The New Office is Slick! Simply Rawks!
What d'ya think of that?

After reading a Chapter of the Angels and Demons, and being exhausted both mentally and physically after the long walk back home after dinner, I finally decided to surrender to Hypnos

I don't know when Morpheus came over and took control, but he was not very successful, as all I could see was some cardinal burning alive from the episode of the novel. I was there when a shady Illuminatus burnt the cardinal alive, just as he had promised to the media and the world.

It started getting hot, and I realised I was profusely sweating.

"He must be feeling really badly scorched!" I thought.

I wanted to get out of this place and then I heard the crackling of the fire, as clearly as the I could hear the popping blisters on the cardinals toes and posterior.

This was when Morpheus admitted his failure and left me awake. It was hot alright, and I was sweating profusely. Then I realised I was awake and mopping my forehead. I still heard some commotion.

If it was a dream, and there was no real cardinal burning alive, why was I hearing things? I turned around to see a glow like I had never seen. A glow like I had imagined, and it was flickering, huge, and orange. It looked like a bonfire, only it looked like it was 20 feet high! I started all mental permutations and combinations of what could be beyond my dusty windows.

I finally decided this was happening, and I donned a shirt and wore my sandals and was out on the road. They all were there. The glow was illuminating the road to the end. Through my hazy eyes I looked at the source, which was like an oxy-acetylene lamp mounted on a pole, and gave out an orange glow instead of a blue one.

A thick cable burnt away to glory with spine chilling fireworks, and kept an audience of around 20 awe-struck, while others looked on from their distant rooftops. The effect was captivating, and I started contemplating what all should I carry with me if my rented house decides to get consumed.

The fireworks ended with a soft pop, and thankfully a lot before the audience went blind.
Was I alone?
No, I could hear the muffled voices, coughing and some choked. It was just that the luminous fog still hung around my eyes. It was 1:48 PM by my cell phone, and I decided to go back to sleep. I knew power will be out for another couple of hours.

The only things I remember after that is the slight whirring of the AirCooler indicating the power was back, and my alarm blaring in the morning.

"Good Morning. Hope you liked the fireworks arranged at little after midnight, and the stench of the burnt rubber cable."

"Thanks a lot. I am Enlightened!"

Yes, that's what life is!

You either are too excited to finish it before the fizz goes away, or try and relish every drop that travels starting at your throat through the infinitely intertwined intestines, only to realise, that in the process of enjoying it for a longer time, the fizz no longer exists.

The drink is now flat. Monotonous.

You pretend to enjoy it, and always reply "Great!" to the question you dread most:

"How's Life?"

And when your catchphrase for life is "Been there. Done that!", you hear people telling you what you did as a 4^th Grader.

"You know the letter that comes after A?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there's something new that has come up... ever heard of B?"

"B?" It has never been any wierder than this for you.

"Yeah, B. Add another two E's and the letter N! Voila... you have BEEN!"

"BEEN?"

"How's that for a mind-blowing word? You can use it in combination with other words to make a sentence or a Catchphrase! Erm... I thought you knew something about this?"

You are torn between the desire to tear apart your tranquil self and be an exhibitionist demonstrating what you know, screaming at the top of your voice

"Hey you! You Half-wit moron! How about 'Been there. Done That.'!!!???"

or to succumb to the ignorant atrocities of those who are possessed. Possessed with the thought that they possess something that you don't and it's their birthright to educate you about what they always felt you didn't know!

The world is about mediocrity advertising at PrimeTime. People no longer are influenced by PrimeTime... They love the advertisements.

What you can concoct with you cerebral capacity is nothing if you cannot advertise, or you haven't done it yet if you feel you still are on your way to enlightenment, or it's disgusting for you to be an exhibitionist.

"Power is knowing that you can, but you don't" is extinct.

"Power is knowing that the other can, so strangle him." is in.

Try guzzling it down before somebody comes and tells you,

"Hey, that's a Fizzy Drink! Catch a glimpse if you haven't seen one yet!"

Hmm... It tastes Good. Let's see how long the Fizz lasts!

I sent people copies of That Sunday. I got responses, some verbal, some over phone at 64kbps, and others in the form of Anonymous comments.

One friend (who wanted to remain anonymous when I told him I want to discuss his view in the open) was very inquisitive about the whole incident.

After office on our way home, he asked me,
"Haan... Now tell me...from the beginning... What all happened?".

I told him the story all over again, and he absorbed every bit like a sponge.

"You must have been shocked?" he pondered.

"Yes...It was bizarre"

"Hmm...What if you would have let her stay at your place?"

"But it was not required...and it was not a solution to the problem"

"The security and the Police was the best to take care of her"

I had never expected him to show so much concern. It was, if nothing else, a little too surprising, knowing the kind of person he is. And then it dawned on me, and it was correctly complemented with his next expression.

"How was she like? Was she good looking?"

Giving out a subconscious sigh, I went on,
"The face was very innocent, troubled, why, the face when you have lost your way and somebody close to you... It was disturbed."

