Europe Diary 2026: Days 11, 12, 13 -- 20, 21, 22 October

 19-Oct-2026

Just Arriving in Venice, Italy

Before I go on to describe our day in Venice, the night before is worth this paragraph. A city with its quaint part built on stocky wood entrenched in Venetian backwaters ;and, burly 19ᵗʰ century dwellings mounted on the stocky wood. Residential & commercial alike. We landed in a hotel that boasts of a similar build. With our room key's chain weighing heavier than our luggage. We felt lightheaded though, given our urbanic predilections. I was surprised by how I soberly I took it. Like an unsuitable hotel room is an unsuitable hotel room; and it doesn't get more room in my headspace than what it earns. 

With aching forearms that lugged & carried bulky trunks, and an equally aching head (from gnawing hunger), we landed at Ital India. An Indian dinner and generous lager later, we made-did with the mustardy-smelling room. An occasional hoot & shrill from Venetian revellers floated in as ambient noise from the window, for our disturbed sleep. Disturbed because of (a) how the window-frame reminded me of endless wintry nights of the 90s in Karimnagar; and (b) the room being unapologetically antediluvian.

20-Oct-2026

Out & about in Venice

Settlements around water bodies always produced drowsy towns; exceptions exist, I concede. We get down for coffee early enough only to see the town purposefully prancing already, too assured for its watery roots. 

Lagoons is the word for what Venice is necklaced with. Water from the Adriatic Sea shoring up at land pockets, in quick enough geographic successions that Góndola rides are as much a legit public transport as novelty. A few rides on water across the town happened with enough pictures for posterity. 

I loved the backlanes of Venice. Parts of the town has its brickwork resembling the ordinary ruins of Deccan civilisation, with which I am painfully familiar. I grew up breathing the gradual erosion of places my parents once called their homes. This brickwork is like a fleeting window into what once existed in my life but I had no language to describe. More than once on the 20ᵗʰ, I stood there as Venice's backwaters stirred a Proustian rush of memories.

Enough reminiscing and cutting to the chase, Venice is a rather tourist-friendly town with its own amalgam of historic attractions, damn good fashion, and a cosmopolitan footfall. 

And then, we found ourselves on a train to Florence by the nightfall.

Minutes away from the calendar turning, we were in Florence; this time in a contemporary hotel; announcing their ambition in their name - Hotel Luxor. A Pakistani with shy English welcomed us in. I hope his Italian isn't as shy. 

21-Oct-2026

Florénce, Italy

A rainy day. With enough coffee to help us warm up for the walky day. This's the 13ᵗʰ day of the vacation, and I'm beginning to come up short with descriptions about what I see and only see. A classic Italian city with its ample share of ancient bridges, cathedrals, and timeworm streets. Loved, loved walking around in Florénce with interceptions of coffee, gelato, and chirpy buskers who play Bella Ciao and only its versions. Enjoyably though. 

Florence-to-Rome, 21ᵗʰ Evening

Here's a logistical anecdote. Every travel plan needs to have a wrinkle, for what's a travel plan without one? We had 97 minutes to: get down in Pisa --> Lug our trunks across a train/bus to the "tower" --> soak in the tower's tilt --> lug our trunks back across more than one train/bus, back to the Pisa Centràle station --> traverse across the interminable number of terminals --> make it to the train in one piece. All in 97 minutes. 

Here's where serendipity rolls its dice, after a series of uncontrollable delays (remember we've been notoriously on time all through?), I had given up on catching the final bus back to Pisa Centràle at 5.52 pm. It was a 14 minute ride. The bus arrived at the bus-stop at 6.00 pm instead. The train was at 6:12 pm. Swathi was frantically contemplating all options to make the train, while I was focused on finding a peaceful smoking spot, away from the nosy Telugu people who'd just hogged the bus-stop. Because, hey, we'd missed the train in my head.

