“ Except ye become as little children, except you can wake on your fiftieth birthday with the same forward-looking excitement and interest in life that you enjoyed when you were five, ye cannot enter the kingdom of God. One must not only die daily, but every day we must be born again. “
-- Sayers, Dorothy L.
Unlike many other Homo sapiens, I don’t fret when confronted with the number called age. I treat it the way it should be, like a plain number. A silly fact that’s used in filling forms and helps doctors to judge the metabolic stage of Homo sapiens. Once one forces one’s hesitant psyche to go beyond the numerical nitty-gritty, all’s left to one’s prerogative. In short, one’s as old as one believes to be.
A lot of Homo sapiens, which pretty much includes everyone who knows me, think that I am childish. Well, I admit to have always been in awe of children. The infectious enthusiasm, the relentless curiosity, the ability to switch from sorrow to joy in an instant, the ability to be happy rather than just wanting to be, the gift of sleeping without a worry in the world. There are a lot of weaknesses as well. Agreed. But then, why look for qualities one does not want to imbibe? So much for positive thinking.
But then, yes, it’s time I grew up.
Anyway, there’s a list of things that I desire to possess but have not acquired yet. It omits a lot of things I now consider frivolous but wanted some time back. I present it to assist those who intend to give me gifts on my 22nd birthday. Also, I’m not being a whiner. I know it’s better to count one’s blessings than otherwise but desire is what keeps us alive.
No matter what the circumstances be, whether it’s befitting or not, I’ll get the following for myself someday (said with the grit, confidence and awe-inspiring tone of Cinderella man or whatever).
The tip of an iceberg (no preference order):
-> a pair of good formal-shoes
-> an ipod
-> Playstation (3)
-> a violin
-> a PC/laptop with the best configuration
-> a watch
-> a cricket bat with two sets of wickets
-> a football
-> a tennis racket
-> two badminton racquets
-> a car with all state-of-the-art techno-gadgets
-> Happyness
-> my own cricket ground/ stadium/ whatever’s more viable
-> tuna spread
-> a cruise tour with Brittany Murphy
What I can no longer become (but wanted to, in chronological order):
-> Mathematician (first love: maths)
-> Magician
-> Cricketer (fast bowler)
-> Classical singer
-> Theater actor
-> NBA player
-> Tall...on second thoughts, lets make that taller (still some scope, the eternal optimist that I am)
P.S. I never wanted to become a super-hero, as most of young tween want to.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Peeeee Pee-pip
This one, like all other events, starts with the Big-Bang, or whichever way the Universe was created. (Why do people care anyway?) However, setting aside all the details I deem unnecessary, allow me to come straight to the point. Also, let me try and keep it short this time (no pun, no intention, not funny).
Homo sapiens of my college are required to waste 50 priceless summer vacation days to undergo summer training. Sahee, Lullee (not a sheep, not even a female Homo sapiens) and I (a resounding applause, accompanied by generous doses of catcalling and appreciative whistling by the front-row audience) got selected by SRF. After much contestation, Lullee was selected to be butchered in Bhiwadi. Sahee and I were placed in Gurgaon. So, it started on 14th of May, when I heard that sound for the first time.
On the first day, all we expected us to be forced to do was to get acquainted with the L’ affaires of the office and that is what we almost ended up doing. We got introduced to the technical staff, which has more than half a dozen alumni Homo sapiens from my college, and to some from the administration. Here’s my first impression; hard working Homo sapiens, nice and accommodating; HR Homo sapiens appear to have abnormally fast internal metabolisms; lunch’s good; though usually impassive, people start whistling and singing in the company bus. Towards the end of the first day, both of us were summoned by our training supervisor. So, we’ve to prepare design documents for distillation and heat transfer, which, would take loads of theoretical studying and sifting.
On the second day, our tables are assigned and this is where my ordeal begins. I get a table right in front of the floor entrance and all I get to hear all day long is “Peeeee Pee-pip”. Apparently, some SRF techno-freak decided to install access machines at every floor entrance….and nobody protested.
