It has been six months since I’ve visited this blog. And yet, it only seems like six weeks. Time has been flying incredibly fast. The routine of daily work, from going to the court, doing my boring call work, recording evidence which repeats like a century-old song, and giving judgments relying on my intuition by pretending to appreciate evidence which is almost entirely denied suggestions. This has been my life for the last several months. Never did I get the time to take a break and contemplate on what has been going on. When I get the time to do it, I prefer scrolling some reels on Instagram to burn my time away.

Weekends do not seem like weekends anymore. For the last two months, I have been summoned and assigned some work or the other. On the last weekend, I was called for the anchoring job at a National Judicial Academy conference. Sure, it had some big shots — a few Supreme Court judges, Chief Justices of High Courts, and some forty judges of High Courts from many States. But my job was simply to prepare a script, stand at the podium, and recite it. It was only to smoothen the process of people ascending and descending the stage, starting and ending the sessions, and pushing people to have lunch and tea. The speeches that I heard for two long days were unexpectedly uninspiring, so much so that I preferred my own anchoring script over the idealist sermons that everyone else delivered.

And here I am. At 3 AM. Sitting in the dark on my bed. Alone in the house, as I see the rain through my window. With only this laptop’s light glaring at me. Typing away each sentence, wondering what I am actually thinking. Only if I could use ChatGPT to read my mind and tell me what my thoughts are.

Is the end of March really a time when we should be witnessing rains? While the petrichor smell is soothing, these thunderstorms threaten the harvest of my favourite fruit — mango. Or is that no longer my favourite fruit? I have begun to prefer apples these days. Especially the Pink Lady apples. I am craving one as I talk about it. With a perfect balance of crunch, density, tartness, and juiciness, these apples leave me desiring more. Each bite has a sound that can be appreciated only when it’s heard.

I start my day with two of these apples. And the rest of the day is the same as any other day. The judicial work has become too repetitive. The markets collapsed, and the mutual funds plunge. The Levant weeps, and Persia struggles to survive. There’s hate all around, and love has shrunk. There’s so much to write, but such little patience. My poor attention span wants this blog post to end here. And I don’t have the grit to fight it. Let this blog post bear witness to my unmoored and disquieted mind.

I’ll do better next time!