Swathi being Swathi, she checked the train's schedule. And the train got delayed by 17 minutes. Within 17 seconds of learning that, the bus had come. Within 17 minutes, we were at Pisa Centrale. And, in our seats with 4 minutes to departure. The best part is: with a 20-minute delay, the train still arrived in Rome 17 minutes ahead of its time. I'm not even using the number 17 arbitrarily here. 

21-Oct-2026 Nightfall

Rome, Italy

Alright! The final destination of this trip. A trip that's been so stirringly eventful that whenever I've to think linearly or write a blog, I scroll up/down the gallery for pictures to jog my memory. 

Being the capital, Rome lives up to a European capital's expectations in the minds of a touring Asian. It shows its capital status right from the flooring that greets you as you step down from the train. Even, marbled, and consistent. A well-laid-out railway station with signage kind to non Italians. 

At the many mouths of the station, it's chilly. The chill doesn't bother Asian folk selling B-grade C-Type chargers & shady hotel rooms. Largely targeting tourists from 3rd world countries; or ones from the first world who willingly look for the third-world adventure. The customary guilt tries making an appearance in my head; but the notion of 'opportunity' tamps the guilt back to where it belongs. 

A nice ride with a 50-something Italian in his cosy Corolla covering all major attractions of Rome lands us at the hotel. Suitably airy, accessible, and connected. To what? To everything. Read into it. 

22-Oct-2026

A Roman Day

Walky day again. With an early rise. Customary coffees done. Feels nice to not haul around a jacket (for cold) or better, wear one. 

A loaded itinerary covering: Vatican City --> Trevi Fountain --> Holy Kiss Statue --> Castel Sant'angelo  --> Pantheon. 

Vatican City is a drag. Blame me, scowl at me. I said what I said. One, I'm no believer of religious institutions. Two, the museums inside the City are Non c'è comparison to what I'd seen before in London & New York. St Peter's Basilica is quite a sight though. 

All other sights were mere sights. With each one deserving not more than the time taken to make those bookings. Disagree? May you suit yourself. 

It's 8.30 pm, and we're back at the base. With Budweiser being downed, and some nice food on its way.

23ʳᵈ October has: Colosseum | Monumento Nazionale a Vittorio Emanuele II

I guess 23rd & 24th will have a dispatch of its own. See you then.  

Europe Diary 2026: Days 7,8,9,10 -- 16,17,18,19 October

 16-Oct-2026

Grindelwald, Switzerland

Okay. Another mountain day. It's Grindelwald day. The Swiss' public transport deserves another mention of top repute. It's a seamless combination of trains, trams, cable cars, and buses; with one tiny feedback about signage needing to be in larger fonts. Probably, this is the only way to make the Swiss frown their faces once a day; who are otherwise always-smiling-if-not-straightfaced folk. 

The day went fairly as planned, with inclined walking as its theme. Careful planning helped us be back at Wengen by nightfall. This has always happened to me: a sense of satiation that borders on surfeit; around the fifth-to-seventh day of every holiday we take. An excess consumption of all things scenic, beautiful, and aesthetically pleasing. That I've had enough; and I need a dosage of quotidian routine to revive the vacation spirit. The evening brought just that. We spent that evening like we spend most evenings of our life. Light and night - turned off in sync with retired Europeans.

17-Oct-2026

Jungfraujoch - Top of Europe

Switzerland

3rd mountain-ing day in a row. I was coming to the end of my mountain battery, was what I felt while dressing up in layers that morning. Little did I know that Jungfrau was going to be the highlight of our snowy adventures. Such a smooth ride, thanks to the mighty powerful trains climbing up mountains at almost 45° angle, and we were at the neck of Jungfrau glacier. It's famous for being the world's skiing battleground (with a skiing world cup due in Feb'27). And even our novice eyes could see why. It's a glacier painted by the proverbial drunk Russian novelist. Danger deceivingly hiding behind the beauty of it all. Thanks to capitalism, I could crack open a cold beer at the 4000-odd mt. altitude at 12 pm, but not without Haryanvi music playing in the background and annoyingly cheerful Indian youths dancing and ensuring their dance-moves (and bearded faces) are well videographed.

