This time I've really done it, haven't I? *deep sigh*
One month. One whole month without a single syllable, or an unbroken word, or any whisper of a post. The misery of the situation is that, after my last silence, I worked on four posts. All of which are in varying degrees of completion and every one something I feel strongly about. And yet, there they remain. Unfinished. *deeper sigh*
The past month's been wretched. In 30 working days, I've claimed "late-sitting" commuting expenses for 20 of them. For the ten days I managed to get away early (read 20:00), I've either had a visiting friend to entertain, important visits to make, or other work to catch up with.
Not a hope of weekends either. If prolonged sleep deprivation happens, I turn into an ill-tempered, snarling banshee. Or alternatively, in the other extreme, a zombie. And somehow, all my work never gets over in merely a few hours. Proved amply by my tailor actually taking a full five minutes to recognise me this Saturday past.
Yet Saturday also convinced me that life is, indeed, trundling back to normal. I bought a pair of gorgeous sandals and loads of film for a trip to Coorg and Bangalore next week. I watched The Da Vinci Code - and rued not leching like a woman crazed at Hugh Jackman in X3: The Final Stand.
I stuffed myself at Crystal, near Wilson College on Marine Drive. There is no place in Punjab that makes better rajma and kheer than this rundown, chaotic little place where everyone is equal and no one knows what "standing in line" means! I am willing to bet on it. I also held a camera after what is certainly too long, the fruit of which you see here.
This is Marine Drive, outside the NCPA Towers. It wasn't quite sunset but a good frame nonetheless, I believe.
My favourite part of Saturday has to be the friend who insisted on mollycoddling me all day - only because he wanted me to stop being quiet. Apparently, my being less than voluble is a problem and "weird." :-)
I finished up the day reading a book that began:
It can hardly be a coincidence that no language on earth has ever produced the expression "As pretty as an airport."
An extraordinary day by the past month and a half. I can only live in the hope of it remaining so.