For all my alleged computer-savvy, I prefer sitting in a cafe' with a pen and notebook when I'm writing.
At least thrice in the last month, I have angrily scribbled long passages, jotting down my frustrations and wanting to know answers. But each time, my pen just falls silent from the sheer depressing nature of my words.
Seeing the unabashed bigotry, censorship and raging intolerance in my country has always been disheartening, but recently I've begun feeling the same sense of hopelessness that many people had warned me of before.
I've actually begun avoiding the local news to avoid the constant stream of boiling bullshit. I've tried writing about these things.. but it's just too disappointing. I'm beginning to think that if the Maldives wants to burn, let it burn. I'll just fiddle.
And yet, the burnt and broken SAARC monuments in Addu, the crass response to a well-intentioned speech by the UN Human Rights Chief, and the million-idiots march scheduled for later this month... all beget the question: how low can we stoop as a nation?
I often ask this question. But now I realize I don't really want to hear the answer.
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