We harked back to the base of Jungfrau (bolded spelling is the region's name; and this one's the mountain's), found an Asian place, and shared a tomato rice sold as Biryani. Was it tasty? Or, were we hungry? 

The day's end had a move-on to Interlaken. Practically a city nested between 2 lakes. At this point, I'm certain that whatever few mental health therapists the country has, they all have a blanket remedy printed on their Rx pads: step out of your house, look around, and breath. I'll die on this hill. 

An Indian-run, lake-facing hotel (not before we lugged our suitcases up a hill) had a room waiting: an Indian-style hotel room that doesn't ask for a touchpad room key but a good ol' fashioned lock-n-key. That took care of Swathi sleeping untroubled. 

Before sleeping, we'd gone to Taj Palace. For some spicy rice after kilos of bread over the last 1 week. A frenetic, middle-aged man ministering a steady stream of diners -- turns out he's a friend of the restaurant's (Indian) owner, and a Pakistani himself. From Lahore. Came in to have a meal, and ended up waiting tables for the evening to help out his Indian friend. We shared some cigarette time. He blew out smoke and hope for his country in one breath. 

18-Oct-2026

Interlaken, Switzerland --> Milán, Italy

Swathi knows she was pushing me with 3 snow-laden days consecutively. She followed it with a warm, walking day in Interlaken, peppered with coffee stops and shopping breaks. 

A pleasant day with a stormy evening brewing.

Us crossing into Italy had several changeovers between the two countries; at obscure stations that looked eerie & abandoned. While I'm low-key proud we've showed up at all places at least 20 minutes ahead of time, this unmistakably-Italian station Domodossola had our train arriving at a different platform (as opposed to what was announced), and leaving too. A 30-odd bunch of us stood stranded, asking mutely for help, looking at passersby who either didn't want to help, or couldn't if they wanted to. How were we supposed to know that the train's platform had changed? Someone way down in Giorgia Meloni's pecking order should answer. Should answer in English, at that. 

After the proverbial hitchhiking, we arrived in Milán.

We also brought in Swathi's birthday with a poorly baked pizza and a couple of non-alcoholic Corona beers at around 0100 hrs, Italy time. 

19-Oct-2026

Milán --> Venice, | Italy

Lazy morning has been the theme on our special days. We checked out at 1200 hrs, on dot. To go about the city. Pro tip post fuckup - In Italy, Don't Trust Either Apps or Announcement Boards. Always Ask Uniformed Staff.

Milán's just recovering from protests that overkilled their purpose and overstayed their welcome. Locals' words, not mine. That coupled with its inconsistent public transport takes Non-Italofono visitors for a wild ride, scratching their heads and bobbing between a tram stop, and a train station, and a bus stop. Ticket kiosks laugh at you in Italian after you select English as the transacting language. Trains run at their own time, with a characteristic languor of a Hyderabadi shop-owner. The schedule is when the train comes, not the other way around. 

Duomo di Miláno was magnificent though. Its construction slugged across 6 centuries, and it didn't amuse the Indian in me. That's still quicker than a ton of court cases in India. A lot of walking with a shade-side, nice lunch at one of the plaza-bedecked cafés in the Brera district. 

Milán redeems itself (Swathi's words) with its astounding architecture, and its railways stations stand at the front & centre of such architectural displays.

I am typing this from our train to Venice, which we boarded at Miláne Centrale railway station. On a different day far in the future, if the materialist-me revisits Italy with my own chauffeur-driven pit stops, I'll be less agitated to stop and marvel at the station's breathtaking construct, shape, and form. 

I guess I've one last blog piece to come about this trip. I will be back in a few days. 

A presto!

Europe Diary 2026: Days 5, 6 -- 14, 15 Oct 2026

 Day 5: 14-Oct-2026

Zürich, Switzerland

Prosaic. Uninspiring. Austere. It looked straight out of a postcard, although like a one a Mumbai-based accountant from the 80s would have related to. Arriving in Zürich from Paris didn't help either. For all its insouciant-bordering-on-brusque locals, Paris still made up to visitors with its charm, art, and neighborhoods. Zürich lacked it all. 

