Musings

A bloglet about vacillant blogwriting, moron's marriage and walking streets

I hate updating the blog when I am on vacation. To set things straight and lengthen this bloglet which I believe would be very long even without this piece of information, let me quote the top few reasons in descending order:

5. The place where I write my blog from is always a nightmare. I do not have an internet connection at home, so I have to get to a netcafe. The cafe where I am seated now has no privacy and worse yet, there are just too many college students trying to make everyone understand that their project work which they are in need to be typed/formatted has to be carefully typed or else the next columbia shuttle may fail.

4. I have to ramble inevitably about someone I met who is either  a. a stranger whom I met on my journey home or b. some relative who got hold of me somewhere. They would have the same thing in common, they would have bored the shit out of me.

3. I have to put up with a stupid internet connection and a keyboard that has surely undergone a year's typing by some gorilla in a circus-show. The gorilla might have looked cute but it has sure loosened all the keys. There - I have to remember to press "Enter" thrice one I put this period.

2.  I start my miss my daily routine of sleep (mandatory), work (optional) during a vacation and end up as a over-eaten and active youngish boy. I think its difficult for people to understand, but I rarely write anything that I enjoy when I am in such mood. I need some sleep-deprivation, some hunger and a lot of tiredness to write a blog I enjoy later (please note that I have used the term "a blog that I enjoy" - I rarely write anything enjoyable for others).

1. The grand numero uno : If have to put up with all the above reasons and still write this bloglet, then it invariably means that I am BORED AS HELL!!

Now, with my bloglet: the moron's marriage was splendid. It was good and I felt really happy for her. I had a twinge of my ego peaking at one point and the overall joy of her marriage was too good for me. I was smiling all day. Ergo, I have managed to miss her already but as it always happens (I know this with my previous experience with the wedding and parting of my own sister), time tends to heal all these small skirmishes. I have no intention of posting this paragraph in the final bloglet. I consider this a blasphemy and I always felt bad about writing after my own sister's wedding - events like these are not to be written and published. If you are reading all this stuff, it simply means that I have had a miraculous change of mind later.

The shopping spree lasted the whole weekend. I was buying things for the groom who happens to be my brother, the bride and for me as well. The groom has had a navy blue blazer which suits him just fine. My task now is to make sure that I dress presentable when the day comes, something which I am never comfortable with. But all those can wait.

The following text is a new revelation for me. Considering the endless tirade of the dorky college girls with whom I share the net cafe now, I might even consider to write the following as a thesis and submit it for a Ph.D. Ok, enough of the build-ups - here it is: vacations are not just good breaks from the monotony of work in a remote location. They are a source of great visions and a place where you do a lot of thinking for your life ahead. This is not completely new if you think about it but I am in the mood for casting everything I think of as a revelation right now. It has been four days since the vacation started but I haven't relaxed much. There has been just too much in the air to think about nothing and take what we often call a "break". And of course there has been questions and a lot of them. And of course I take a small walk everyday, talking to myself inside. There is nothing as good as a walk in my old streets. Streets which have seen me going to school carrying a bag/lunch, seen me going to college with a notebook and seen me going away in a car to take a flight to a far off land - my new home. Its been twenty years this June since we came to this place - nothing much to get envied at or even consider a emotional attachment to this place. But even after all these years, there is a simple truth that I talk well within myself in this place than anywhere else. I hope to walk to my own destiny soon.

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A collosal chaos

Right now, at this very moment when I start typing in another meaningless bloglet, there are trillion things going on in my mind. I am not very tired, I am not very fresh either. There is still a ounce of the headache that I had yesterday left in me and I wouldn't want that to grow. There are numerous old wise-sayings about headaches but you never think of them when you don't have one. I find it difficult to point to one now - as always. Yesterday's pain was mind-numbing - it started to grow after dinner-time and by midnight I had tried to sleep twice but got up without success. That's another bad thing about me - I just cannot sleep unless everything feels fine with myself. And that seldom happens. I tried watching TV again but had to quit after 5 minutes. I just wished I could call someone and chat for hours - that would atleast help me spend time and hope for a mind-numbing sleep to behold me at the end of it. Thinking of which I suddenly remembered a call I had received a while ago. It had come later than 2 AM in the morning and the caller was complaining of a toothache. I woke up hearing the voice (picking calls and putting them to ear were involuntary actions by then) and had to restrain myself from rebuking the other side for calling me when I was asleep. But the other voice continued - it finally asked me to suggest a pain relief mechanism. I declined saying that I didn't know anything about it. An idea crept upto me then - I could always google it and find a simple solution. But the computer seemed a light year away (even in that darkness I could see its silhoutte a few feet from my bed) and I didn't suggest anything. The caller perhaps reading my mind by then (or perhaps there was an almost-silent "oh" that was picked up) and suggested me to look at the internet. I mumbled saying that I wouldn't want to do it but if it was highly essential, then I will look at it. There was an instant no - I half-wished now that there was a delay that I could have comprehended. I don't remember how the call proceeded from there. Most probably I put down the phone after a couple of "take care"s on either side of a bye. I slept peacefully that day.

Having a headache is like having a thousand bees all around you - their stings full of venom. You know that they hurt and you know that you will wince when they sting. But the most difficult part of the situation is not the pain you get when they sting but the constant droning - the hum of the bees. They go on and on inside your head and you feel that you are never going to see the end of it. The incessant droning is still present albeit mildly - I just wish I knew a cure.

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A sense of time!

The day started a bit differently. Someone with a phone decided to check if good Ol' Rizwan was still alive and kicking in his bed and called me up at 8 in the morning. Yes - it is usually the time of the day (or should I say night!) when my dreams get started and I look forward  (with my inner eye of course) to couple of hours of more sleep. As such, I put down the phone a minute later and looked at the plastic clock near my bed. It was grinning wildly, with an incorrect time. It has been doing this for a while now - and there's a story.

The story is simple - it no longer works. It has been as static as the pyramids for almost a month now. And there is a reason it no longer runs - it is devoid of a battery. I am highly used to keeping a sense of time. My first wrist watch was brought when I was still wearing shorts to school (I moved to pants when I moved to sixth standard - so thats saying something) and I always had a trend of keeping a keen track of time. During those years in school I somehow realized that having a sense of time is really important and managing time is one of the most callous virtues in life. I am a stickler for punctuality and there has been more than one instance where I dropped out of a plan because the other party didn't turn up in time.

Years rolled by and the boy in shorts grew up to be a man which is me. I started working for a living and I had two wrist watches and a mobile to keep track of time. Sleeping at night, without the wrist watches (I have seen some people wear wrist watches during sleep - I do not do this) and the mobile phone was always a problem. I finally got myself a cheap clock that I kept near my bed. Its the thing I normally see first once I wake up. There is a alarm functionality in the clock but I seldom use it. I like the accuracy of my mobile phone a tad better than an analog stick which goes roundabout in the bed-clock. Even if the alarm is ringing and I wake up at the other side of the bed, I always look up to my bed-clock to see if my mobile phone has been accurate. Till date, it always has been.

The clock died a sudden death like all battery failures. I still haven't got myself to put in a new battery. I still haven't forgotten to look at it every morning. It still grins. 

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