For Want Of A Better World

[Pubby's Note: This post is mostly fiction, and very mildly fact. Please do not take it seriously] A long, long time ago, in the land of Rajputana , there was a small, peaceful kingdom in the region of Gaumukh . The kingdom was called Dosamgarh , and it was a fast-growing realm of businessmen; people who liked to speak, to negotiate, to cut deals, and to gather goods and money. This money they gathered wasn’t for their own personal needs, although the drinks they got they generally kept to themselves. The money was used to hold the three big festivals, held every year in the honour of Tukdeydev , the lord of culture, innovation and sports. The festivals were the most important affair in Gaumukh ; so important that the king of Dosamgarh used to spend his entire life working for them, and his scions were the high priests of the festivals. After a few years, though, it became apparent that Gaumukh had become a very desolate place. Most people who used to live there had either emigrate...

For more months than I can care to count now, life’s been a series of hard, unrewarding toils, trials and tribulations. An extended spate of failed endeavours, half measures, backstabbing, exhaustion, the occasional exhilaration, jugaad , meetings, rage, hopelessness, helplessness and what all. Recently there’s been this obsession with the idea of all these efforts culminating into one giant release at Waves, which, apart from being the most kick-ass thing we could hope to organise in less than half the time an annual cultural festival should be done in, shall also be a confluence of bedraggled coordinators finally letting it ALL out, enjoying to their wits’ end, staying perhaps buzzed, drunk, stoned or just energetic at the festival where they helped bring about so much. Whatever had happened in the months previous, let it slide; these three days will be the stuff to tell your children when they enter college, if not their children in turn. Until a couple of days ago, my plans were th...