We lost a goodie bag somewhere between Zürich HB station and a local pub; and we felt really bad about it. 

The day had Rhine Falls in it. The falls are not something an Indian would have in mind but they were still pretty. The marriage of reliable civic infrastructure and breezy climate delivers on the promise of worthwhile visits to even mediocre attractions in Europe. 

The day drew to a close with us finding ourselves in Lucerne. Lucerne blew Zürich out of the water for us in mere 5 minutes of us arriving. You move your head and there's a visual arresting your senses. Public infrastructure was laid out mindfully, with travelers as its centrethought.

The relatively-less-famous attractions of Lucerne had us in for a surprise for all their charm & magnificence. In days leading up to the trip, when well-meaning curious friends asked about the itinerary, I said I was looking forward to 'walking.' And, boy, did I walk the hell out of Lucerne. Gleefully. 

The cafés were so inviting that I looked past safe Indian dining options with indifference unbeknownst to me. We landed at an Irish pub -  Alpineum Kaffeehaus°Bar where we devoured their bread menu and washed it down with Belgian lager. 

P.S: Every time you tilt your head to spot a visual, there'll be more than a handful of Indian heads poking into your visual frame. Well behaved though. Most Indians are well behaved when their surroundings look frighteningly clean. (I can't help but chuckle, remembering Manu Joseph's Why The Poor Don't Kill Us here).

 Day 5: 15-Oct-2026

Mount Titlis, Switzerland

Start of the icy adventures bit, slated to last till 17-Oct. Mount Titlis at the top of the list. Day started with a multi-changeover journey from Lucerne to Stanstad to Engelberg to Mount Titlis. I'm beginning to run out of words to describe the scenic landscape. But, what awaits at the base of Mount Titlis is a human engineering endeavor to marvel at. An undertaking of highest ambition with visitors' gasps & shrieks as its end goal. Cable cars and ice-walks lead you straight into the mountain's bosom, a cold one at that. There's enough coffee at the 3000-mt altitude to let you continue enjoying the view. 

It was hard to spot a non-Asian on the mountain though. I held up a magnifying glass to spot one finally, who was staring into the abyss, probably wondering at the effects of globalization that practically Asianized tourist spots in a country like Switzerland. 

A handful of memories (read: pictures) later, our way back to Lucerne was like clockwork: transiting through trams and buses at right timestamps to arrive in this mountain-village Wengen. 

You do a 270° sweep, standing at the mouth of the railway station, and the village reveals itself entirely to you. It looks straight out of European postcards we laid our hands on in the 90s. It's a village with no cars. We were walking up the street to arrive at our hotel, and we knew we were in a special place. The night was concealing it all but showing just enough to perceive its specialty. 

< 100 mts. from our hotel is a glowing Irish pub with Aerosmith playing and IPAs flowing. Crystal Bar. The name took me straight back to RTC X Roads in Hyderabad. A couple of Belgian lager pints and a crusty pizza later, we nestle ourselves in our room with a balcony that oversees the snowy mountains. 

All in all, it's been 12 hours we're here in Wengen. The sights of mountains and the smells of Mary Jane waft on the streets. Each one has something to take. We'll go with the sights. 

We have a 4-hour mountainous adventure for the day, and that's it. 

More to follow.

Europe Diary 2026: Days 2, 3, 4 -- 11, 12, 13 Oct 2026

 Day 2: 11-Oct-2026

Paris

It's ironic that 'productive' is the best word to describe 11-Oct. It was a heavyduty on-foot day, covering: The Louvre, Palace of Versailles, and the Eiffel. Age is catching up. Swathi & I looked at each other almost at the same time our lower backs broke because of walking. As I sipped beer and we munched potato chips, we reminded each other the importance of working out. The endpoint of our last stop was the entry point of the Palace of Versailles; where the notorious Ironman contest was being concluded. I stood there looking at (a) the opulent palace on one side, and (b) the finishing triathloners on the other, with beer on my mind.

