I just realised that this year there was no post gushing about the rains. Actually, I was reading someone else’s blog and I realised how utterly predictable I was. Every single year, I write a post just around this time or may be even earlier, depending on how badly I want the rain–how much I love the rain.
Things are not very different this time around except that I am in no mood to gush. Work bogs you down–it tires your body and exhausts your mind. You can’t just pick up your bag and head to Regal and then go boating from the Gateway. A friend told me once,” All journalists are cynical people.” That’s probably why whatever we write is no good. Simply expensive newsprint and a bunch of facetious advertisements. (They really are.)
If anyone could do the one thing that pops into his mind the minute it pops into his mind, he would be a happy person. But, no. He will think, dissect, analyse, (may even do a SWOT analysis, if he is the kind. More on that later), wonder, marvel, question and finally decide that he does not want to do it. People would never be depressed or have to live off syrup or weed, in that case.
In fact, I think the people who are depressed drive themselves to depress-dom because they do all the above things. Sometimes I think I am headed that way too. The weight of my thoughts is too much to bear. They drum against the epithelium, incessantly–just like the rain.
That is perhaps why there was no post on the rain this time.
