Hey, its 8 in the evening on a Saturday already. I slept like a baby yesterday. No hangovers, not that I had drunk something. No engagements, not that I was invited somewhere. No phone calls, not that I was expecting someone to call.
Its going towards a dull, grey weekend after all, just like the doctors predicted. I had restrictions. Now they are gone. I am only left with decisions to make. Did I mention the endoscopy leaves scars inside the nasal septum? The tiny bulb atop the probe gave me a warm fuzzy feeling inside the head. Like always the feeling was followed by a scar and a world of hurt.
Custodian of Arka Management System, Keeper of Arka range of apparels and accessories, an O+ goddess, has not only taken the pain of giving birth to me but has also taken care of me till now. The ‘suji’ was served, the medicines arranged, she complains of how lazy I am. Her complaining voice assures me. Creator has however spent the day, lunging scornful looks at my time sense, and a tad bit time buying chicken from the market.
It’s official. I am bored. I have run the errands. I have mended the loose ends of my previous ‘messy’ week. So I give a call to one lone ranger in the wild wild west, friend of mine, we rode together. Had a nice little chat with him regarding happy hours, coronas and hangovers. I haven’t seen him for a long time. They tell me he has grown a paunch to give me competition.
A hangover, not that I had drunk something. No engagements, not that I was invited somewhere. No phone calls, not that I was expecting someone to call.
I have a hard disk drive. I have movies. The movies are in that hard disk drive I have. Exact trail of thoughts I had at around 3 in the afternoon. I had read Eisenheim, the illusionist recently. I was drawn towards him. I could feel the pain. As if it was mine. I watched the movie again. Deja-vu. For me the story ended when they saw that Eisenheim himself was an illusion. Made me want to end things just like that, vanish into the thin air. No pain. No anchors. No memories. The movie runs for more than an hour and a half.
A hangover, not that I had drunk something. An engagement, not that I was invited somewhere. No phone calls, not that I was expecting someone to call.
The light outside is dimming out. A clutter of lights in the flats across the street. I grow paranoid looking at my mobile. I think they have disconnected me from the world for not paying bills. But I am on pre paid. What is wrong with my phone? What is wrong with me? Then I get a call. I talk. I hang up. I feel a kink at the back of my head. Too many things were left unsaid. Too many things left to perception. Now it’s too late. I love myself. I hate myself for that.
Hey, its 8:30 in the evening on a Saturday already. A hangover, not that I had drunk something. An engagement, not that I was invited somewhere. A phone call, not that I was expecting someone to call.
My weekend achievements. I can’t mourn. I can’t cry. I can’t feel. I can laugh at myself….
No comments:
Post a Comment