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...And blog. Notes to self, yeah. So much has been happening of late that it seems like I'm always way over the speed limit. It's a sort of surreal feeling, like I'm living someone else's life...but at the same time, it's all so ordinary.

Twenty-ten has been an eclectic mix of work and experience, fun and laughter. And to think it's only been two months since it began! Would it be asking too much to hope that this has set the tone for the rest of the year? Because I'm about to take some chances. I once heard someone say that if you want big rewards from life, take big risks. Every time I can't make up my mind, these words float into my mind. And so far, they've done only good.

January was dull enough, till the much anticipated trip to Jaipur. Being the first proper trip I've ever been on with friends, I couldn't have asked for a better time. It seems as though we laughed enough to last us the whole year, and learned enough too! The Jaipur Literary Festival was a bookworm's delight, dizzying both my intellect and my camera. Calling it colorful would certainly be an understatement. Listening to eminent figures like Gulzar, Shabana Azmi and Wole Soyinka was enchanting and exhilarating. Add to it riveting French music (Titi Robin), lunch and dinner all over the city, a visit to Amer with a digital camera, and a bunch of giggly girls who exist on the same wavelength, and there you have it.

The weekend after was the LSR MUN, which I thought had been my best thus far. Sitting in the press room isn't half so bad when you have a co-editor who can complete your sentences, type your thoughts, sing your favorite old songs with you and babble in French. Glossy newsletters and an extravagant budget notwithstanding, the work this time gave me pride and satisfaction...and led to a major hollow hangover-ness. Which could only be cured, I was sure, by another MUN. And BITS Pilani beckoned.

Projects and parents stood in the way, friends canceled and ditched at the last minute, my mind bordered on despair and my Facebook status read "crash". But, as a wise senior and former co-editor put it, who was I to doubt the desires of Fate? Everything fell into place once I nodded my head (did I click my fingers too?) and I found myself sleep-deprived and a little lonely amongst a sea of familiar faces, in a broken-down, (one) window pane-less bus headed to the desert.

Arriving at 2.30 am in a strange land can be disconcerting enough but there's nothing a warm hug from an old friend won't cure. That night, as my head hit the pillow for a few hours of snatched sleep in my friend's room, I knew that tiredness was making me pessimistic. And I wasn't sure the risk was going to be worth it. But the next three days were two more than I needed to reassure myself. Who knew that (not) working could be so much fun when you didn't have deadlines or curfews? I tasted, smelt, drank the freedom; for three days were all I had.
And now that it's over, life seems rather colorless. Even as the fun continues without me, I've removed myself from the after-party. I have things to do.