I wonder what will I do if someone asks me why the hell should I know what you think or what you do? That certain anonymous someone is, in a way prodding at the very purpose of having a personal blog (as opposed to a technical, travel or gossip blog). Honestly, offhand I don’t have an answer. I write because I have to, and you read because you do. Period.

But then, as the proverbial devil takes over me in my infinite idle hours, the rumination begins. Why do I have to sweat in a traffic jam while some thousand postmen stage a protest march in Dalhouse Sqaure, venting their collective anger at having to march down the streets in summer heat or just to catch up on old mates they hadn’t met since years ago at the employment exchange: I would never know Protest against what, how long, and why: I have no clue about. My role, since I have landed up in Dalhouse Square at that juncture of time, is to stoically bear it. The catharsis of strangers.

I remember during the seasonal elections they used to paint the houses next to mine, as well as, of course, mine, with fluorescent shades of hammer and sickle or the omnipotent hand or the something else or the other. They painted them right over our wickets which we had demarcated with red chalk or pastels. Cricket was banned in those days; they said the kids might ‘deface their walls’. Well had to wait patiently, till the elections got over. Why I never knew? I didn’t vote then, cricket was what I wanted to do. But being born in that street and growing up during that time, I had to switch over to TV or videogames, or flying kites. Again the collective catharsis of the democracy was borne with a smile.

It took me a while to realize that catharsis is a fundamental right of people like (and maybe unlike) us. From purgation by the railway tracks, blaring mikes in the highway, mouthing profanities in claustrophobic local trains, banging keyboards in frustration, and the endurance thereof, is the victory lap of mutual coexistence.

And in this spirit of mutual coexistence, my dear reader, I urge to bear with my catharsis, since you lave chanced upon this hawker in the footpath of cyberspace. For remember, we are brothers in our goal, the common goal of easeful whiling away of time.

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