Pensive

Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed with don't know what but the only outlet then seems to pour it out on the paper or screen in this case. Theres just nothing else to do than just type on with some music playing as a background and letting your mind wander and wonder.

There is nothing that is particularly wrong with life in fact probably nothing but its just like there is such a back log of things that I sometimes have been in too much of a hurry to have felt. It becomes necessary to kind of re-visit it before you can move on. I miss not having a "pensive" in such times. I think writing for me is also akin to putting the slivery slivers into my pensive. Is there anyone else out there that has had such bouts?

I absolutely love the concept of memory, its wonderful to be able to go back and re-live it, re-create it in your head. The most interesting thing of it all is that all this kind of takes you by total surprise, mostly when you are least expecting it. It could be a song, a face, a colour, just randomly anything at all. Most times there is no discernible link between the trigger and the memory that is triggered. Although that does not stop you from trying to find a connection. At times I do succeed but that is not the point of the whole exercise if thats what it is. Mind thankfully keeps track of all that we feel, sometimes it also keeps what we have not felt. Some of my experiences have certainly enhanced upon revisiting it in my head. Bizarre as it sounds I think it is true.

Reality Bites.

It was a bad start of the day. The alarm had gone off as it should but somehow it had failed to rouse me from my dreamless sleep. At least not till Supriya literally shook me and drenched me out of it with the help of some water from my night stand. Apparently not a good start for her either considering, the persistent shrill wake up buzz got her from her room to mine through the adjoining balcony that we share in our hostel.

Her extreme measures resulted in some name calling which subsided into my sheepish wane of a smile as I remembered the note I had struck on her door last night.

Anyway the point being that today of all days, it was specifically painful to be up and about in the morning to attend an extra class in collage. As if these extra hours on a cold wintry foggy Delhi morning will change the course of my life! Ya right!

I hastily got up, now fully aware of the time or the lack of it. Got ready in record time thanks to unknown series of events, that resulted in an available bath cubicle with steaming hot water; as though god himself wanted to make up for his earlier foul up of my day.

Of course later I got to know that god was working through Shikha’s NRI boyfriend calling her at these strange hours of the weekend mornings.

As I walk the streets in early foggy Delhi morning, I am just hoping that this turns out to be worth my while, me traveling all across the city in this less than ideal weather. May be we can catch a movie if the class gets over in time. So far so good, at least the bus was on time. This in local lingo means that it came with in five min of my reaching the 100 meters stretch of land called the bus stand. It just keeps getting better; just as I walk in I manage to plonk myself into the last empty seat of now quickly filling bus. As I settle into the bumpy ride, characteristic of a non-jam packed bus, I spot an old baba and even though I am feigning a nap I feel or rather imagine his censure as he stands right next to my seat. Finally the devil in me gives up; not without a good fight though and I offer him the seat, which he graciously accepts of course.

I blame my semi-awake state to the defeat of the devil within. Something happens that jolts me out of it. A casual caress on my butt, not that it would be the first but still its relatively difficult to get away with in a not so full a bus passage. I crane my neck and see this old man’s umbrella jutting out. Beep! False alarm. No need for hackles to be up, just yet. Now at least I am wide awake

All remnants of my sleep evaporate as I try to soak in the morning sun and thaw. It is nothing more that a warm glow through the fog. I actually begin to enjoy my ritualistic ride to my college and things are looking up as the oldie starts gathering himself to get off. As he reaches for the supporting rod to heave himself up; he blatantly brushes across my assets and before I can put into any of the billion ways of retribution, he gets off. All I manage to say with enough vehemence is “I hope you die and go to hell you moronic low life”.

A strange thing happened just then as I saw myself, taking the seat in the bus and a wispier version of me floats out into the open to witness a very sorry scene. In his hurry to get off and away from his scene of crime, he runs right into the path of a truck ending in a bloody head on.

The nest thing of course I know is that I am sitting in the bus. Thoroughly puzzles and spooked by what I saw or what I thought I saw. Was it possible that I have just had an out of body experience? I am filled with guilt and remorse and anger. Unwittingly the saying flashes through my mind “be careful for what you wish for, you might just get it.” Why did I have to say those words right then? And most importantly, of all the things I could have asked god for, in his moment of benevolence, I have wasted that one wish on the scum that I would hardly cross paths with. Why of all the things I ask god for, he had to grant me this?

As I am castigating and berating myself mentally, my co passenger nudges me and then shakes me out of my reverie.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Are you on dope? How can you go to sleep on the wet pillow”?

Don’t you have to be somewhere?

As I open my eyes I see Supriya bending over me. I release the breath that I didn’t realize I was holding. A feeling of relief was washing over me in waves.

Completely oblivious to my near escape from my dream, Supriya is chatting away to glory having brought me some breakfast from the canteen. I am happy to see her do things that fill my life with the normalcy I have suddenly come to appreciate. Probably because it was so short lived.

Supriya reads the headlines from the news paper and laments over it.

“Just look at the state of traffic in the city. Just yesterday an old man got crushed under a truck as he was getting down from a bus.” Happened right in the morning, where we all go through.

Before I could recover and contemplate over the implications of this piece of news, she walked out the door and popped her head back in for the warning.

“I am off but listen you better keep away from Shikha for a while; she is on your case and knows it was you who used her hot water yesterday.”