Acedip

How does it feel, sweat dripping down your chin, slowly rolling around from the back of your ear and at times in your mouth but you fight to hold on. You are having a nice time with a bollywood damsel or the girl next door whom you watch reading the newspaper outside her room every morning and wish she would just lookup to find you reading poetry out loud or sticking your head into the view finder of your camera and clicking everything except her, maybe that would make her jealous. But no, you are having a nice time in this world, late night poetry readings in her room which you climbed through a tree in her house, intentional brushing of hands on her legs soft as feather, But wait, where is this sweat coming from, you dont remember doing something which result in this. And you fight to open your eyes which too evade you, but you are able to get a glimpse and you find yourself in your room while your mother ponder on you as if she heard everything you spoke to the girl in your dream, but no that dint happen. She simply switched off the cooling to get you off the bed and ruin the perfect sunday morning. You gather some energy, make a face or two, and go for the loo. There you close your eyes and try to go back to the room of pure bliss, the world of heartly laughter to your stupid jokes, the smell of that perfect perfume which, out of all the things have got you hooked to this human being. A little shake and you grab for balance while sitting in loo and look around why am I even here and mumble some random things or two.

While you wash your face, a sudden blast of music draws your attention, you know exactly what it is and now the morning has taken a dive into the deep ocean and there is no reprise. You dress up and come out of your room and find your grandparents sitting in front of the TV in the dinning hall and watching Ramayana at full blast because the grandmother cant hear properly, and on top of that, despite of the high volume your grandfather has to narrate what all is happening, where is Rama in the quest to get his wife back from Ravana. I have seen people talk about how intelligent, a great brahmin he was. Why do people always have to insist on Ravana being a good guy but succumbed to his wrong doings. Anyway you wish them and briskly walk to the terrace overlooking the park outside your house, where sunlight had difficulty touching the grounds pertaining to the huge growth of Neem trees.

Anyway, now is your moment, you grab the morning paper. First page is always depressing, filled with gang rapes, murders, political agitations, scandals, bollywood celebrity complaining of the heat blah blah blah. So you skip a few pages and reach the middle of the paper, where you find your favorite writers and hope that, atleast they have got something for you, to save the day. And as most of the time, they do save your day. Short laughs, interesting facts, and so brilliantly written articles that for a few hours you forget where you are. Though the maid comes along with the breakfast to remind you of the existence of human beings around you, the fact you loath all the time.

here are a few of them which gave me the sunday laughs today. karan thapar , and Indrajit hazra (he’s really amazing) , though occasionally funny but this one was good by Manas Chakravarty. And I think you should just simply order HT on sundays and forget the pain of me reminding you again that how good they all are.

So who are my heroes who saved the day for me, some literary geeks. At times you envy them, on how beautifully they write and bring joy to you. How they make you feel that you are missing onto better things in life which are far away and waiting for you, though most of these dreams only make you feel terrible rather than encourage.

You are lost again, after this momentary high which even proves ecstasy better, giving you a longer high and enveloping you away from the world around you.

Sun gets hotter after a while and you get back to your room hoping to get inspired soon and get back to your work. You know the world awaits you but when you have lost the inspiration the fire which runs the whole show, you cant do anything other than just sit and wait and maybe if got lucky then get invited to a party to take your mind of things around you. Most of your friends think that you are busy doing something good which you always were but least that they know you are sulking in your room doing nothing but watching your ceiling fan move in a motion if you never realized it ever did, that your bed is slightly bent over the edges, that while pressing the navigational keys on the keypad of your laptop for like a hundred times, produces a unique stutter in yakuake ( the drop down KDE konsole) while your fedora is doing a yum update. Watching yum update is probably one of the lamest of things one can do but you dont mind doing it. And people think you are giving too much of your time to photographing world around you, when those n00bs least know that, it doesnt take long to click a picture, picture clicking is alien to what you might be feeling at that time, you see something, the moment, and it all just looks perfect, so you take out the camera and click it. And while you are at it clicking you click more than one picture. As time goes by you are having a pile of pictures to upload to flickr, but you only upload one or two each day, so the process of uploading goes on for a long time and almost everyday. So the moral of the lame photography story to all the lame people who should give more time indulging in their own affair than poking their noses in other’s business that you dont click everyday.