A tale of 9 ears.

Let me keep this short. It's a classic that would be enjoyed most by people who were at the scene. I am lucky that I was among the four of us in the auto this evening. Ok, so I will come straight to the point.

Three of us were in the auto, on our way to a friend's marriage. Unknown to the driver, so that he does not charge up his already exorbitant price for the 14 km journey for the additional passenger, another friend was to join us on the way. When he told him, of course after the deal was made and we had travelled some distance, his expressions changed and surfaced through his wry sense of humour. "Where do I drop one of you?" he asked. And when we insisted it's rather a 'pick' it was obvious that wasn't picked up well by his highness. Nonetheless, we stopped him at the mentioned place. His pride was further bruised when we did not pile up in the rear seat and the friend instead opted to sit beside him. And he kept slicing his being with looks of contempt each time we, as usual, burst out laughing. He even cleared his ears a couple of times.

Then as we were in the middle of a busy road, he did something that had us guessing initially. He screeched to a halt and told the friend to get down. He himself got down as well - and removed the seat cushion and brought out a packet from its intestines. Having done that, he motioned him to sit and drove on. Moments later, he was holding a small piece of paper and rolling and folding it. When the size was just right, he put it in his left ear and smiled at the friend - "Talk as much as you want now."

"I use it to wipe the mirrors, but sometimes it comes good in emergencies," he smiled even as he turned a literally deaf ear to the thunderous laughter inside the auto.

Hot News!

I have made clear my dislike for the standard of newspapers in an earlier entry. You may ask why, then, I still shell out the hundred rupees at the end of the month for the Times of India? The simple reason is - I do not have a dining table at home. And so, at the time of each meal, the Times of India is summoned to save the floor as the food starts its journey from the vessel to the mouth, via the plate.

Today, however, it was a grave insult to the newspaper as unknowingly, today's edition itself was spread during lunch. It was too late by the time I realized and so we proceeded with deliberate nonchalance. However, the metro supplement was lucky and after lunch, I decided to skim through it. The first article that I chanced upon was about modern-day parenting and started with a query that was something like this -

Hello, I am a parent of a 9 year-old and I realize the role of a parent has changed. I know I cannot be like my parents and have to adapt myself to the changing times. Please advise on how to be a parent and when do I stop being a parent?

I threw it aside after this. And, also made sure it lies crumpled beside its discarded sibling after dinner tonight.

One Course Less

The symptoms were visible for quite sometime now. But there are times when your pride stops you from standing up to the truth. I have also kept it under wraps for some months now. Today, with emotions akin to losing a closed one, I declare my 'legendary appetite' dead. Put to test to a sumptuous buffet dinner this evening, it performed in its usual inhuman proportions, but failed short of its own high standards. After a seemingly unending sequence of barbecued starters, I directly went for some really large helpings of the desserts - leaving the main course weeping by this rare display of discrimination.

Memories from the glorious era - the last 13 years - flash in the mind, glowing tributes from young and old alike reverberate still. For the uninitiated, I will still be respected as one of the rare tribes. I would surely finish off what would remain during group-dinners. But deep inside, the scene of today's cremation would burn in fiery flames.

Imagine being a Viv Richards and coming back as an Afridi.

Imagine

It was the after-dinner chat - and, as uaual, only words were walking miles. There were four other friends with me and we ended up talking about a lecturer friend who has just got a new job. After some talks, one of my friends, pointing at me, suddenly said - "What will happen if he becomes a lecturer?" The laughter that this imaginative sentence elicited would have surely put Rowan Atkinson to self-pity. Somehow containing his laughter, he repeated his question one more time. Here is the reaction -

Friend 1 - Hahahahahahahahahahahha (Vigourous swaying of the body - rocking back and forth.)

Friend 2 - I cannot imagine, man. (She is of a very soft nature and hence this soft expression.)

Friend 3 - College will be closed by the time he reaches. (Hit the nail on the head, I say.)

The pleasant picture of a packed class in rapt attention was suddenly torn apart. I could not tell them how it would be after the last comment.

Two dreams

They say dreams reflect your thoughts - what if they breed in your subconscious existence? I am thankful to the Creator, who did not allot dreams for my sleep. It has been more than made up for by what he allotted me for my waking time, where I choose and shape what I wish to see in my oneirisms. Coming back to the topic of our thoughts getting an outlet in our dreams, I just hope this is not true. Or, at least, it allows for a few exceptions, like most other rules.

As I woke up yesterday, still trying to stop the playback in my eyes, the sinking feeling just refused to go. I looked at my watch - 11:30. Diversion being shortest path to forgetting, I came online, to primarily check my office email. But almost as soon as I logged on to chat, I come to know that one of my friends had a dream as well. Talk about a dream when I was trying to forget mine. Anyways, what I heard was straight out of HG Wells' pen. Her dream had started with an argument with her sisters over whether to stay one day or two days in Los Angeles before going to New York. These were the last two places in their 3-stop trip. They had no contestation on their first destination though. Probably because, it was a place which few people will miss a chance to visit. It was the moon.

And so, I was told about life forms in the moon and how they cover only a small portion of the land. The major portion of the moon, quite 'dream'atically was covered with snow.

The disturbing thoughts of dreams reflecting our thoughts came back to me. She was indeed talking to people from USA some days back and she has been thinking of going to New York since sometime now. Why! Just some days back she even watched Khoya Khoya Chand. In a moment, I was sucked back in the gloom that I had just left behind.

I am in no mood to try and gather my thoughts that engulf me to this moment. Once again I am made to realise, words are just for moderate emotions. Extreme sorrow or happiness leaves you without words, even though vibrant thoughts jostle inside. I guess I would leave it to you this time - to try and feel why I am feeling like this thinking about that silly dream-thought equation.

Yesterday, I dreamt of a goon who was beating up my friend. Moments later, I killed him by smashing a brick on his head.


Update after 2 days:
Within 48 hours of this murderous dream, I was at it again. This time, I was keeping a band of brigands at bay while protecting people in the train I was travelling (a la Sholay) - gunning them down with abandon.