Justifying his mental schemes with the Come'on-this-is-what-would-be-on-anybody's-mind laughter, he asked,

"Was she fair?... or erm... well..." he was as cautious as one would be while diffusing a bomb. One wrong wire, and everything could be in a mess.

"Why does it make a difference?"

"She had already decided that this is the way things could turn, she was ready for anything assuming she had to bargain something for a refuge...I mean... look from the Point-of-View of a general human being... Why would she ask you, of all the people?"

I faked a smile, trying to make sure the bomb doesn't go off.

"Ah, well..." I raised my eyebrows sarcastically.

"Sorry Amit, I didn't mean it that way. I meant look at it like how the world sees it."

"Why does it have to be an effort NOT to follow? Why can't we NOT belong to a particular mass psychology. Just because the world thinks in a particular fashion, why should you do the same?"

I wished he had seen the face. But, would he really have seen the face at all? Would he not ignore the lamenting face completely?

It's not his mistake. Is he wrong? No.
He is just a personification of the social psychology. He is just a representative.
The difference is that he is just one of the rare few who have an opinion, and honestly admit it. It needs guts to express what he did. Unlike others, who would have been dormant volcanoes, erupting just after a whole village built their houses at its foot.

How if, for a change, each had a mind of their own?

I spent a lot of time at the cyber-cafe near my place. I like the place, as it has an ambience of a den. Calling mummy online was quite an exercise. Calling her up on the landline, to helping her figure out where the Yahoo! Messenger icon was on the destop, to telling her somebody's Yahoo ID and password loud enough to encourage everyone in the cafe try a hand at logging in -- It was quite some effort.

And at the end of the conversation, she tells me to hang on for some time as she had to cook lunch for granny! Whew!
She logged on, spattered some emoticons on the other side, and gradually went on to make some Dal for granny! Uh-gain?

She came over, after quite some time, threw some generic pleasantries and she logged off after some time.

It was 4 hours already, and nearing 4 pm, when I walked out of the den. The heat was on, and I was blinded by the outside light. I must not have walked even half a kilometre that, it started drizzling. As feeble as a creeper's fresh tendril, it was a catalyst to the irritation caused by the soaring temperature and the humidity. I don't know if my mental tantrums reached the weather department or to the big-Shower Department, but it started raining heavily, as strong as the hold of the roots of an 100 year old sycamore tree.

Everybody was scampering around, for a roof, for a shelter for a refuge. I found a tree large enough, with enough leaves so that I have enough time before all the leaves are wet, and the rain begins its attempt to reach me.

There was a village girl (or do I say woman?) standing under the next tree, with a kid. Her cheeks were wet, and when I realised, I understood it was not because of the rain, but something else. She looked tired, and a little shaken.

She preened at me from between the leaves of the tree, and I looked at my surroundings, as I was never used to something like this. I pretended, I was not caught looking at her, and trying to figure out why everything did not look allright.

I looked at the Dhobi and looked at the security guard standing next to his hatch. I was lost in watching the droplets dripping from the roof of his small outfit, when I heard a rustle behind me, and the place was much warmer suddenly.

A cursory glance scanned the tree where I had seen the girl in orange, but she was gone. No. It was almost a shock. She was standing next to me now, and the rustle had come from the crumpled dry leaves on the ground.

She said "Saahab, tumhaara kamaraa kahaan hai?"
I fumbled for words, scavenging my mind to see if I had come across any situation like this before, and the answer was no.
"Woh... Woh... Door hai thoda!"
"Aaj main aapke saath reh loon?"
I couldn't say anything. I just gestured, with one open hand in interrogation, and trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

"Subah Chali Jaaoongi!"
I gestured in a similar fashion again, but managed a few words this time.
"Main akela rehta hoon... Chota ghar hai!... Koi Bangla nahee hai!"

The spattering rain became worse, and I got goosebumps on my skin. Only, I was not sure what had caused these--The rain, the irritating heat, or the utterances of the village girl.

The Dhobi's shed looked inviting in the blinding rain, and I ran in to get there, after some incomprehesible curses at the invisible raingod up in the sky. In the shed, I found a security guard. Before I could concoct something, the girl followed me there, and involuntarily I looked at the security guard and the girl, and again at the security guard. I don't know how, but I was able to pass the message that the security guard was the sole responsible for getting the girl a shelter.

"She has lost her way", said the guard, "and doesn't remember the address of the place she was to get work at... and she has lost her other child somewhere...".

I suddenly recalled how I used to call my friends and tell them "This place is hell!" or "I feel lonely" or "The heat is killing!".

I saw my pains vanishing, I saw them turning to zilch, disappearing into thin air, when the silent lament of the girl (or should I say, patience personified) strangled me to feel what nature had always wanted me to feel.

Involuntarily I said, "Drop her at the Central Office!", where they could reach her easily.
Getting the police in loop was not tough, and the girl and her child are in safe hands now.
By now, the rain was almost gone, as if it had arrived with a purpose, with a reason, with a design.

The sky cleared, and also some cobwebs in my mind. The design is perfect.