I think there's certain irony to my blog title. At some point of time, I had changed it from "Travel Travails" to the current title. Not once, however, have I found myself rambling about days in my life. I'm all for rambling, but in the normal course of events, none of it manages to make it to the blog in it's purest form. I usually manage to camouflage it under some garb. In the light of some recent events, each worth reporting, but not deserving of a post by itself, I thought I'd go and talk about some days in my life.
Today:
I woke up from my afternoon nap (a habit from childhood which refuses to desert me) feeling rather disoriented. The primary reason being that it had turned dark by the time I got up. That tells me winter is near. Which means that the weather is going to get better, the food is going to taste better, women will look prettier. Good times ahead! That's once the gods stop having that bachelor party in their basement (an old reference) and the haze subsides.
Yesterday:
I watched Ravana burn from my sixth floor balcony. The fireworks display went on for over an hour. No fire tenders or even extinguishers on standby, but then Ram in all his benevolence shall protect us from any burning embers that reach where they're assumed not to. Everyone around seemed to have fun, so did I. As I watched from the distance, I saw that the applause was relentless even as some of the fireworks detonated well before their designated altitude. It was after a long time that I'd seen the whole evil-burning process. I remember that as a kid, I would accompany my mother to the local park to watch the event and feel depressed. Depressed, not because I was a Satan worshipping kid of some sort, but because at the end of four days of visiting various Durga Puja congregations and filling up my stomach with whatever muck I could lay my hands on, Dussehra had a finality to it. It was like the morning after Diwali, or the day after your birthday. Then again, I think there are so many "it's all over" days in a given year that it's better we don't mope on them for longer than a few hours. This Durga Puja however was one from the years gone by. A little to early in the calendar I feel, but the pandals were where they should be and so was the muck. Good times.
Later in the evening, the newsflash about the Air India pilots' strike appeared on TV. Allow me to put a human face to this side of the story. My mother works for Air India. And it's quite a struggle working there these days. It's almost like being a daily wage employee. For one, an expression of honest opinion at this point of time could be trouble for any employee. But in all the mismanagement of years gone by and measures to control the damage that has been caused and is probably still being caused behind the scenes, there are employees with families who are hanging in the balance. Here's hoping that the crisis gets resolved soon.
Day Before Yesterday:
Some days usually overflow into the next, as far as storytelling goes. Typically, these are days that involve alcohol (hopefully the latter part of the day). Night before last, two friends and I had a little Tequila party. We then made the mistake of going out to dinner to a place right opposite our school. Not just that, we had four others joining us. Simple math would show that the table had an approximate drunk-sober ratio of about 44%. That grey area in between is dangerous. That just means that the remaining 56% will remember what you won't, and your perception of reality (as a headache rips your cranium into pieces the next morning) is what the aforementioned 56% tells you. My advice to all my readers is to ensure that you're as close to 0 or 100 % when you dine with company. All or nothing, black or white. Always a good policy in life. Anyway, should you ask me, I'd tell you that the night went off without incident. Next afternoon, I called up J to ask him if some damage control needed to be done. J belonged the 56% lot last night, and managed to convince me that there was an eve-teasing incident involving me the previous night where I apparently whistled at some girl and M had to do some damage control (which is why I wasn't languishing in the local lock-up). That's funny, because M (who has a penchant for drawing entertainment from my misery) was very slightly less drunk than I was and would need a miracle to prevent me from getting indicted. I killed myself over the incident for about half an hour (for eve-teasing is really not my thing, not even sub-consciously) whilst trying to call M, who was nursing his own little hangover. M confirmed that while this was a rather interesting proposition, he had no memory of it. On my next call to J, frantic swearing ensued and he finally admitted that he should have spoken to M to make the prank work. This is the first time I've been pranked in years, and alcohol is the reason.
Am I going to propound prohibition on my blog? No. But next time, do ensure that everyone else is drunk before you are. It earns you some bad karma, but you can take care of it in your next life.
Some days in my life are manufactured to add joy to some days in yours.
Today:
I woke up from my afternoon nap (a habit from childhood which refuses to desert me) feeling rather disoriented. The primary reason being that it had turned dark by the time I got up. That tells me winter is near. Which means that the weather is going to get better, the food is going to taste better, women will look prettier. Good times ahead! That's once the gods stop having that bachelor party in their basement (an old reference) and the haze subsides.
Yesterday:
I watched Ravana burn from my sixth floor balcony. The fireworks display went on for over an hour. No fire tenders or even extinguishers on standby, but then Ram in all his benevolence shall protect us from any burning embers that reach where they're assumed not to. Everyone around seemed to have fun, so did I. As I watched from the distance, I saw that the applause was relentless even as some of the fireworks detonated well before their designated altitude. It was after a long time that I'd seen the whole evil-burning process. I remember that as a kid, I would accompany my mother to the local park to watch the event and feel depressed. Depressed, not because I was a Satan worshipping kid of some sort, but because at the end of four days of visiting various Durga Puja congregations and filling up my stomach with whatever muck I could lay my hands on, Dussehra had a finality to it. It was like the morning after Diwali, or the day after your birthday. Then again, I think there are so many "it's all over" days in a given year that it's better we don't mope on them for longer than a few hours. This Durga Puja however was one from the years gone by. A little to early in the calendar I feel, but the pandals were where they should be and so was the muck. Good times.
Later in the evening, the newsflash about the Air India pilots' strike appeared on TV. Allow me to put a human face to this side of the story. My mother works for Air India. And it's quite a struggle working there these days. It's almost like being a daily wage employee. For one, an expression of honest opinion at this point of time could be trouble for any employee. But in all the mismanagement of years gone by and measures to control the damage that has been caused and is probably still being caused behind the scenes, there are employees with families who are hanging in the balance. Here's hoping that the crisis gets resolved soon.
Day Before Yesterday:
Some days usually overflow into the next, as far as storytelling goes. Typically, these are days that involve alcohol (hopefully the latter part of the day). Night before last, two friends and I had a little Tequila party. We then made the mistake of going out to dinner to a place right opposite our school. Not just that, we had four others joining us. Simple math would show that the table had an approximate drunk-sober ratio of about 44%. That grey area in between is dangerous. That just means that the remaining 56% will remember what you won't, and your perception of reality (as a headache rips your cranium into pieces the next morning) is what the aforementioned 56% tells you. My advice to all my readers is to ensure that you're as close to 0 or 100 % when you dine with company. All or nothing, black or white. Always a good policy in life. Anyway, should you ask me, I'd tell you that the night went off without incident. Next afternoon, I called up J to ask him if some damage control needed to be done. J belonged the 56% lot last night, and managed to convince me that there was an eve-teasing incident involving me the previous night where I apparently whistled at some girl and M had to do some damage control (which is why I wasn't languishing in the local lock-up). That's funny, because M (who has a penchant for drawing entertainment from my misery) was very slightly less drunk than I was and would need a miracle to prevent me from getting indicted. I killed myself over the incident for about half an hour (for eve-teasing is really not my thing, not even sub-consciously) whilst trying to call M, who was nursing his own little hangover. M confirmed that while this was a rather interesting proposition, he had no memory of it. On my next call to J, frantic swearing ensued and he finally admitted that he should have spoken to M to make the prank work. This is the first time I've been pranked in years, and alcohol is the reason.
Am I going to propound prohibition on my blog? No. But next time, do ensure that everyone else is drunk before you are. It earns you some bad karma, but you can take care of it in your next life.
Some days in my life are manufactured to add joy to some days in yours.