So, every time the machine’s used, which, gallingly, happens quite a lot, “Peeeee Pee-pip” rams its way through my ears and down the auditory canals to the tympanic membranes. Well, I know so much because I tried to find a solution to the problem by studying the whole hearing system. Anyway, I get to hear the sound when I’m about to sleep while studying, when I wake up, while I’m concentrating on the gargantuan work at hand, while having lunch and while all other nominal activities in between, which includes studying. What unnerves me even more is the fact that it can possibly attack my subconscious when I’m half-asleep, studying. I don’t want to become a pee-holic/peep-aholic/whatever. The only gratifying fact is that I’ll get an access card soon and can then, make the sound come out of the @#$ing machine anytime I want. In a way, I’ll conquer the sound, rule over it. It’ll play to my tunes…and, I’ve already started losing it.
While writing this post, I got two more reasons to crib about. First, a Punjabi ringtone. The guy, brazenly, never puts his cell on silent mode. Second, another guy talking on his phone as loudly as pot-bellied neighbourhood Sharmaji laughing at his jokes and as brazenly as the previous guy. Another observation, the guy seems to be under a strange illusion that a well-formed English sentence must comprise of at least four “like”s and have to be pronounced as likeuhh. Annoying, brain-jamming, to say the least.
P.S. Thank god Sahee’s here. The F in SRF is fibres and not fertilizers. There’s one cute girl in the office. Whippiee.
Homo sapiens of my college are required to waste 50 priceless summer vacation days to undergo summer training. Sahee, Lullee (not a sheep, not even a female Homo sapiens) and I (a resounding applause, accompanied by generous doses of catcalling and appreciative whistling by the front-row audience) got selected by SRF. After much contestation, Lullee was selected to be butchered in Bhiwadi. Sahee and I were placed in Gurgaon. So, it started on 14th of May, when I heard that sound for the first time.
On the first day, all we expected us to be forced to do was to get acquainted with the L’ affaires of the office and that is what we almost ended up doing. We got introduced to the technical staff, which has more than half a dozen alumni Homo sapiens from my college, and to some from the administration. Here’s my first impression; hard working Homo sapiens, nice and accommodating; HR Homo sapiens appear to have abnormally fast internal metabolisms; lunch’s good; though usually impassive, people start whistling and singing in the company bus. Towards the end of the first day, both of us were summoned by our training supervisor. So, we’ve to prepare design documents for distillation and heat transfer, which, would take loads of theoretical studying and sifting.
On the second day, our tables are assigned and this is where my ordeal begins. I get a table right in front of the floor entrance and all I get to hear all day long is “Peeeee Pee-pip”. Apparently, some SRF techno-freak decided to install access machines at every floor entrance….and nobody protested.
So, every time the machine’s used, which, gallingly, happens quite a lot, “Peeeee Pee-pip” rams its way through my ears and down the auditory canals to the tympanic membranes. Well, I know so much because I tried to find a solution to the problem by studying the whole hearing system. Anyway, I get to hear the sound when I’m about to sleep while studying, when I wake up, while I’m concentrating on the gargantuan work at hand, while having lunch and while all other nominal activities in between, which includes studying. What unnerves me even more is the fact that it can possibly attack my subconscious when I’m half-asleep, studying. I don’t want to become a pee-holic/peep-aholic/whatever. The only gratifying fact is that I’ll get an access card soon and can then, make the sound come out of the @#$ing machine anytime I want. In a way, I’ll conquer the sound, rule over it. It’ll play to my tunes…and, I’ve already started losing it.
While writing this post, I got two more reasons to crib about. First, a Punjabi ringtone. The guy, brazenly, never puts his cell on silent mode. Second, another guy talking on his phone as loudly as pot-bellied neighbourhood Sharmaji laughing at his jokes and as brazenly as the previous guy. Another observation, the guy seems to be under a strange illusion that a well-formed English sentence must comprise of at least four “like”s and have to be pronounced as likeuhh. Annoying, brain-jamming, to say the least.
P.S. Thank god Sahee’s here. The F in SRF is fibres and not fertilizers. There’s one cute girl in the office. Whippiee.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Mid-Semester Dilemma Syndrome
Symptoms:
Holi passed by quite uneventfully this year, but it didn’t matter.
Send an “Appy Oli” SMS to all my friends. Some replied, some didn’t. It didn’t matter still.
