India, Jan. 1 -- As in The Plague by Albert Camus, the epidemic stays, never goes away. Most of its deadly stuff stays embedded in the political and aesthetic unconscious of the mind- like brand new clothes inside ancient trunks. Unlike love in everyday life, or the lack of it, it never really says goodbye. Indeed, there is no goodbye ever in life or death. It's a kind of bonding and bondage- a human bondage.
In The Human Bondage, Somerset Maugham tells us that all protagonists in search for the meaning of life will never find it. Nor will the answers to the questions which stalk our eclectic beginnings of tortured self-discovery: why are we born, why should we die, what is the meaning of life.
Perhaps, as in the end, which is always and ...