(I had no intention whatsoever to get back to posting on this blog again…but finally succumbed to the wishes of someone who wanted me to write and to whom I can’t say no)
It had been more than three weeks since I last attended class. I had gone home for ‘Durga Puja’ and my mind had naturally drifted its course from Chandigarh to Kolkata. Awestruck by the aura of the female deity and mesmerised by Bengali beauties, it was a splendid stay and kept my mind off Chandigarh. But again the words of my dear friend ‘blaise’ reverberated in my ears—‘good things don’t last long’. The call of college exams and Mamta Banerjee’s Blitzkrieg finally drove me out of Bengal too.
It was again a gruelling 3day exam routine on returning back to Kurukshetra and by Saturday evening I was in no mood to attend class in Chandigarh on Sunday again. However…
Incentive is essential in life to get some work done. And so with the hope of spending a few hours with my lady “loves”, I decided to attend class. My companions were engaged in a heated discussion on the way to Chandigarh on the global crisis, fluctuation of the ‘sensex’ and the depression hovering over Indian markets. Like every other occasion it finally ended Rang de Basanti style with an affirmation to knock off the finance minister. God bless Chidambaram…
The depression finally struck me too…
It took some time for the news to sink in. It was official now. No more revelling in the beauty of those lovely cascading curls, no more hopes of getting my fingers entwined…She had changed her batch…
Things could’ve brightened up if at least the psycho-analyst showed up and dealt with my so-called “depression”. But here we were facing some guy from some god forsaken bank from somewhere in north-India giving us some consolation about the stability of Indian banks in this hopeless worldwide crisis.
By the time I stepped out of class, I empathised with the likes of Chidambaram, Tata and Naresh Goyal.
How would Vijay Mallya be facing the first major crisis in his life?
I got myself a chilled kingfisher beer for the way back and understood how.
I tried to figure out what Paulo Coelho was trying to say about omens in his “confessions of a pilgrim”.
As of now all seems ominous…
Thursday, October 23, 2008
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