At times I actually marvel at life around. There has to be something more to our days, than just the ennui of getting up every morning, brushing your teeth, eating, working, studying, hugging skin and cups of coffee, phone calls, monsoons, smiles, and goodnight kisses. It is said that all of us have singular purposes that we come to serve in this earth. But what rationale does the elderly mad woman who devotedly sits outside my complex have, apart from begging and ultimately perishing of hunger? Or what purpose does, say, the street dogs, your household cat, the crows in your windowsill or fireflies beside the lake have? For what and because of whom do they so continue their morose lives? At times, I feel like an empty vessel into which every moron fills, with his or her oddball stupidity. After two shrieks and one sigh, an unremitting orgasm called life does disturb with its mysteries and queerness. I have a ring of nothingness and uncertainty around my middle finger. And I know I’ll have to return back to it someday. And so will the mad woman, the street dog, your cat, the crow and my fireflies. Someday… Bhalo theko till then.