The Update.

Its 2:30am, and I passed on another night of 'baby baby' with my angelic sweetums, my goodoloo, and all and every other little mush-term. shes that, my girlfriend. To quote a friend, On good days I feel like Ibn Batuta, on bad days I don't. Today was more of a mixed bag of sorts. It is a phenomenal day (If you are Bong, i. e.) of the Annual Durga-Puja festival, Mother has been awake since 7 am, the clings and clangs of the kitchen utensils have a shrill resonating place in my mid-sleep-mid-mindfucked period which is to be 9am. Last night's toxins have still not passed through that well, they remind me of the last of such nights that are to happen. I bid goodbye to a friend, spent time considerably pondering on 'life goes on'. My age of uncertainty is upon me, this time though I am certain to encounter it.

All that aside, the clings and clangs of this morning also bring another shattering clunk on my modest intellect. I shall be surrounded by family all day, cousins, their children, other cousins, their children-ness, Is that a lamp? Can i touch it? Why is this music a song?, fucker, if you'd have known, you would have known why this music is a song. I also made him believe that man did not land on the moon, good luck passing history, ass. The cooking begins, the aroma thickens, things move too quick too fast. I delay bathing imagining 'daily home' and thwack again, here I stand making niceties in boxers and a half slimed face (almost, thank you pillow!) in my own room, with Mother leading the pack marching in her beloved regiment of guests. This is family I agree but slow down a little! This urgency in tidyness does not go down well with my self-respect, I shower and present myself all shaved and ready. Puja exuberates the season of togetherness, a sense of belonging, a culture not lost, but found, every single second of it. It is hard to miss really, if one is a resident of the epicentre of such an intensive extravaganza. Cars double as snails, motorcyclists are in a trance-like god mode where alcoholic swerves are like the next shot of jack. It is pretty much what a city does when it goes to party, together. Alas, I sit at the bar hoping for the next song to be better than the last one.

This skepticism is blank not in the least, I was supposed to be registered and induced into the British higher education system by now, and here I am gathering my eroded roots in the rootiest of the rooty ways of finding one's own, the cliche of them all. Some people start counting backwards from the last day of the festival, to mark the first day of the next time. Growing up to this sensational time of the year was always beautiful, the new toy if you wanted, all the new clothes for sure and also that ocassional something to make it feel like 'Ah, its puja now.' This one however, like I said it's not completely Ibn batuta, but Bangla Batuta is not far-fetched. I was refused entry into my Mother-nation, for colonising us that is what they deserve, some more all the time. Lol, anyway If my entry clearance officer is reading, I have provided proof that er..that my father is my father. Please let me study what I want to now. I was race-ready before the refusal, this is a setback, nonetheless but I cannot support these unfortunate chain of events, however there is that page I want to turn, I am at a status-quo with life. I expect no more, I know no more, I shall grab with both hands what is thrown at me, Come 30th I hope to depart, it would have been the 28th. BUT, MY BELOVED CITY IS AT A PARTY, the courier service is catering to the bullish needs of their brilliant beloved families, 'Lets eat there today, it's only an hour normally, so we should be there in two if we leave now, Puja you see.' Hence I was delayed another two after originally being delayed for seven. Thats about nine days of catching up in a 50 class course, guess I will have to know how re-exams are taken in the first world. No matter, as always my rant pays dividends, at the end of this blog, I feel content with life, I won nine days with my folks, some quality time with my buddy, a trusty love-labrador. Even though, I sit at the bar, I am waiting for the next song, please be me. Goodnight.