"Golden October gliding by
A misty veil she casts around...
The leaves against the hazy sky
Are flittering to the ground..."

I can't figure out the very reason why i lugged two huge pieces of luggage all across the bloody city to get onto a train with BAD co-passengers, 27 odd hours in boring circumstances to come all the way here to rot in splendor.
I really cannot figure out.
I have not studied a word...or worked on my assignment...at this rate i want to do well in my courses.
Irony.
All I have really done is been very very angry at people...of all sizes and relations. And shouted at everyone and been very very very moody.
The joys of it all I tell you.
This cannot be pujo can it?
All the unbelievable noise and the traffic and the crowds?
The sweat and the long lines.
This year I don't even have new clothes. At i don't even feel like going shopping. That is new!!
I didn't go out with my friends for they are all so busy with their own lives that I can't seem to be fitting in anywhere. And I can't really complain because it is work for some and compulsion for others.
when you find no solace in the prayers of the priests or the flowers at the goddesses' feet where do you go?

Glass Shards

Some things lay broken in a desolate heap near the bin. They reflected the light off a smile or a more frequent frown and then slipped into silence and darkness. And no one cleared the mess away. After all its always easier to shout and scream than really do anything about it..right?
So what if the whole house burnt down?
No. Obviously it doesn't matter.
And so they told me that this was not my place any longer and the heap of broken things grew dangerously higher. Piles and piles of long battered thoughts and hopes and esteems.
I am so happy that i have an option. But why revel in that?
Why not revel in the talks of friends and the happiness of being pampered silly?
What am I talking about? The language of the escapist? And of dark clouds that are limited only to their own heads?
Going...going...gone.
And the pile of things i was ranting about...that was just glass. What relationships today are made of.

some roads lead nowhere...and you do walk on those.

Some days ago I had left my house, the place that is home with all its familiarity. The laughter and the fights. The dog and the neighbour upstairs who hates her. The siblings and the mother. The granny and the cakes.
But this is not about the left over dregs of homesickness, for me and my friends have cried ourselves to silence over the last few months. We are no longer home sick but will jump to the proposal of going home, not thinking that for years we had plot our get aways.
So is the irony of our age.
And now its all gone. The roads graze dense undergrowth and run past historical monuments. The city seems to have enclosed us in mile high red brick walls and placed our semester texts in front of us. You no longer can leave. Well not at least right now. Day in and day out we trudge uneven paths to the desks and pitch our intellect against the walls of tradition and the rocks. They shatter and fall into pieces that become our alter egos. The guy who is too arrogant to make any friends and the girl who gets all the men. There is a bit of us in every other face of that hand picked 35 from across the country and the world. Yet we know that we all are skilled politicians and veteran liars. So what if we are this young?
There are the bad habits which is considered to be escape routes and relationships that are built and broken over night. And who knows one day we might get dragged into this and become cosmopolitan. But mind you, we swear that we won't. Never, Never, Never!
And then they tell you that everything you ever learnt is just a farce and now they will teach you about Life, Universe and Everything. And all you need is a towel and a hostel room.
These are the roads that lead to nowhere. Ans these are the roads on which i am leaving reluctant footprints.