It has been months and months since all this preparation started. And still it is in the preparation form. Today should have been the first day of the summit if things worked out as planned, but no, not to be, as we have no funds coming in, no letters been accredited, no calls working the way we want it to work.
As for me, and my life, well it has taken a drastic change. Hours of internet time, attachment to my laptop fortified while the social interaction seems to be with those who are not the least near me! Hours of stress, suppressed anger and frustration resulting in lack of sleep, hair fall and the life of a zombie!
I tell Rishi of the great adventure with the ministry, the great promises made that were never delivered, how hard it was to even gain the accreditation letter for the summit. He replies to me while seated on the lawn and enjoying the cool breeze on the other side of the world “welcome government work!”. To be honest I would have preferred an exit rather than a welcome if this be the quality to be expected. But then, do I have much of a choice in this case? I have no doubts that it be not the case.
The question popping in my mind, “what would the life of a mole be?”
I am not referring to the one which is on your face, I am referring to that tiny animal that lives under ground and never sees sunshine. Yeah well that be the nature of my life. At least the animal I am sure has its strolls on the grass in moonlight with its mole partner, I be unfortunately deprived of that as well. My umbilical cord with the laptop and internet remains intact preventing me from going for strolls or checking out any moonlight over a balcony to say the least! Would that prevent me from a jump over a balcony?? Guess that is one thing I have not put my thoughts into. Something to analyse. Strength of the umbilical cord be the next subject of analysis and the thesis to be published soon, before of after Vositha goes insane!
Life as I know has forever changed, with many more failures or possible failures of exams to be awaited.
And so “She” goes back to responding to all the mails and the comments made with a sigh unheard by the world, and a face of an insomniac whose eyes be forever framed with circles around them in darker shades.