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I have never been a big fan of the monsoon. I appreciated what it brought to delhi. A sense of relief, escape from the searing purity of the desert, life. However, a good monsoon always made me cringe. Pregnant, fat, large lizards, followed by disgusting hordes of lizard babies. Flooded, collapsing roads. Inconsiderate mother-fucking drivers splashing putrid muddy water on you at the bus stop. But on the whole, the monsoon was tolerable. It balanced itself out. And it feeds the lot of us.
In Bombay, there is no balance. It does not fucking stop. Clothes never dry. Shoes are destroyed. One is forced to walk in floaters and slippers, wading through water which has unknown quantities of human animal waste thoroughly diluted in it. And then, if wealth is but a distant nightmare, you go back to a flat that isnt what it would be in delhi. Mine is more than comfortable for one person. I am, however, over-run. By earthworms. Lizards. Flies. Everyday I spray three kinds of Baygon in what has to be toxic quantities. My maid is efficient and regular. I clean up crumbs, wash dishes and take out the garbage on time. To no avail. It is a losing battle. I feel like any day now i shall be evicted by the creatures from beyond. Some insects whose names i would rather not know. Earthworms in the bedroom. Fuck. I shall die either of caner or one of this things laying egs in my brain while i sleep.

The itch or lack of responsibility

Ever been bullied? An obnoxious punjabi/ jaat taller and broader says 'haath mein khujli ho rahi hai' or some such and proceeds to pummel you into an assorted selections of jams and jellies, for sale in C.R park and Uttarakhand Seva Kendra. An itch, thats what bullies get. An itch, caused by a lack of something.

Ever had an itch? Not a regular physical one, or the bullying one. The deeper metaphorical psychic one. Where to go? What to do? Life isnt this. This is not my home. Not like a physical itch. The physical itch is caused by an irritant. Your scratch is an open declaration of hostilities. A battle easily fought, where the enemy is clear and present. Shirk says the itch. The deeper itch. Get out. You're losing your soul. Fuck the soul. Your losing your intellect. Honed to arrogance with millennia indoctrination. The woman made you happy, run motherfucker run. The job, they scoff at it, you love doing this but the scorn of those you wish to impress, run motherfucker run. Dont like the city, whine bitch whine bitch, get over yourself you little shit. People come here hoping to be able to be poor. Do an honest days work and be happy for it.

Ever been bullied? I wasnt enough.

"Into the same river we step and we do not step, we are and we are not."

It has been a long time since i have written anything at all. Words are being ejaculated like bits of phlegm from a smoker's cough. A year or two ago i always had something to say, mostly i think, because i had an air of superiority brought on by some watered down version of leftist idealism. The idealism is being chipped away at by a score of events, mostly to do with the way 'the party' has shamed itself. I wish more  ever that it was something worth believing in and fighting for. Now when it lies on the cusp of losing what power it had, i would like nothing more than to submit myself to it. The maoists cannot fill that void, at least for me. Firstly, because they are not (unlike the CPM) at their core an upper class elitist party. And more importantly, i would hope, i have engendered in myself a faith, not unlike that of american girls in unicorns and homo-erotic vampires, in the Indian state. I cannot believe that all it has done is wholly undesirable and cannot go to war against it. 

Lately, having 'sold out' on a massive scale, the small material benefits, and the large ones do in many cases seem to be what people desire. Social upliftment as defined by the liberal capitalist good life seems to be what they want. And while i have my own opinions on how and why they desire what they do and articulate it as they do, i no longer have the courage of conviction to call that opinion knowledge.

So now i do something i enjoy, and am suitably ashamed of enjoying, among people whom i would never interact with had my life taken the trajectory it was supposed to. In addition i am now unable to write. I shall learn again.