The nothingness of a working life. The early morning blues beckoned him to the land of the living. Technicolour dreams were not for him. Groggily he lingered towards the bathroom. What poise, what passion. He faced the mirror. It is difficult to see how one looks in the mirror with their eyes closed. Why, why this misery? The bed beckoned. Come to me it said, come to what you want, to what you deserve. What is this life of haste? Screw the boss, screw the job. Sleep. Sleep serenely, sleep calmly, sleep tonight, sleep all your life. Why do you need to leave on time today? Why? There's that meeting today, the voice of reason boomed Godlike, all pervasive yet invisible.
His hand accepted the decision and sought the tooth-brush amongst the many tiddly widdlies. A bit of paste and more was squeezed on to the mane of the brush. The eternal struggle, the holy war between man and plaque was waged yet again, albeit in not a very manly way either. Gargle and he was ready to dress up. Water, water. To quench the thirst of that endless night where many a wars were fought in many a heads.
To bath or not to bath is the question. Whether its nobler in mind to bear the slings and arrows of outrageous decency or by taking arms against it end it. (Editors Note: Please stop using this single Shakespearean quote you remember). Like a dog he raised one of his limbs and smelt the armpit. The stink was heretic. To bath then. Partly undressed he walked in. Shower or the bucket. To stand or to sit. To take the water like a man or to accept the eventuality of being wet like a Hindu. Screw the bucket. There was no need to move so many limbs when the turn of a knob would suffice. He stepped outside the realm of the shower and the released the torrential downpour. And now to wet thyself. An arm outstretched entered the upper atmosphere of the wetlands. With a jerk it was withdrawn. With one leg in first the creature became a man. The senses returned albeit reluctantly. Now since it will take forever to write about every twist and turn of the soap on his body, we conclude the bath. The final act of absolution was carried out by a towel and he was ready to wear the employees new clothes. A flick of a comb later, the drone was ready to leave. After he wore his shoes. Of course after he wore his shoes, how stupid the author would have to be to send the lead protagonist without shoes. A lot like me.
He picked up a copy of Mint. It had good English within its reams. The descent from the house began, the boy became a man. From the confines of the house to the expanse of the universe. Though each enclosed the other. Birds chirped, dogs growled. Black shoes rubbing against the gravel, the hero marched. The march of a foot-soldier to the eternal war. Assured of eventual death and the resulting absence of heroics, one more day was to be spent turning the cog of life. Today's duty : Keep the blandness of life intact.
He reached the bus-stop, took out his music player, put the earphones in his ear and was ready for rest of the day. The AC bus arrived. He always entered last in the bus, not out of his will. He sat in an empty seat and immediately blocked the adjacent one,by keeping his bag on it. Sudden revelation of the emptiness of his life and lack of meaning or ambition in it hit him like a wave. It caught his collars, threw him down, dragged him across the street, raised him on a pole and left it there as a symbol of mediocrity. To regain a breath of dignity he dared himself to write something coherent, some write-up/ blog post. And this awful piece of shit was all he could come up with. Its blandness and self centered outlook is a new low for him too. If you have read this, you must have if you are reading this line, please meet me and i promise to return you your 5 minutes of life back. And the ill-tempered, monsoon morning in Mumbai on a Sunday morning ain't helping either. God! How i miss those hang-overs.
