In October, my company granted me a sabbatical and I bounced around western Europe for the month.
I expected to get a lot done (ofcourse) about the projects I had planned- instead I took hundreds of futile pictures, laid around on lonesome Portuguese beaches for days, had an existential crisis and ate-drank-walked-repeated till I felt the nausea coming on!
Nevertheless, I made some happy progress [mind you, I am painfully far from actually finishing the projects] and the trip was some kind of heaven..so I am left with zero regrets.
Come November, and I was back in Delhi, part-depressed, part-craving-some-real-work. A lot of beginnings- Modi decided to change the country [but left everyone in a cashless, queue-hogging, change-counting mess], Trump is going to be president of USA, I am learning to play the ukulele, Akhil scored a job, a bunch of my friends have weddings to plan, some of them have heartbreaks to heal, and the others are oscillating between being content and restive ! All in all a good month to look back at that existential crisis and have a second crisis about how to feel about it all.
And today its December already, and I am thinking of the thing someone said about time passing faster as you grow older. I am as old as my Mum was when she had me and yet my life seems like just a collection of pictures. Or not. Its wonderful, really! Or is it? Okay third crisis coming on..