Had my favourite, bhel-puri on Sunday. Did I relish it? I don’t think so. Worse still, was I possibly blasé about it? Given my insatiable craving for things even remotely spicy and unending loyalty towards culinary delights, I hope I wasn’t.
Slept early on Sunday night. Yet, I woke up a fatigued, dazed Homo sapiens.
Similar events, galore.
Diagnosis:
A public park, somewhere on Earth. A child, unsure of his steps, comes up to his father and starts glancing curiously at a boy walking alone. The boy walks confidently, with brisk steps, towards a place unknown. A black cat crosses his way and scurries away towards the park exit. An old beggar, slouching comfortably on a pavement near the park exit, looks at her pleadingly as she walks away into oblivion, talking on her cell phone, trampling on the ants.
On the same planet, in some Delhi college, I (a resounding applause, accompanied by generous doses of catcalling and appreciative whistling by the front-row audience) was walking towards the college campus. Being a Homo Sapiens, who is, as pointed out by my well-opinionated Civics teacher, very much a social animal, I usually don’t get the opportunity to savour solitary walks. That was exactly the need of the hour, or of the last week or so. So, on my way to the campus, I decided to introspect/retrospect or something to that effect. In that highly contemplative mood, I realized that I was suffering from what I coined as Mid-Semester Dilemma Syndrome (a collective awe from the front-row audience).
Well, lets get further insight of the disease by trying to unravel the origin of the disease. The roots of this illness lie in the education system of India. The twelve annual examinations have ingrained in every school student, a natural tendency to get depressed in the months of February and March. Coming back to a more contemporary context, first minor examinations have just ended (two weeks back, to be precise). Second minors are imminent (two weeks hence, likewise). So, I can’t decide whether I’ve done enough, or a lot still remains. As a result, I end up wasting most of my time either doing nothing or day-dreaming. Should another episode of “Eroes” be watched or some deliberation be done on the applications of acoustic methods? I am confused, diffident. I stammer when I talk, get tongue-twisted. Even I, one of the most ardent patrons of my jokes, don’t laugh at them anymore. As a matter of fact, I don’t laugh at all. I walk with an uncertain, weary gait. I want to sleep all day long.
Prescription :
A more articulate, though outspoken, view would run on the lines of, “I feel screwed up.” Is there a solution to this illness? I am afraid not. I am confused and uncertain, remember? Only time can undo its misdeeds. I am sure that a very vague picture of MSDS (yup, it’s significant enough to get an abbreviation) has been projected through this incongruous, incoherent post by an absolutely befuddled me. Rx.
.....I reached the campus and confronted Troo and El Jo (no, she’s not Spanish) with this sad news. Troo found it to be quite amusing and told me why she dropped Programming Languages (a Computer Science course in my college). She even proposed a possible extension to my theory and merged it with time variables (future, to be precise). El Jo smiled, nodded her head in approval and confided to me that it troubled her as well. Basically, what I want to prove over here is that I am not the only victim of this illness and that, unless proper precautions are taken, it can affect any student. So beware as it might just be lurking round the corner.
P.S. It took me seven days to write this rubbish...and all because of MSDS.
P.S. P.S. It’s imperative to discern symptoms of MSDS from the exalted state of being (or falling, as they call it) in love.
Holi passed by quite uneventfully this year, but it didn’t matter.
Send an “Appy Oli” SMS to all my friends. Some replied, some didn’t. It didn’t matter still.
Had my favourite, bhel-puri on Sunday. Did I relish it? I don’t think so. Worse still, was I possibly blasé about it? Given my insatiable craving for things even remotely spicy and unending loyalty towards culinary delights, I hope I wasn’t.
Slept early on Sunday night. Yet, I woke up a fatigued, dazed Homo sapiens.
Similar events, galore.
Diagnosis:
A public park, somewhere on Earth. A child, unsure of his steps, comes up to his father and starts glancing curiously at a boy walking alone. The boy walks confidently, with brisk steps, towards a place unknown. A black cat crosses his way and scurries away towards the park exit. An old beggar, slouching comfortably on a pavement near the park exit, looks at her pleadingly as she walks away into oblivion, talking on her cell phone, trampling on the ants.
