Bolpur, and how i am

i went to my mamar bari on friday morning. i didn't want to go. there are many reasons why. but my mother wanted to go. she was entirely right in her reasons for the visit - i only wish she hadn't made me go with her as well, or had picked any other time for going. i would have preferred to stay in calcutta for christmas. i would have preferred to stay in calcutta, period. but then, i went.
it wasn't all that bad. i hung out with one of my cousins after a long time - we used to be very close a few years back, and we aren't any longer - but this was like old times again, and that was nice. i met his girlfriend - she's quite nice. their families know about the 'affair' and will eventually marry them, i think - but i don't think that my cousin is entirely happy with the course of the relationship being so clearly defined. i mean, i'm sure that he wants to marry her eventually, and they will be reasonably happy together - but i don't think he's comfortable with the apparent-to-everyone inevitability of it. he's just six months older than me.
i paid a token visit to the poush mela yesterday, and was much caked with dust and lal maati. i saw dokra at the mela, and splurged. for myself, i have bought two hnaashulis, a couple of pairs of ear-rings, and a pendant. and some other little things for people. i'm rather broke now. i went up on the giant wheel after ages, and quite enjoyed the ride until the point when a kid in the basket next to mine started throwing up, and the vomit started splattering as it hit the seat. i missed being hit by the spray, but barely. i have rarely been gladder than when i got off the ride.
i went for midnight mass last night at makarampur. the pre-mass programme (which had goats as prizes), as well as the service itself was in santhali. i did not understand the language, but the experience was truly surreal, and i would not have been able to imagine being there had i not actually been there. my mother, my cousin, and i were three of the very few non-santhals there. hymns in santhali to the beat of the mridongo... it was strange, unfamiliar, and beautiful. very very beautiful.
i am unhappy tonight. the holiday blues catch up with me no matter how hard i try to be cheerful. i'm not sure why it happens this way. my life is pretty nice at the moment - apart from the odd examination or so, and the occasional craving for nicotine, i'm in a good way. and yet i feel awfully lonely at the moment. all around me people are either partying the night away, or sleeping peacefully. and i am sitting up at home - a bundle of emotions that have no cause, no explanation; wondering about things that have no meaning, no point. and it's not even like i want to be out and about. because i truly don't - carefree partying isn't quite my thing, and i tend to tire easily, and feel like a wet blanket about to descend on other people's merry-making. only, everytime a holiday comes around, i can't help but feel like wishing that i weren't me. it's the aloneness of it all that i can't stand. and at this moment, i don't even feel like analysing what i feel and trying to get to the bottom of whatever it is that i do feel. i could always blame it on watching too many movies about the holiday blues as my father was wont to blame my alleged yanky-isms on watching friends, i suppose.
i think i should go to sleep now. and hope that morning cheers me up. i'm glad to be home, though.
i hope i survive new year's eve.