The Sun is Sleepy

I asked myself for an honest explanation for my extended hiatus from blimblop. I could muster only two plausible explanations:

a) lazy, I am
b) cold, It is [extremely]

This is the most debilitating nature of cold I have ever had the misfortune of experiencing. The only thing this weather is good for is sleeping and complaining about how cold it is.

*

The Sun slept in today. Immersed himself in a coccoon of clouds till only the most resilient of rays could sneak out. Few and far between.

And all of everywhere is steeped in the most morose shade of grey. If "depressed" were a coulour I suppose it would look a lot like how the world is painted right now. And it is indeed a stubborn hue, immune to all nature of distractions. No amount of sunny smiles or cups of piping hot milk... My nose is red and toes are turning blue but everything else is still mostly grey.

I see no reason to get up today. To extricate myself from the under the layers and between the folds of my warm bed, made warm by an hour of dedicated shivering and 6 more of wriggling around in fitful dissatisfying sleep.

If the sun can be on vacation, I see no reason to not follow suit. What could I possibly gain by a display of industriousness? And how much would I lose if I grant my poor little tired self one more hour of precious sleep.

*

I'm slowly having to come to terms with how much I will miss Delhi. I can't imagine being anywhere else and being comfortable.

As much as I complain, it is this winter that I'll miss the most. The one that is slipping out if my fingers as I speak. The numbness in my ears when I'm traveling by a rickety old rick. My poor chill blained toes itching for attention. Being allergic to baths and yet having to subject oneself to the evil ritual everyday. Chapped lips, butchered cuticles... The million layers that never seem to be enough.

And the complaints. I can't imagine crafting complaints as elaborate about any other season than I do with winter. It is the complaints that I'll miss the most.

I killed dschool

...took it by the throat, squeezed hard. till all that could escape was an exasperated gasp. a rather bored one too.

till all that anyone could think of was the job they didn't get, they money they aren't going to make. the future that is so terribly uncertain.

i can't help but feel slightly responsible... for building up a bubble around them within which all that mattered were tangible things like offer letters, stipends and compensations...

and they love me for it... for pretending to lend their lives some direction. for smiling and being patient and helpful and encouraging... and inexhaustibly so.

we all need a vacation from ourselves and our respective sad situations. me more so than anyone else.

if only i didn't enjoy it quite so much. if only i didn't feel quite so important and indispensable.

*

it is indeed cruel how life and circumstance have allowed me to play God with the lives (specifically: careers) of so many innocent, unsuspecting souls.

*

i wish i were as crafty and manipulative as some give me credit for. that i had half a brain to do all the nasty things I've been accused of. all the evil plotting, planning and general 'sabotage-ing'.

*

to sleep.. per chance to dream.
no no... a deep, dreamless sleep.

employed

i got a job today. not one i wanted, but... the money is good. enough to keep body and soul together... and then some.

enough for my father to finally prove what he believed all along: that two daughters are not two liabilities..

enough for my mother to cry copious tears of joy and relief... copious because all mothers' tears tend to be... joy that I'll now earn about as much as her evil colleague's drone of an engineer son.. relief that the trousseau that she never had enough to set aside for will now take care of itself.

and all i feel is sleepy.. not happy or sad or even some obscure, unnamed and uninhabited town poised uneasily on the long road 'twixt happy and sad. just sleepy...

sheesh...

Home

The dramatic monologue has staged an altogether too dramatic comeback. It happened somewhere between Karnal and Panipat. I survived an entire week without it... didn't hear the faintest suggestion of a sound or have the mildest of inclinations to revive it.

Other things crowded it out. The television, music, movies, all India radio... cake (so much cake) and icecream (criminal portions of), baked beans, honey biscuits... kiwi fruit, keenu, apple, guava... Ma's soft snoring, DD's ranting-raving-whining, Dulari's oh so out of tune serenading, Khalifa's convulsive coughing, Papa's phonecalls... crazy dogs barking, scooties honking, uncles sat-sri-akal-ing, aunties relentlesslay staring, surdies balle-balle-ing...

Such a strangely bubble like existance. But now I am back. Back "home"...

Pooch once said I should keep blogging, lest the world think I was dead or something.

Well world, I am alive... and cribbing...

Watch this space.