Possibly many of you have not missed my blog. I flatter myself thus. The thing is, I no longer had the zing, yang, ying, yen, zen... to write. My readership largely consisted of a few friends who obscenely threatened me to write again. The point is, I was going through a dry stretch of no broadband and obsessive dial-up involving some hasty google talk and orkut.Then I deleted my Facebook Profile. Now I want to spend the rest of my life in a quiet anonymity, sinking into wretched obscurity and finally blissful oblivion.
In medieval times, they tortured heretics, liars and writers(who were both and then some). They put them on racks and in fires. They sliced them open and prodded out their livers. They did unbelievable grotesqueries in the name of retribution. Now this sort of thing no longer happens. Destiny is an indistinct entity that does strange things in the name of globalization. However, my life has taken a strange Oriental pattern after a crucial paradigm shift. I see my ancestors in the form of crows. They haunt me.They die in front of my house and lie dead and baked in the merciless afternoon sun.Whenever I leave my house I see them dead and alive hopping about. I mean the crows that are alive hop, the dead ones of course don't. (I am not sure of this.Don't challenge me. I am very confused after watching movies like Blow Up, Rashomon and you know them rest all propagating multiple realities and many perceptions and crime and such post modern, decadent, kitschy things.)
Returning to the crows. The shastras say that our ancestral spirits return as crows. So well.
You know what I say? I say the crow always shits on me.Always.Without fail. And so it just shows, doesn't it?
Man is man's worst enemy. Or as we Bangalis say; Meyerai meyeder shobcheye boro shatru.