards the jingles of the sound that each of them produce to change your lives. Could be a proportionate one or a mere acquaintance of rich standards. Both ways, we stand vindicated.
The days gone by are sometimes difficult to recollect for couple of reasons – too good to talk about or the opposite. Yes, you can argue that good times are always nice to talk about. True, but sometimes its good to leave the good ones behind and look forward to the greater delights of the world cuisine. After all, basking in glory is seldom an attribute of a champion goose (you can treat that as an adventive of my muse), quite so.
Coming to my usual human endeavours that occupies me during most of the year, 2015 was damn good one, at least, to begin with. I wasn’t in the country for most of the ethereal days in the Indian shores, and English waters treated me well with the sarcasm of a Brit and the flamboyance of a spirited youngster. Work kept me busy but then, I had my own moments that helped to gain the rightful brownie points one usually thrives for memorable indulgence. Exploring the north western corners of England was a breathtaking memoir and the highlands of Scotland left me famished. Well, I will go on and on till you ask me to put my foot down. Yes, am almost there to hang up.
Later this year, families, people, queer acquaintances, lots of travel, perceived jolts, the ‘coming-back’ syndrome and ceiling high aspirations leaves me with just one thing – am asking for more.
Am beginning to feel selfish, so lets move away from the indomitable me and talk about how the world changed while I was working around towards renaissance – ah well, a lot of stuff that I wouldn’t like to. Honestly, hate to open the pandoras box in front of this incubating, arousing set of people.
Sporting events are always a highlight of a year thats demanding a couture from its juggling legacy – the Cricket WC (though not the best in recent memory) unfolded with a one sided flak. ISL took centre stage, especially for the sub continent when its best advertisement doesn’t come football. Wimbledon saw some staggering Indian menace and was a candy to our dry eyes. The victory for Indian women in Kabaddi WC was flourishing news but not widely celebrated in the plated circles (not surprising though).
Amidst such fine climate, disturbances did spoil the world affairs. Paris attacks were black days for the history makers and no one feels the anguish more than India, pity we burnt our fingers on numerous occasions despite the UN intervention and extending the precarious principle of solidarity. Thats probably termed as ‘suicidal dilemma’, for us. For rest, its global disaster that we have so easily got used to.
We rounded off with the ‘Baap’ of all time rain-hit calamities, and Chennai city came to a screeching halt. Took weeks to stand on its feet, and recuperating to retain normalcy. (Also read – )
I hate to but will stop, else I get this furious feeling that the year might not end on the pretext of my vivacious account of its famous and infamous exploits. Sighs!
2015, please go. I will not miss you but will occasionally flash through to beat the best of it.