On the same planet, in some Delhi college, I (a resounding applause, accompanied by generous doses of catcalling and appreciative whistling by the front-row audience) was walking towards the college campus. Being a Homo Sapiens, who is, as pointed out by my well-opinionated Civics teacher, very much a social animal, I usually don’t get the opportunity to savour solitary walks. That was exactly the need of the hour, or of the last week or so. So, on my way to the campus, I decided to introspect/retrospect or something to that effect. In that highly contemplative mood, I realized that I was suffering from what I coined as Mid-Semester Dilemma Syndrome (a collective awe from the front-row audience).
Well, lets get further insight of the disease by trying to unravel the origin of the disease. The roots of this illness lie in the education system of India. The twelve annual examinations have ingrained in every school student, a natural tendency to get depressed in the months of February and March. Coming back to a more contemporary context, first minor examinations have just ended (two weeks back, to be precise). Second minors are imminent (two weeks hence, likewise). So, I can’t decide whether I’ve done enough, or a lot still remains. As a result, I end up wasting most of my time either doing nothing or day-dreaming. Should another episode of “Eroes” be watched or some deliberation be done on the applications of acoustic methods? I am confused, diffident. I stammer when I talk, get tongue-twisted. Even I, one of the most ardent patrons of my jokes, don’t laugh at them anymore. As a matter of fact, I don’t laugh at all. I walk with an uncertain, weary gait. I want to sleep all day long.
Prescription :
A more articulate, though outspoken, view would run on the lines of, “I feel screwed up.” Is there a solution to this illness? I am afraid not. I am confused and uncertain, remember? Only time can undo its misdeeds. I am sure that a very vague picture of MSDS (yup, it’s significant enough to get an abbreviation) has been projected through this incongruous, incoherent post by an absolutely befuddled me. Rx.
.....I reached the campus and confronted Troo and El Jo (no, she’s not Spanish) with this sad news. Troo found it to be quite amusing and told me why she dropped Programming Languages (a Computer Science course in my college). She even proposed a possible extension to my theory and merged it with time variables (future, to be precise). El Jo smiled, nodded her head in approval and confided to me that it troubled her as well. Basically, what I want to prove over here is that I am not the only victim of this illness and that, unless proper precautions are taken, it can affect any student. So beware as it might just be lurking round the corner.
P.S. It took me seven days to write this rubbish...and all because of MSDS.
P.S. P.S. It’s imperative to discern symptoms of MSDS from the exalted state of being (or falling, as they call it) in love.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Anything, but happiness
The event described below took place quite a while back, a day after my last majors(final examinations), to be precise. The precision may not be sharp enough for Homo sapiens not from my college (the name of which I avow never to state). But it’s sufficient to know that it happened “quite a while back” The reason that the event is being described, quite simply, is that it compelled me to write this post.
Majors have a galling tendency of physically restricting hostellers to the confines of hostel(s), institute, xerox shops and Nescafe. Hey, on second thoughts, it’s not that “confined” either(??). Anyway, after seven such trying days, the worst possible place to be is the college itself and that is exactly where I was a day hence. Yes, I know my life appears to be a bit non-happening or un-hep(if that’s a word). Buttttt, this could be attributed to my day-scholar friends, who thought it wiser to savor a day of solitude in their homes in spite of doing the same thing during the majors. “Invigorated and refreshed” is what they feel thus. Luckily, I chanced to meet Pats and Aooooop before it got too late. A unanimous decision was swiftly made: to flee the college.
First stop: Green Park Market
1700 hrs
It’s, without any exception, not a very happening, bustling place. Or, in less disparaging words, GPM is a serene, laid-back shopping block. The long walk from Pizza Hut to the ATM and then, back to MCD (Mc Donalds for the uninitiated, in case there’s any) was not what I had exactly wished for, but the companionship made up for the languid aura the place exuded. After waiting in three separate lines for 7 minutes, three burgers and a coke were ordered and duly served after 19 minutes. Another 20 minutes were efficiently wasted to consume the meager amounts. The last morsels were dearly held on to; and the endeavor to eat them up reminded me of Indian brides being reluctantly sent to their in-laws on M-day. All right, bad imagery...Apologies accepted…..I mean, granted. Aooooop was dissatisfied with the victuals and to date, owes me 60 bucks.
