Lamenting rebirth
I'm quaking underneath a skimpy towel that I have wrapped around my shoulders and neck, offering me warmth on a fairly still Fall evening. I say Fall, but I am lying, because I live in India, and this is not my season. That's worth repeating -- and I pray that you offer it any meaning you desire -- this is not my season. I'm shivering, because the weight of the world is on my towel-wrapped shoulders, and I am unwell owing to a change of seasons (my own, this time) and a host of maladies that plague me from within and outside. What does it mean to revive my writing here, on this blog? It means I am now a pawn in the game of productivity. It means that leisure must be calculated and add up in the spaces that documents measuring self worth and assessment as I transition from one phase in my life to another. I write this with regret because the neglect that I offered this page on the internet was one of utmost love. This neglect of my blog has been akin to an old friendship th
