This weekend was a hectic one, filled with a flurry of activities and large dollops of introspection. One of my best friends, Rahul, came to Delhi from Bangalore. We've been best buddies since our school days. Spent Friday evening and Saturday with him. It was great. Sunday was spent with another friend at an event of hers.
I figured a lot of things this past weekend. I have to work for myself, simply have to. I viewed my options and was surprised by how much they've dwindled and diminished since my college days. In fact, the plethora of options that lay before me a few months ago was nowhere in sight. I was shocked, to say the least, and quite worried. Since my college days, I've wanted to write. And there-in lay my answer. It all suddenly seemed so clear to me. Writing was the answer. And I don't mean pithy blog posts or letters home. I mean books. I was writing with great gusto at MICA, but without direction. Not more than a couple of months ago, I started on a new book, an idea that I'd had for a long time. And I liked the way it was shaping up. And I wasn't the only one. Right! Write.
P.S.: I hate the way this blog post has been written. Easily one of my worst posts. Sorry.