Stop One and a half: Uphaar complex
1815 hrs.
I would suggest Harry Potter fans to either skip this part or lay aside any expectations. I call this part of our excursion as “Stop one and a half” since it formed a small part of the whole thing and was entirely for official business: withdrawing/retrieving/whatever money from an SBI ATM. Another dull place valiantly put up with. Of course, with the assistance of the other two musketeers.
Second Stop: SDA
1900 hrs.
Pats, the expert bartender, makes Aooooop an offer he couldn’t refuse and we ended up in Masala Junction. Pats offered to demonstrate his alcohol-concocting prowess and share a drink with Aooooop. Aooooop shied away at first and then, acquiesced, reminding me, peculiarly, of a betrothed girl. Masala Junction is not a bad place to dawdle after putting one’s legs to test for three hours. Soothing ambience, a friendly waiter/bartender/whatever, propinquity with our college and above all, discount for Homo sapiens from our college.
Drinks were ordered by the dexterous Pats, which included a mock tail for an amateurish me. Is “mock” tail a pun, contrived by alcoholics?? Anyway, Aooooop subjected his drink to the same treatment that Punjabi truck drivers give to Lassi, much to the disapproval of Pats. Candid discussions, a fundamental feature of the activity of wasting time over a table of drinks, soon followed. As is the custom; inconsequential, exhaustive dissection of all unimportant issues was done. An innocuous question sprang up from Pats, “Is there anything in the world, which can leave you completely contended….or happy?” Ahem….I think over the kazillions of options and promptly eliminate each one of them. A terse reply, “Nope, I would still want more.” Pats was even quicker to retort, “Tu bauhaut jaldi buddhha ho jaayega.” Aooooop smirked and nodded hid head in approval. I twitched me eyebrows in protest…that’s usually the minimum I do to protest.
Hostel
2100 hrs.
I decided that I was not getting old. I came up with a list of things that give me even a moment of joy, if not ever-lasting happiness. If there’s a female Homo sapiens reading this post, my suggestion would be not to get an idea from the list. It may not be applicable for all male Homo sapiens. The list is still incomplete and is not arranged in any sort of preference.
1) Tasty, filling, sumptuous food. If it’s home-made, then all the more better.
2) Complements, big time. Especially being called ‘cute.’ I crave for attention and praise. A weakness, I agree.
3) Meeting friends after a long time.
4) Good academic performance.
5) A smile.
6) Kids.
Maybe, eternal happiness is just a concept. It’s the smaller moments of ‘bliss’ that we should look out for, cherish them and let them stay. Hope doesn’t spring eternally, but is nurtured by these pearls. Make a list of your own and see if it makes a difference.
“I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve….” (;Bilbo Baggins)
-J.R.R. Tokien
(The Hobbit )
Download "Not an Addict" by K's choice... in case you haven't listened to it by now. Addictive, truly very addictive.
http://www.esnips.com/doc/b278f178-5d1d-4e25-89af-b672ad10c3e9
-Courtesy aj (http://azzuandme.blogspot.com/)
Majors have a galling tendency of physically restricting hostellers to the confines of hostel(s), institute, xerox shops and Nescafe. Hey, on second thoughts, it’s not that “confined” either(??). Anyway, after seven such trying days, the worst possible place to be is the college itself and that is exactly where I was a day hence. Yes, I know my life appears to be a bit non-happening or un-hep(if that’s a word). Buttttt, this could be attributed to my day-scholar friends, who thought it wiser to savor a day of solitude in their homes in spite of doing the same thing during the majors. “Invigorated and refreshed” is what they feel thus. Luckily, I chanced to meet Pats and Aooooop before it got too late. A unanimous decision was swiftly made: to flee the college.