It's unfair to expect people to be ambitious in a climate like Europe's. Where you turn your head, and there's a scenic visual waiting to be rejoiced. The cold and the daylight (or the delay/absence of it) don't help either. All in all, it's a continent of idyllic leisure, if you ask me. But I am typing this with my fingers dipped in privilege, I'm aware. For, I've been walking, sucking in the good-AQI air, sipping coffee & beer here & there, walking again, and trying not to remember my life back home. That's been the theme.

Back to it: the Eiffel was breathtaking at nightfall. As ordinary as it looked during day, it acquired a glory rivaled by few, at night. Swathi was thrilled, like most women inexplicably feel at the tower's sight. It was pleasant around the neighborhood. We walked after the customary pictures.

Back to the hotel, we were welcomed by the 'closed' sign at the Marriott's restaurant. Walk again, and we landed at a Tibetian restaurant. We found the base dishes of what we wanted but we were struggling to explain 'how' we wanted what we wanted, to the lady at the counter; and then comes Zikma to the fore. He studied Buddhist Philosophy at Varanasi for 12 years, who had once emigrated to India from Tibet, before he slunk himself into France illicitly. Spoke to us in Hindi as we expect a Tibetian would speak, but boy, the words fell like notes on the piano. After he tossed & made fried rice to our Indian liking, he sent us back with a story of his homecoming that's been due for 26 years. He smiled that he sees his parents on video calls, though. 

P.S: Mosa Lisa was just whelming. Not over, not under. 

Day 3: 12-Oct-2026

Normandy

This was the day I had been looking forward to the most ever since the trip had started taking shape. Imagine a handful of zealous men. They led countries, commanded armies, and surmounted seas. And yet, their greed transcended the realm of human v inhuman. And they caused wars. Ones that shaped the world we live in. In the process, millions lost lives. Most of them kissed goodbyes to their loved. Many of them did so for the last time. Before fighting wars they didn't start. 

Each name embossed had a story of an unreturning son, a moved-on spouse, a broken father, and an unresolved grief as its honorifics and postnominals. 

It was too pleasant for a cemetery where 9389 soldiers were buried. Blame my privilege for having unwittingly spotted the 'niceness' of the place. A sombre outing. 

There's not much to talk about today, except for how a Hungarian tour guide lamented about fake cigarettes in France, at 6.00 in the morning. 

Day 4: 13-Oct-2026

Pârïs Again

Alright. Slept well. At a hotel in Montmartre with slightly shady alley leading up to the hotel. What opened up in the hotel after pulling up was a nice surprise. An upscale hotel in the bohemian Parisian neighborhood. There's a tension felt by most Asians, I guess, at the check-in/concierge counters at hotels in the West. A faceoff point of cultures and invisible one-upmanship battles between unwise hagglers. One general upside of not-unhealthy mental ageing is social insecurities perishing. I am much less insecure now. And it's fun to put the other person of a perceived fairer race on a spot, with a request or something - ask them for something tricky, disarm them, see their superiority advance to their forehead, disarm it with a compliment, dart a question sounding like a compliment, say thanks in 2 languages, and walk away without hearing them out saying the cab's speeding away. Just a no-harm-intended fun. 

A lot of walking today. Covered a few spots Instagram algorithm reminded my wife to not miss. Most of them lived up to the visual pleasantness Instagram promised. Say, the Bibliotheque Nationale  or the Arc dé Triomphe, and the likes.

The vain me tried shopping shoes at the Galleries Lafayette but I realized I am not wealthy yet. I will come back. Speaking of vanity, it's such a fashionable country with people of all genders, ages, and walks being impeccably dressed. The climate supports it. So does the culture, and its outdoorsy attitude. Fashion capital for a bloody good reason. From waiters in cafés to drivers to corporate honchos to sports coaches.

