Bonfires of My Vanity
The North Wind which had built up steadily had suddenly dropped dead.
The Winter Rains had ceased, leaving a pall of ground mist that made winter bonfires of her departing car’s headlights..
Try to be different she had said before driving off in a huff !!
How could I be different from what I had made myself: a directionless Indian middle class idealist, a permanent dissident to the powers that be, probably an anarchist.
A dabbler, a dreamer, a perpetual cynic, a habitual rejector, a ruthless, shiftless, philandering wasted, semi – creative fellow.
Too clever not to demolish an argument, too mulish to settle for a flawed one…
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the black that is your colour for blog; always
yeah its a habit.. one of those like my others which is hard to kick…