I feel empty. I feel raw. I feel rotten. I feel like not feeling.I have nothing to show, if someone to ask me about what I have achieved in my stay on this planet. Nothing.what is a few flirtations with literature, knowledge, pain and sweat.No blood. No tears. No medallions. No gallantry.Ah! I am disgusted with myself for being so ordinary.I deserve the void for I do not work half as hard as I could.I am wasting my life.
I have a confession to make. We don’t have a sofa at home. We seriously don’t.. Over the last two years, whenever Vartika has broached the touchy topic of a Sofa buy, I have ended up doing rants on how the money saved on not buying a Sofa would be able to feed us for a month, in case startup went bust. (And no, I was not counting on dumb UPA government allowing Sharad Pawar to make billions running amok on the vegetable and cereals market and looting us. In that case, count that sum to last for mere 15 days. That rant is for a separate day) Imagine a 30-40k sofa and me eating it, like the borers mostly do. Tough to imagine and sad to think of. So I return to the sofa tales. Vartika knew I had make her do with those mattresses. You know how dumb I am, relentlessly pointless. Unfortunately I ran into an Ariean, and that too my Mom. She looked at me and the mattresses and then again at me, and I went ballistic. From the sensibility of an accountant, to the eruditeness of an economist (De
Comments