N and N, love always.
I had another post that I’d wanted to post but thought it would be a mockery of blogging, defeating the very purpose of real, intimate, heart-felt writing. I say this is because my earlier post circled around a theme that was rather jovial and happy (like a kid who’s seen a shooting star); what I feel write now is quite the on
contrary. Today, I don’t feel so right and nothing I do seems to undo that. Thus, staying true myself, my blog and you, I post this. I save that post for another day, not sodden but light.

My stay in India is coming to an end and this day, the 20th of August 2009 asserts that it was not a satisfactory visit. Definitely not worthy of that kind of lofty imagination I’d used to foresee my days in dear old Dilli. I don’t like the morbid, melancholic tone this article is taking. Neither do I like affirming with such aplomb the unsatisfactory nature of my visit but, writing is better than moping. Also, it’s a good way to remember- my visit and laugh on the emotional upturn of this day, and for future reference, read it to feel better on another gloomy day. It’s my own boost-thy-morale mechanism. It’s working for me already.

(I’ve ended the post so brusquely that I am ashamed. The point is that it’s my blog and in my opinion it’s supposed to be something that quite simply SOOTHES. It’s done that to me and making most of it. I’m going to "move it".)