Winter

I haven’t left the building. Had only been hiding, not knowing what to really say or write. I saw the Mumbai attacks on TV; was horrified and tongue tied. What could I possibly say here on this small blog without really trivializing the whole sordid deed in some way, I thought. I am no public policy pundit or a security expert or a journalist. What could I possibly say that would affect the outcome of what followed? I could not sleep for a few nights. I was jittery, perplexed, trying to internalize the whole affair through snippets of conflicting information from news sources and family back in Mumbai. Too many questions, too few answers. Too many what ifs. Too many buts. Too many too manys.

This is a winter of wrath. No doubt. Wrath of the terrorists and the wrath against them. Wrath against the blasé Indian intelligence and the flaccid politicians. Wrath against the banks of Wall Street, wrath against the foolish homeowners who bought more than they could possibly afford. Wrath against the car industry, wrath against the lost jobs. And exasperation. Like gray sky outside that casts its dreary glow everywhere, the attack, the downturn has cast a dull, depressing shadow everywhere. Holidays are almost here, but they seem so far away. The icicle lights not as bright, the holiday songs jaded and forced. Uncertainty hangs in the air like the sword of Damocles. Fear lurks around the corner, waiting to pounce on its newest, unsuspecting prey. Like the milky fog I see rising from the river I must cross twice each day, the vagueness of our times veil what lies ahead. And I wait with millions others around me wondering what I can do to lift it and ask if there is a bend ahead somewhere towards sunnier times.