I type this as we're minutes away from Zürich's train station.

Next stop: Switzerland. A country whose ice mountains looked so inconquerably far & otherworldly, that when someone gifted me a New Year greeting card with an Alps' picture - that made me wonder & feel wistful instantly. This was in the mid 90s. 

14th has Zürich in it. Along with Rhine Falls in it. Hopefully a lot of walking, coffee, and beer at the end of it. Before 15th brings some icy adventure with it. 

Will come back to this space.  

Europe Diary 2026: 10-Oct - Brussels --> Paris

 Day 1: 9-Oct-2026

Arrived at Warsaw from Delhi, by midday. The small, cosy airport resembles the city's smallness, an Italian coffee-drinker on the next table remarked, planting his earphones back into their pod as an act of politeness to my courteous nod when our eyes met.

2 Heinekens (I) and 2 cappuccinos (Swathi) later, we found ourselves en route to Brussels. As the flight soared, I peeked into the window to find what's a rare sight for an Indian who travels domestically: large, sweeping tracts of greenness, well manicured and well apportioned. The latter both plague an aspirational Indian's thoughts - for a homeland that looks well from above & within. 

Brussels - A neat city that borders on looking abandoned, strange for a European city on a weekend night. People look at you, and express a ready sorriness of looking at you without your permission. All in their eyes. All in that fleeting second of passing by. As opposed to the 2 extremes we are experts of: either disregard the passerby with utter dismiss or stare them down attributing incrimination. 

A decent Indian meal at Rangla Punjab brought the day to a close, but not before observing why the Indian attendant was inexplicably rude & loud to us. Was there some immigrant guilt he was forcing us to share with him? How would he have known that we're not patriotic people? For, what more allegiance can triumph over our loyalty to capitalism?

Day 2: 10-Oct-2026

An obscenely early time to wake up, so that we can sleep in Paris tonight. So chained am I to the idea of 'vanity in traveling' that we have more than 1 suitcases each to lug around. Our Indian knuckles (bestfriends of sweat, heat, and dust) are beginning to say hello to cold. Swathi has a run-in with a French concierge man, as she requests him if he can help us print our train tickets. It is too early for a Frenchman to comply sweetly. And he is French enough to point out the same. I try charming him with my perfunctory smile. It works, and he smiles back. A win for my face's Jack Nicholsonesque reputation. 

We're here at the Brussels-Midi train station, well ahead of the train's departure time. The morning's slowly showing its true colours. Coupled with cold. English isn't received kindly. And the private-run train service is an apparition no one's heard of. 

We are pumping enough caffeine into our bodies to battle the cold, and the cruelty of cultural chasm. The views all around are a help though. Easy on the eyes. And, the cafés are universally lifesaving. They're accommodative, without a glint of neophobia. I'm on my 3rd cup of coffee as I type this, and the black-dressed Frenchman smiles as warmly as the coffee is. 

The bus-ride to Paris is 40 minutes from now. I am looking forward to ingesting myself with pleasing visuals of the European countryside. From amid the warm confines of a bus that doesn't honk. 

A thought cloud begins taking shape, about Paris. For all its broadcasted beauty, fragrance, and notoriety. 

Will come back to this space. 

   

This darned thing called Life

 I open X after 2 hours of an intense task at work, to get my periodic dopamine fix. I read this tweet/post that talks about how fast time whooshes by when you're compelled to do something you don't particularly enjoy, say, work. And, I catch myself wondering how the hell it's already August!

 

2 more hours pass after I return to work. The tweet continues swirling in my brain, poking at every corner it whizzes past. This is like the inverse of leaving everything you find in a better shape than you found it. The tweet does the damage to my brain that's been in overdrive for weeks.

 

I pause and catch myself thinking about times when work was a mere component in our lives before becoming our all-consuming identity. At least, for most of us. [I still know a few folk who resisted the corporate tradeoff, and it seems they knew exactly what they were choosing].