First stop: Green Park Market
1700 hrs
It’s, without any exception, not a very happening, bustling place. Or, in less disparaging words, GPM is a serene, laid-back shopping block. The long walk from Pizza Hut to the ATM and then, back to MCD (Mc Donalds for the uninitiated, in case there’s any) was not what I had exactly wished for, but the companionship made up for the languid aura the place exuded. After waiting in three separate lines for 7 minutes, three burgers and a coke were ordered and duly served after 19 minutes. Another 20 minutes were efficiently wasted to consume the meager amounts. The last morsels were dearly held on to; and the endeavor to eat them up reminded me of Indian brides being reluctantly sent to their in-laws on M-day. All right, bad imagery...Apologies accepted…..I mean, granted. Aooooop was dissatisfied with the victuals and to date, owes me 60 bucks.
Stop One and a half: Uphaar complex
1815 hrs.
I would suggest Harry Potter fans to either skip this part or lay aside any expectations. I call this part of our excursion as “Stop one and a half” since it formed a small part of the whole thing and was entirely for official business: withdrawing/retrieving/whatever money from an SBI ATM. Another dull place valiantly put up with. Of course, with the assistance of the other two musketeers.
Second Stop: SDA
1900 hrs.
Pats, the expert bartender, makes Aooooop an offer he couldn’t refuse and we ended up in Masala Junction. Pats offered to demonstrate his alcohol-concocting prowess and share a drink with Aooooop. Aooooop shied away at first and then, acquiesced, reminding me, peculiarly, of a betrothed girl. Masala Junction is not a bad place to dawdle after putting one’s legs to test for three hours. Soothing ambience, a friendly waiter/bartender/whatever, propinquity with our college and above all, discount for Homo sapiens from our college.
Drinks were ordered by the dexterous Pats, which included a mock tail for an amateurish me. Is “mock” tail a pun, contrived by alcoholics?? Anyway, Aooooop subjected his drink to the same treatment that Punjabi truck drivers give to Lassi, much to the disapproval of Pats. Candid discussions, a fundamental feature of the activity of wasting time over a table of drinks, soon followed. As is the custom; inconsequential, exhaustive dissection of all unimportant issues was done. An innocuous question sprang up from Pats, “Is there anything in the world, which can leave you completely contended….or happy?” Ahem….I think over the kazillions of options and promptly eliminate each one of them. A terse reply, “Nope, I would still want more.” Pats was even quicker to retort, “Tu bauhaut jaldi buddhha ho jaayega.” Aooooop smirked and nodded hid head in approval. I twitched me eyebrows in protest…that’s usually the minimum I do to protest.
Hostel
2100 hrs.
I decided that I was not getting old. I came up with a list of things that give me even a moment of joy, if not ever-lasting happiness. If there’s a female Homo sapiens reading this post, my suggestion would be not to get an idea from the list. It may not be applicable for all male Homo sapiens. The list is still incomplete and is not arranged in any sort of preference.
1) Tasty, filling, sumptuous food. If it’s home-made, then all the more better.
2) Complements, big time. Especially being called ‘cute.’ I crave for attention and praise. A weakness, I agree.
3) Meeting friends after a long time.
4) Good academic performance.
5) A smile.
6) Kids.
Maybe, eternal happiness is just a concept. It’s the smaller moments of ‘bliss’ that we should look out for, cherish them and let them stay. Hope doesn’t spring eternally, but is nurtured by these pearls. Make a list of your own and see if it makes a difference.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve….” (;Bilbo Baggins)
-J.R.R. Tokien
(The Hobbit )
Download "Not an Addict" by K's choice... in case you haven't listened to it by now. Addictive, truly very addictive.
http://www.esnips.com/doc/b278f178-5d1d-4e25-89af-b672ad10c3e9
-Courtesy aj (http://azzuandme.blogspot.com/)
Monday, December 04, 2006
Woe Infinitum
The door was still locked. All my efforts to find the key went in vain. And my senses had begun to give up. Stupefied by the exertion and out of sheer desperation, I slammed my fist hard on the door. I wanted to cry out aloud, but a whimper was all that I could have uttered. After all, the ants were watching me. Surprisingly, or shockingly rather, the door opened by the thump. It was never locked…...
With apprehensive steps, I entered the room. Even though the lights were on, the room was dark. The tube lights above were connected end-to-end and formed a big halo. It illuminated just a narrow region, making rest of the room appear even darker. To my utter surprise, the halo seemed to be the devil itself in disguise. How could the only source of light be fiendish? To add to that, my vision was obscured by a haze thinning out with every moment that passed by, only to get murkier. The room was empty.
