Jan 2 2008: i wake up to the undulating vibrations of my body and carlos santana's sexy voice singing out I could change my life to better suit your, Cause you´re so smooth and disgruntled noises from strangers who were disturbed by the sudden burst of sound. it was 7 am and my birthday and i already had someone calling me to wish. there is one thing about birthdays which i never did understand, why is everyone else more excited about your birthday than you yourself. anyways with the cheery caller's call getting disconnected midway, finally the new year dawned on me and that left a smile on my face. i am on the train, on my birthday with strangers who don't give a fuck about me and my birthday. a morbid start, couldn't get better.

may 8 2008: convocation. i graduate second division from asian college of journalism. i spend most of the evening outside the auditorium puffing away. they call my name and i climb the stage to collect my certificate. there was a smirk on my face. i was thinking, 'this is probably the biggest joke of my life. the entrance exam was one, the interview was a bigger one and then everything about the course.' i look around my class mates all excited about their new jobs as if armed to conquer the world and set up their idealistic utopia. i smirked at them, the strange people who i never bothered to know or understand but always felt amusing and unusually drawn. 'who wants to be journalist. i defied the system yet again and have completed a feat which i am never going to take seriously' was what the little voice that gloated inside me. i couldn't have been more wrong.

june 2: tiny lights have decorated the entire range. the cold is slowly seeping through my skin the spirits in my body are trying to resist it. i lazily observe the swirl of smoke that is coming out of my mouth. i am aware of nothing around me. somewhere in the distance i hear, 'i love u, i really love u' and then another voice 'is she saying i love u' i reply back 'i guess so' and go back to my lighted candy. next day sitting on a log and sipping black coffee made bright end corner the virgin paradise and the dehydration, the clamour in the head, the company, the conversation most beautiful.

july 20: education loan for university of glasgow got sanctioned. an eerie feeling that convinced me i am not going. the same morbid and cold hand that clutches my heart whenever goodness tries of invade.

august 20: i am frying the 7th fish, one more to go. i still have to make the rotis, 25 of them, some small and soft, some with butter and others irrelevant. my father walks in and says 'fry it deeper. its not cooked properly.' i look at him and imagined aiming all the fishes at him and that is when it flashed what does bottomless pit mean. i plan my escape.

sept 10: unfamiliar room, a new bed, strange pillows and sheet, unaccustomed snores, pack on the table is empty and but the thick smoke is still looming in the room. sight is hazy, thoughts are hazy and i experienced a free fall and a heightened feeling of depreciation. i have never been so much under control yet dangerous out of control all at the same time. i liked it and hated it. i told myself 'i am never doing it again' and somehow knew deep down i was sure that the euphoria will come back.

sept 27: the blaring incoherent song inside auto is quite distracting. its the third day of durga puja. i vowed, 'if i dont get the job, i am not visiting ma durga. i have a right to be mad.' five months of unemployment, 1000 bucks left in the bank and a pride that will not go back and ask money from father and forlorn feeling of missing the ma durga's face for the first time. i sit facing the RE trying very hard to restraint myself, 'maza aa raha hain na. kaam karoge na at least ek saal tak?' i squeak 'yes sir' and smugly thought, 'so you had to drag me to your festivities' and silently thank her. and i became a journalist.

oct15: i am standing on the platform and quickly scanned the crowd. i immediately spot her in khaki uniform, hair tightly secure in a bun and a useless metal detector. hundreds of people are coming and going out. she sits in the corner with a nonchalant air. i approach her and ask her if i can talk to her for sometime and tell her where i am from. she offers me her seat, gets me a steaming cup of coffee and after our half an hour talk, i realised what i am supposed to do as a journalist. it was humbling.

dec 30: i am sitting on the floor. typing away furiously on my laptop. i look back at the year and recalled the words of a wise man, 'life is like that. what to do.'