I am grateful for my daily life. For my joys. For my contentment. I feel far removed from the unsettled feeling I would have were I in Delhi or Bombay right now. Not that I am all light and unaffected, but- thousands of miles away- its much less real than it could be.

It was another day of streaming news on the net. The stories went round and round, entangled in each other like the fearsome mess they were part of. Then they started repeating, and we started reading. Facebook statuses give glimpses of what people we know are thinking, windows into opinions and emotions and interest. Blog entries vent unabashedly- anger, vitriol, sadness, indignation, even hatred. Articles talk of how seminal this is, others on how it could/should be. Pictures speak like sledgehammers.

Then they all start blurring into one another. My head spins, stops and spins again. The heaviness weighs us down. The unending flow of information crushes us. We go for a walk. Laughter makes an appearance, if warily. People mill around in the mall, shopping. We grab a bite, trying to avoid talk of this. We still do a few times. We window shop. I look for pesto for a prospective pasta at night, but its too expensive.

I come back and doze off on her shoulder as she reads and watches some more. I wake up with a headache. More bodies. I change my status update again. I'm not being able to switch off too well. Its not like I entirely want to. But I know I should, at least for a while. I feel guilty for wanting to.

A shower helps. A small Laphroaig from the emptying bottle doesn't help the guilt but it feels good. Then I feel must write. Its nothing for the world to read I suppose, but I feel I should.

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