The SUN and the SEA beckons

The cold-waves doing their rounds in making Delhi winters chillier than ever; the lazy sleepy sun who seems to peep out of the sky not out of willingness but as an obligation to mark its daily attendance; loading yourself with layers of thick woollens making your 'to-die-for' figure and 'sense of style' sink rapidly below zero-level (no, those hot micro-minis with leggings and pointy-boots don't keep you warm enough); the zest to go out and do so many things that could have been done during the whole day only if you could've managed to drag yourself out of that cozy mink blanket in the morning; the same old boring job; the same ol' faces that you see day in and day out; the urgency to invest your hard-earned money into all kinds of tax-saving plans and policies; the oh-so-irresistable 'end-of-winter-sale' all over the city when you feel like buying everything but cannot (remember? those bonds, insurance policies and provident-funds to secure your future); all your dearest friends either on a long vacation or just caught up with their share of mundane jobs... just name it and believe me, just about anything can be reason enough for me to hate the winters. I am anything but a winter person. The winters depress me to no end and I'm at my gloomiest, moodiest and crankiest best (read worst). I generally try to retain my saneness by escaping to the seaside and soaking in some sun to rejuvenate myself in the winters. But unfortunately, I could not manage to escape to Goa (my favourite destination) for this last Christmas and New Year's. So you can imagine, I have been at my snappiest best at the slightest of provocation, to anyone who had dared to try any of their wisecracks anywhere around my close proximity.
After shouting at the office-transporters for their consistent inefficiency, snapping at about 50% of my colleagues from the team and then profusely apologising for being rude to them for no reasonable reason, first trying to convince my boss then confusing him to the extent of him approving 10 days of paid leaves for me (of-course with sufficient amount of emotional drama and also managing to shed a few crocodile tears... a la Bollywood ishtyle), giving the office tax-consultant a piece of mind for wrong tax-deduction from my salary, and being enquired by a third guy-friend if I am about to have my periods for such foul mood-swings, I am finally leaving for my favourite destination tomorrow early morning to get myself plenty of fresh coastal air, to catch on a lovely tan and to devour my favourite sea-food-cusines and to get sloshed with all those intoxicating port-wines. A week of carefree hippie-life with no connectivity with the rest of the world... a time when I can paint myself all over with the exquisite colours of the carnival... to be with people who are complete strangers but ones who make me feel I belong. For only by doing so, I know, I will be at peace with myself. My beloved beckons and I have to go... for old times' sake... for heavens' sake... and for everybody elses' sake. Amen!