Monsoon is the best season in India. Summers are excrusiating, winters mild and unremarkable, while spring disappears before you can say spring. Monsoon defines India. The season has romance. The breeze is cool and strong, and rains are always welcome. Alas, this time around I haven't been able to enjoy monsoons at all due to my ankle injury. And to think of it, this might be my last monsoons for some time to come. What a thought! But other countries would have their own special seasons. South east Asia also has its monsoons. Can they also tug as strongly on the heart strings?

I have always suffered from a propensity to over analyze. Given sufficient time, i can analyze anything ad nauseam. Why? I don't know. Thats not a good enough answer though. May be because I don't like uncertainty.

Another thing, people don't believe me. The general perception is that there's always more about me than what meets the eye. I have no idea where this comes from. In the begiining, this aura of cleverness was mildy ego-boosting but now its become a crisis. The constant knowledge that people suspect that you are not being your true self is both amusing and worrisome. Amusing because its so far from truth. Worrisome because it clearly points to a personality trait, since so many people think the same, including my parents, I suspect. Add to it the fact that I, on mu part, am very gullible. Perfect combo.