Three. Tres. Troix.

Back in Chennai. The land of heat, dust and hypocrites. Yes, I am in a foul mood. Who wouldn't be, having had moronic auto-rickshaw drivers for breakfast? But its good to be back. New Year's Eve beckons. So does solitude. This is gonna be the second New Year in a row that I'll spend with myself. Time to think, reflect and plan. Yeah, right. It's a drag.

Maybe I'll just keep listening to Nirvana, and wondering whether India will win the Sydney Test. Maybe I won't. I don't know. I really need company even to do that. The splendid gift of speech is quite a bane at times. We have to keep up the pretence of upholding the art of conversation, even when we don't really know how. Unfortunately, we always want to. That is the sad part.

Why do we have a New Year's Day anyhow? And assuming we've answered that, why is it celebrated? Just another day in the three hundred and sixty five and a quarter that our world takes to orbit the star Sol. No big deal, you'd think. And yet, every culture across the globe celebrates New Year on some day. Funny. From what I've seen of Hollywood movies, a New Year's Eve party is about tons of people getting drunk in Times Square, and kissing each other on the stroke of midnight. Again, not much different from the gazillions of parties that go on throughout the globe every night in clubs and discos. Except that people are drunk for no reason then. Does the welcoming of a New Year (note the capitals) give us the license to behave like fools? Or is it just an excuse to release our baser, primal instincts? Yeah, like we need an excuse.

Answer, that, bloggers !!