Last Post before Travelling to the Conference in Arunachal Pradesh

The opportunity cost of being an academician is too high for an idealistic soul (I'm not advocating my own self, don't even imagine it). For example, you feel like an idle something in the middle of a sadistic nowhere, not functioning, chained to an extent that you'll suffocate and succumb to your own wounds. It doesn't just let you be happy on any note anywhere anymore. And no matter how superficial it might feel on the surface, we're a bunch of wanderers making a fool of ourselves, operating within a system that will never allow freedom of speech in forms of language that can be easily absorbed. No matter what you do, you'll always feel a snowflake sneaking under the sleeve of your comforter, tickling your spine every now and then, asking you too many questions. 
I've observed this one truth about crowds. They have a certain pattern of anonymity attached to their intrinsic value. The goal is tipping off the bigger bait while one's fishing in the human pond of amenity and value judgement. It seldom scares you. It only makes you feel like..."I've got wild staring eye/And I've got a strong urge to fly/But I got nowhere to fly to..." The storm somewhere, is earnestly brewing right now. You seem to feel it, understand the notes in its essence, understand the paltry, useless, cliche crisis of hunger and choose to go on understanding furthermore. The era of questions has quenched our thirst with an urge to eternally go on consuming instead - consuming time, consuming space and whatever comes in between. 

(Photograph Source) 

On the top of deep realisations that nonetheless never affect the shiny presentations I deal with, it's the seasonal affecting disorder period of the year and even physical labour doesn't effectively curb the pain down. I still am travelling to a certain land where people have been suffering for more than I will ever be capable of pragmatically realising, more than I'll possibly experience practically, more than I will ever be able to put words into a charismatic article. I am definitely not sorry. I still will never get over the obsession with fine grades, valued opinions, organised debates, corporate presentations, targeted motives, the glamour of it all.
The famine in Yemen or Bolsonaro slaughtering indigenous tribes in Brazil, erasing the rainforest, the people shooting Avni, devastating the Sunderbans or the alienation of the ones who were the most important at this hour. May nothing ever suffice anything on our behalf. But seldom, on this planet, in times as apocalyptic as now, you still need voices and means to write and accept that it isn't okay. For as much as you feel like abstaining from the crisis right now,get hold of means to express it. More than anything else, they've begun fearing organic communication in any level.