Faint noises could be heard from somewhere. Everything, every element of the room seemed to inebriate me with delirium. I started feeling cold. I looked around for some support. It was then that the wall caught my eye. The wall undulated to the mumbled noises and grew bigger with each reverberation. A rickety table lay in front of the wall the wall, with a rotting clock above it. The table was infested with termites and the clock was, astonishing as it may seem, being devoured by a host of ants. The ants went nowhere and didn’t appear to build anything from what they feasted upon. The clock was disappearing, slowly and steadily. The table had a woman’s statue besides it. With one of the most distressing expressions ever seen by me, it seemed to emanate gloomy vibes all around. With tears in its eyes, the statue rankled me to the core.
Something moved in the corner. Anxiously, I turned around and saw him sitting on a chair. My confidant, my closest companion was always there. He knew it all and was always there in the room. Yet, he never revealed it to me. I went closer and was taken aback with what I witnessed next. He had turned into a ghastly figure. With hollowed eyes and blood dripping from the fingernails, he was no longer me. In spite of his pitiful state, he was relentlessly reading a book, rambling incessantly to himself. The ants were watching him too. I tried to talk to him, but no sound could come out from my mouth. I tried to shout but was helplessly unable to do so. With only one aim in his mind, he had completely forgotten about anything that existed outside the room. I was alone once again……
Despondently, I looked around for the last time. The keys were there, right in front of me. The door was never locked. Somebody had unlocked the door and had been awaiting me all that time. Maybe the person wanted to talk to me. Maybe the person was always there for me and I had ignored the door. Everything boiled down to a stream of maybes and a despairing concoction of what-could-have-beens. Maybe, I never looked in all this time. As that realization dawned on me, my heart kept sinking to the depths of desolation.
Now, only an image remains, a reflection refusing to fade away. I just wish I could talk to her once. Maybe, I have lost her………...…..forever.
With apprehensive steps, I entered the room. Even though the lights were on, the room was dark. The tube lights above were connected end-to-end and formed a big halo. It illuminated just a narrow region, making rest of the room appear even darker. To my utter surprise, the halo seemed to be the devil itself in disguise. How could the only source of light be fiendish? To add to that, my vision was obscured by a haze thinning out with every moment that passed by, only to get murkier. The room was empty.
Faint noises could be heard from somewhere. Everything, every element of the room seemed to inebriate me with delirium. I started feeling cold. I looked around for some support. It was then that the wall caught my eye. The wall undulated to the mumbled noises and grew bigger with each reverberation. A rickety table lay in front of the wall the wall, with a rotting clock above it. The table was infested with termites and the clock was, astonishing as it may seem, being devoured by a host of ants. The ants went nowhere and didn’t appear to build anything from what they feasted upon. The clock was disappearing, slowly and steadily. The table had a woman’s statue besides it. With one of the most distressing expressions ever seen by me, it seemed to emanate gloomy vibes all around. With tears in its eyes, the statue rankled me to the core.
Something moved in the corner. Anxiously, I turned around and saw him sitting on a chair. My confidant, my closest companion was always there. He knew it all and was always there in the room. Yet, he never revealed it to me. I went closer and was taken aback with what I witnessed next. He had turned into a ghastly figure. With hollowed eyes and blood dripping from the fingernails, he was no longer me. In spite of his pitiful state, he was relentlessly reading a book, rambling incessantly to himself. The ants were watching him too. I tried to talk to him, but no sound could come out from my mouth. I tried to shout but was helplessly unable to do so. With only one aim in his mind, he had completely forgotten about anything that existed outside the room. I was alone once again……
Despondently, I looked around for the last time. The keys were there, right in front of me. The door was never locked. Somebody had unlocked the door and had been awaiting me all that time. Maybe the person wanted to talk to me. Maybe the person was always there for me and I had ignored the door. Everything boiled down to a stream of maybes and a despairing concoction of what-could-have-beens. Maybe, I never looked in all this time. As that realization dawned on me, my heart kept sinking to the depths of desolation.
Now, only an image remains, a reflection refusing to fade away. I just wish I could talk to her once. Maybe, I have lost her………...…..forever.
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