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That makes no sense... to me...but for the world, it does.

That makes no sense... to me...but for the world, it does.

What makes sense? A complete sense?

If you ask me, i’d say, Why would an ice cube melt along with the water it is kept in just to make the water colder in this hot and heating Aurangabad? Well, a little context about where i am right now 

Its about 9pm hot and dry, and to come this from a Goan boy who has seen the hottest summers throughout his life is indeed a big deal. I can feel the heat rising from my keyboard as it touches my fingers. I hope I have the spellings correct; I often make mistakes, but it does not really matter. I am playing Hans Zimer's classic collection from Intersteallar to heighten the tension. The only lights in my room are some Christmas-style fairy lights hanging along the frame of the one and only window in front of me. Other than that, the room is dimly lit. I find great satisfaction in the fact that I can hardly see the letters on this keyboard. Unwanted or needless hardships have always been a part of my life, and darkness has always been my friend—it depletes me to the point where I feel energized. It really should not make sense, so I am not sure if it does. One more time I mention making sense, and I'll just stop this blog post. Nah,  I won't do that. I will do whatever I want. 


That was for my noisy air cooler, the only device that is keeping me alive, and of course my phone—actually, ‘phone calls'—to my friends, my mom, my father, and my boss—how can I forget him—the person who adds extra heating degrees to my life, always and forever. You know when they say the temperature is 39 degrees and it feels like 40 degrees? Well, for me, that feeling is actually given by my boos. Makes senses? Come on, you know the drill by now—there are no rules in this blog; it’s just me with me, and if you read along, it’s you and me. So, is this blog going to make any sense? I am sure it will! Hang in there. If you have been here so far, you better continue. wewkehqwie dfgergIgnore the last few words. I was trying to wipe out the precipitated water drops that landed on my keyboard while having a sip of that melted ice water. I just used my tshrt to wipe off the water and accidentally typed or scribbled rubbish.

You know, this morning I went to a place called Beed, and it's a small town. I had some work to do and had to meet a trade partner. The journey was quite long, 120km one way, but the roads were beautiful, and on my way back home, I looked around. Across the mountains that surrounded my roads, there were a lot of windmills, standing with their group, tall and rigid and white and sharp. But they all weren't moving; some were. lucky enough to face the direction of the wind and were moving along, happy and useful, but the others waited for their turn. I wish I could just park my car and run towards them and turn them with my fingers like we used to do as kids—we made those paper windmills and blew across them. They all had different colored wings; wonder why they don't paint the giant ones in different colors? Well, I know the reason. What if they were painted in different colors, and eventually, when they are rotating at full speed, they would look white! That is the reason they are just kept that way. Why waste color on something that eventually will become nothing? Hmmm, deep, isn't it?

Well, what if I say I am the windmill, which is standing tall and idle and useless, facing the wind completely in the wrong direction? My group is happy for me for being there with me; even I am happy for being there with them; in fact, I can see my other mates rotating freely and making something useful out of them. Maybe I need someone to just come running towards me and turn me in the right direction so that even I can rotate. 

I think the windmill is looking at me with some hope. I think it wants me to turn it around and make it useful. I think I should take breaks and at least try. - come on- try- No way- How can you even rotate the windmill? Do you know its size? Are you crazy? Just one try - let me run towards it- at least show a glimpse of hope- be it for a brief moment—at least the windmill will feel happy - it will sense some incoming help. Yes,I have made up my mind, - I am going to do it.

The windmill needs help, and right now, it’s just me who can help. 

Thud - I come out of my car- The scorching heat is piercing through my 5 hour old sunscreen layer- It’s useless now. - you are anyway out here- out in the open- Focus on your only task- The windmill doesn't look that far- You can run along the field and make it happen- Maybe you want to fasten your formal shoes- or keep them in the car. - fold your sleeves. Maybe you wear a cap? Oh you dont have one. - drink some water atleast-

Gulp, gulp, gulp

Ah, what a relief! I could feel the drops of water slowly entering my eusophagus and going down in my guts- I am sure I didn't get that spelling right either. Stretch a bit - focus - focus - focus.

Tring tring 

Trong tring

Tring tring 

Adarsh, where are you? I heard that voice through the other side of my phone - 

Ssss Sssss siiiiir on my way.

Come fast to the office - 

Though it’s 2pm it feels like Hell.

Ig I would never know if the windmill will work again. I hope it does…  I hope it finds some help.

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