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From the desk of Vitasta
Dated: March 21st
Time: Irrelevant

I've been sitting here since yesterday morning, at this desk, staring at a report I'm trying to compose, formulate, cite with appropriate references, and I'm failing. I just can't concentrate on this bullshit. And I'm struggling to figure our exactly why. These are crucial times in the life of a Ph.D. aspirant, because the one thing this experience has taught me is that if I don't settle on a subject of research that fulfills my soul, I will not be able to do this, study and get a doctoral degree, and I really want one now that I have enrolled here, and I'm not even sure why IIT would even want me here. However,  I think I deserve a long study break. I want to expand my vocabulary and quote Shakespeare and Beckett, and glide high with the intellectual mafia. I only hope they glide!

Listen, lemme share some photographs of these recent field visits we have been going on as part of the first semester coursework that we need to finish.

And those, blog people, are images of Katkari tribal housing found scattered in villages in Raigad district, not very remotely located from Mumbai, the city of filthy dreams, and real estate. Now I really want these to be the focus on my research. I don't know why but I am drawn to them, everything about them make me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside 🥰

So, in comes the Pradhan Mantri Avas Yojana- Gramin Edition. And they're making these kind of houses. See below:

Soulless bloody things. Make me very upset. Especially that painted advertisement in the front. I want to do something about it, but I'm not sure where to start. I guess that's what a PhD is all about. Finding something you'd love to do, but having no idea what it is.  

Anyway, I guess I've just about exhausted all my free time daydreaming about these structures and I guess the structures of the universe. Today I've had a hazy day with a hazy atmosphere and hazy dreams, I've gone and done nothing of real significance, and I wonder if we as humans, everyday ordinary folk are really meant to do things of significance. Do we sing and dance and die for a cause close to our hearts, and then do those acts go on and change the world, the power junctions and orders, do they become the springs of rebellion against nations and oppressive government regimes, or are they forgotten, buried beneath a pile of fired clay bricks and constructed into buildings without any redemption. 

I don't know anything anymore. I don't even know why I'm still left here searching for answers while others around me have settled into comfortable life regimes. I don't know what it means to be alive anymore. What is this life anyway.

I'll come back here tomorrow and figure some more of this out.

Bombay. Love.