 

Anyway, there's a dull, droning psychological malaise all around us. People are generally unhappy with their lives. So, they choose to pepper social conversations with carefully-inserted details that elevate them above their peers. Except, such peppering is most times unsavory.

 

I was once that person. I thank the general ageing of my mind for coming to its senses before I got sentenced to being a phony for the rest of my life. It's stunning to witness the acts people put up to impress people they don't particularly like. I did that too. Boy, was it so tiring. I only realized how tiring it was after I stopped.

 

Is baring one's self to everyday life and its contours freeing? I don't think. It has its own nuisances to bring.

 

Cutting to my life, there's a long-due European vacation that starts 2 months from now. Barring the 3-day whirlwind of a Japan trip in 2025, I haven't taken a vacation in 2 years. Given how 'undeserving' I've felt of 'nice things' for most of my life (thanks to the passed-down, unwittingly keyed-in insecurities), this is a vacation I've damn-well earned and am looking forward to with a childlike anticipation.

 

Since it's been a while since I last put pen to paper, it is not unwarranted to jog your (the rare reader of this blog) memory about my chronically-skeptical self. It's the same person with same insecurities, anxieties, and yes - the occasional good things too. Except, all measured & managed a bit better, with 'restraint' being the underlying theme of it all.

 

It's both sobering and disillusioning when you realize that the 'magical tomorrow' never comes. For me, it's forced me to worship the cliché: enjoy (or try to) the journey/process/blah. I try to meet the optimum markers, and leave the rest to the indifference of it all.

 

For what is this darned thing called Life? I've never understood it. But there are a few nice things in it I don't dislike. 

Being Friendless and Other Stuff

 Truly at midlife. I am not sure what to feel about where I am at this juncture. But, one feeling stands pronounced: "Friendless." Given how it all (growing up) started about 17-18 yrs ago, I had always thought I'd be socially wealthy. Sure, I've burnt a few bridges along the way, but who hasn't? Finding myself practically friendless right at my midlife juncture is something I'd never thought of, or worried about. And, here I am. 

It's interesting how my personality is trying to bob away to the other end of the pendulum. I've been quite a private person for the last 10 years. Not by force, but by organic choice. My abhorrence for 'small talk' has done its job far too well. [For the first time, I've looked at my watch twice by the time I finish this 2nd paragraph]

Now I'm making voluntary efforts to indulge in harmless, yet patience-demanding small talk. At airports, the gym, the cafe I frequent, etc. The fact that it's going to get increasingly difficult to cultivate new, meaningful friendships with each passing year, is unsettling me. 

I've come to believe in the philosophy that it needs hard-work to be able to enjoy finer pleasures in life. The persistence to endure a couple of stage-setting chapters, to power through a few mood-building episodes or the discipline of living cleanly to live well, look well, feel well, and age well. And yet, I falter. But, I don't want to. To waste years in faltering & wobbling - only to reminisce this time wistfully a few years later.

I've got this gnawing feeling somewhere deep inside my stomach that this decent run I've been having for the last few years -- is all going to come crashing for some inexplicable reason. The rationalist in me reasons that it all depends on how I act. The irrational pessimist in me refuses to nod & agree. 

I know the importance of living mindfully. But, events come by and compel me to react, at least in thought. I more often than not react. I try to right the ship for events to not adversely affect the next ones, but its price is mindfulness. Perhaps, I have to extricate action from 'thought' to get there, but hey, a man can fall and try, right?

The pit I had once thrown myself into was so deep that it took ambition, not progress, to crawl out of it and make even with others. But now, I've discovered traces of ambition for a net positive future. But me being me, I am not sure how much the ambition will hold up. Again, a man can try, can't he?

My psychological need to splurge on proverbial perishables to keep proving to myself that I am not  deprived anymore - has finally subsided. I now don't buy often. I don't buy needlessly. I buy good stuff, with moderation & unforced restraint. 

I remember tweeting this:Who knew efforts to rediscover the ability to wonder at smallest of things would come to be a part of my goals?

That about sums it up.