Flicker, then be blown out

The world's most livable city goes from garden to grave. The best doubles pair in tennis splits up and breaks a billion hearts. Pink Floyd cassettes are re-released at 35 bucks higher and the lyrics booklets conveniently forgotten. The ice cream place two blocks away gives in to competition decides to call it a day. A charming hotel becomes a mall so grotesque. A quality sports magazine goes tabloid and sells its soul. Music channels on the rise bite the dust in a Bhangra Sandstorm. The world's best batsman is consumed by injuries and rendered mortal. A narrative wildlife show of yesteryear is condensed to a crappy interactive educational CD. Flexi-timings in college are stamped out, year after year. A trio of memorable theaters are now abandoned wrecks. A mind-boggling music store inexplicably vanishes. The original reality show with a bald guy in a maze is succeeded by lousy American ones and their Indian counterparts. Classy cola ads give way to tripe with mudslinging being the sole motivation. A remotely interesting syllabus is deemed not 'educational' enough and changed. A cartoon channel goes new age and compromises on humour and animation. Wrestling goes from sport to soap opera. Even cheap bookstores start deciding comics are for the elite. An amazing prof feels his teaching interests lie elsewhere. Endearing folks come and go. The streets are full but I feel alone...

Reality bites. The good shall die young and the not-so-good shall inherit the earth. The above is a random list of gripes I've had to live with, watching a part of me disappear all the time. Part contemplation, part resignation. Maybe it has the trappings of a shamelessly negative mind wallowing in the past, conveniently leaving out the rest of the story, the bright spots. But all this has spanned more than a decade of decadence. And that's long enough, isn't it? Extinction is forever.