Missing me

Was surfing meaninglessly, in my usual preoccupied manner when the remote froze in on ‘The Wonder Years’. The episode was one in which Harper Woods was to be torn down to make way for a shopping complex monstrosity. The woods – where Kevin and his friends lived countless childhood memories and lives. The night before the woods are to be reduced to nothingness, Kevin and gang land up there to reminisce for the last time. They play a final game of hide n seek. And then the adult voice of Kevin says something that hit the sleepy gong in my heart– “Growing up isn’t easy…And that night, we found something we had lost – the spirit of children…the spirit of memories…”.

I cried (yes, again…and no, I’m not pregnant…I’m just hysterical). I cried at my own lost childhood...the memories, the sights, sounds, smells..... I wept at spending another adult day bickering with taxi drivers and rushing indoors into A.C. environments to escape the heat. At another night used up in flipping channels back and forth. For all those childhood landscapes that have lived on only in the blind spots of memory….physically defunct, ethereally hung in time.

I cry…At having lost ‘me’ in a sea of frozen faces.

When it rains, it pours…

Leaving behind a wistful vapour trail, the day diffuses into inky blackness. It’s been pouring incessantly…the grey-black atmosphere coating everything it touches with a damp and gloomy veneer. The dark clouds form an apostrophe in the sky…like a million words have been left unsaid in between. I can’t get myself to speak and my words choke to death even before being born. Who knew it would end this way? Everything, including the relentless rain seems so futile…

Ehhh…Wassup Doc!!??!

Had been to my quack for a checkup on a perennial problem and instead of administering a cure, she took a complete U-turn of a deviation and settled in on her preferred choice of subject - marriage. She sort of suggested that my hormones would rebel like crazy if i did not tie the knot (around my neck). I looked at that implication a tad dubiously since she’s been a very vocal advocate of my marital status. Being tirelessly hounded by scores of homo sapiens on the same subject...I did something weird.

I launched into a revolutionary tirade on why marriage is not for the likes of me. And finished it with a smug and successful look on my face. She in turn, gave me a number that made me duck behind her desk with my eyeballs peering out.

I’m never gonna see that doc again. She’ll probably burn me at the stake.

Of Resolutions & trying to keep 'em!

Sigh...This is my 4th attempt at blogging...i never seem to keep up with it. And i forget all my i.d.'s and passwords. My new year resolution this year is to TRY (that's the key word) and write a blog atleast once a week.

Now to make this last more than a week...

One finger

I type on a second-hand laptop, a steaming cup of tea (yeah…I’m not in2 coffee…and no, it ain’t a sacrilege) by my side for internal tranquility and external warmth and with one eye on the blinking tube light. Almost Dom Moraes type, I type mostly with just one or two fingers. The rest linger restlessly over the keyboard, waiting for the chance to hit upon a letter…which never comes.

There are two bottles of mineral water standing like sentinels on either side of my bed. Why, you ask? Because I don’t know which side of the bed I’ll wake up on and when I need that blessed drink, I don’t want to turn to the other side. It’s too much work. A horde of books lie on a stand in complete disarray, some read, some waiting to be read. Clothes hang limp from a hook like they have been sentenced to suffer their fate. You may say nothing’s in order…I say it’s ‘chaotic order’ the kinds only I know. The drone of the old AC and the one blinking tube light are something I’ve gotten used to by now (each time, the landlord replaces one blinking tube light with another). The Venetian blinds are drawn ‘full down’ because it’s 12 midnight and I’m freaked out by shadowy things creeping up on me, even my own shadow at times. The TV’s on the blink and I don’t feel like reading.

So here I am, with my second-hand laptop, typing with one finger.