I should start with an apology for ignoring this space. It isn’t that I didn’t have things to write about. I did. So many of them. There were so many moments when I wanted to come here and write but the thought of staring at a screen after a long day at work kept me away. Maybe I should write in a diary but how will that work? How do I carry a diary around all the time? And the danger of someone opening and reading everything? No. No. Never.
This post is going to say nothing and yet, express everything.
I went to Crossword the other night after watching a play in Bandra. I had planned to have dinner at a new restaurant, Farmer’s Cafe or Bastian or good old Suzette. But I wanted to reach home on time and get back to my book. I dropped into the bookshop without any intention of buying one. A kindle is more convenient than a book. I have to finish reading the books I’ve already bought instead of buying new ones. I looked at the books with longing and wondered “Why am I not writing enough?” 2 years back I was spending my free time (I had loads of it) with a writer acquaintance (can’t call him a friend) and I asked him “How do I write a book?”. He replied “Write everyday. For a whole year. The book will come to you”. And yet, here I am. Unable to make the time to write everyday. I don’t have 15 minutes everyday. But there is a reason for it. I have been exhausting myself to the point that there is no space for anything else. Because when I think about my life and where it is going, it makes me unsure about every aspect of my life. The only thing in my control is not thinking about it and letting destiny take it’s course. Everyone should have a 5 year or a 10 years plan. Atleast there is a benchmark to evaluate how one is doing.
If someone asks me who I am and what I want in life, I won’t be able to answer it. Because am absolutely clueless.