Took a bus @ 9:30AM to the Regional Passport Office. As ill luck would it, it was closed. Not having the heart to come again another scorching day, I bought 3 forms @ a premium of Rs.2/- per form from a hawker. Now I know that this is an inadvertent aiding & abetting of a practise that plagues our society, better sense gave way to its pragmatic cousin.It was then off to Park Street where I stopped @ Oxford Bookstore to browse thru the latest music albums. A couple of them (classical & jazz) wereworth a buy, but I had no money to spare on a CD.I showed my way out into the open world ,& in keeping with the nascent spirit bought the current issue of Linux For You. I would have walked into Music World next, but the idea of withstanding the allure of Lady Ella & Stan Getz once again sounded beyond me.So I instead took the Metro to Tollygunge, bought BusinessWorld's latest issue, hopped into an auto & headed home.
I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still