Sorry. No, really. Sorry.

I know, I know.
It's been ages.
More than a month, and what little there is of my loyal readership is greviously disappointed.
"How can he do this?" they moan, and wring their h. in d.
Every day (or so they tell me) they log on and eagerly check for updates, and everyday they have to face the stark truth.
Kulkarni, that lazy slacker, that fat so and so, that Billy Bunter of bloggers, is doing what he does best.
He's doing nothing.

Pshaw. Pah. And other words, similar in spirit, that begin with p.

For up his rather capacious sleeve, Kulkarni hides some aces. For the past week or so, he has been chilling in Pune. Taking a well deserved break from Excel and it's charting capabilities, and from the many splendored joys of Namma Bengaluru.
But not, me hearties, from blogging. He has built up, in the somnolent afternoons and the increasingly stuffy nights, a squirrel's reserve of blogs, which he shall reveal upon going back to his South Indian abode.
Promise.
Wait with baited breath then, dear readers, as you have thus far. But this time, with a small spark of the reawakening, with a faint sighting of the light that may lie at the end of the tunnel, and with the last remaining resident of Pandora's dabba for company.

And really. Sorry.