Ever since my return to Delhi 9 days ago, life has been anything but good. Bad news keeps floating in from everywhere. I don’t believe in coincidences, so something sinister has to be at play here. Oi, up there, if you are listening, dude, you have GOT TO STOP.
Meanwhile, I’ll curl up in a corner, listen to One Republic, remember the good times, and pretend it’s a good life.
When you’re happy like a fool Let it take you over When everything is out You gotta take it in
Oh this has gotta be the good life This has gotta be the good life This could really be a good life, good life
Much could be said about the trip to Bangalore but we shall wait for a time when I’m not as sleep deprived as now. A little anecdote though – already sleep-deprived, running a fever and somewhat stoned, I reached the railway station to discover that my ticket was not confirmed. If you are familiar with the Indian Railways, an unconfirmed (RAC) ticket basically means you get a seat that you essentially have to share with another person. For a couple of hours, that’s alright, bearable. For 36 hours, not so much. Nevertheless, what had to be done, had to be done. I finally did get a seat 26 hours after boarding the train. Most of those 26 hours were spent standing by the door smoking the frigging air out of my lungs.
After spending that long a time at a blessed door, anybody would feel a certain propensity towards it, I suppose. I know I did. What I saw the evening before we reached Delhi was a rude shock. The door reciprocated my current state of mind as well. And this is how the window to the world, the most important part of that door, looked –
“Death has a thousand doors to let out life: I shall find one”
“Not I, nor anyone else can travel that road for you.
You must travel it by yourself.
It is not far. It is within reach.
Perhaps you have been on it since you were born, and did not know.
Perhaps it is everywhere – on water and land.”