Deepavali is tomorrow. And personally, I’m too tired to care.

I’m tired of trying to finish everything on time, of the ever-mounting work, of those small details that seem to mysteriously crop up. I’m not tired of the painting and the washing and the mopping. I’m tired of the little instances. The small things that has to be done repeatedly. I’m tired of just gritting my teeth and pushing on, when all I want to do is slam everything down and shout and get everything out of my chest.

I’m tired of trying to understand his mentality, his way of thinking. I’m tired of trying to justify whatever mistakes he makes by saying “He’s my father. I respect him.” I’m tired of the shoutings and the warnings and the ultimatums. I’m tired of trying to find out what kind of Indian I am, why I am the way I am, why I reject the Indian norms, ignoring the jeers and the insults of being a black-assed foreigner, of being so-called “embarassed of our Indian cultures and values”.

I’m tired.