Monday, June 23, 2008

Good Advices

The phone rings. It seems to be ringing in the dream I am watching, but it keeps ringing and I’m finally taken away from imagery paradise...

“Hello?”

“Dude, sorry to wake you up at this hr”

If he had said ‘Were you sleeping?” I would have sent a bullet through the airwaves

I recognize the caller

“What’s the matter?”

“Well, I need some advice”

“At this hour? You need some sleep “

“Had it been any other hour, I would have asked for much more”

He says it so matter of fact that I’m taken aback for a second. Oh that’s so generous of you, I think in my mind.

"Shoot”


“Ok. Well..Umm..I have this friend who is new to Pune and he and some friends wanted to know if it was safe to go to Station at this hour... and they stay in Kalyaninagar, kinda inside, so and some of them are in town just for a couple of days you know”

“Have you fallen on your head? Did a bat suck the living wisdom out of you??” It’s ..it’s ( check my watch) 2:40 in the night man!!!” “You are asking the worst...this is not even an advice that you are asking!? I’m not a bloody nightwatchman to be bothered about the nocturnal safe places of visit in the city!

(I’m screaming in a low voice, and it bothers the dog; he gives me a look of tired hopelessness)

“What I wanted your opinion on, is something else”

“ I hope you don’t want to know which particular bakery or tea stall they should visit at 3 am, cause most of the tea stalls don’t have sign boards and I would recommend the Viceroy bakery...can I sleep now?”

“It’s about this girl...well she is with them, and I like her! I know it sounds a bit weird, and well right now I’m headed towards where they are staying, in Kalyaninagar, kinda inside I told you...anyway, so I have my bike and she might ride with me...and I just ...I need an opening”

“An opening?”


“I did break ice in the day when we were together”

(Where did two of you go to break ice, the Alps?) I didn’t say it out loud cause between a good joke and sleep, always go for sleep - you can laugh in your dreams...but this bugger friend of mine was not letting me of the hook just yet.

“that’s grand”

(silence on the other end”)

“Take her to..ummm...Khadakwasla. It’s almost full moon tonight...the lake and moonlight, she by your side etc etc...or go and sit at some secluded place like the Z bridge near Decaan “ (What the hell am I saying!?)


“Well, I was thinking more about your place”


“(upright in the bed)what about my place?”

“Like I can bring her there and we will sit in your balcony and talk till the daybreak”


“Are you crazy? Have you completely lost your already evaporating mind? I’ve a dog, dirty laundry and oh, A DAY TOMORROW!!! No way!”


“ Look, simple advice, don’t get your hopes high...go to Station...have some tea and pastries...take her on a ride...you know the city like no other punk, and just roam around...make conversation. Where is she from by the way?”

Goa

Goa? Hmmm exotic...”

“Just go there and things will happen, that’s the best I can tell you...I’m no Don Juan you know it” (not feeling too proud saying that)


“Are you there?”


“Yes...ok.I’ll see..I’ll try not to mess it up...thanks for talking”


“Relax and just be cool man. Don’t think about the mess, cause you don’t have anything to mess. Be spontaneous”

“Spontaneous”

“Yes”

“Ok. I’ll see you in the morning”

“Hehe...No. I don’t think so. My day will be late by atleast a couple of hours, so ...until some solid double digit hours...goodbye. Take it easy”

“Yeah sure”

I’m back in my bed. This was random, quite so, I mean the conversation. It didn’t make any sense and in the end, I’m damn sure it didn’t help him. It did make me wonder about a certain profession, suddenly. I don’t know why about this particular profession that I found a similarity between it and the conversation I just had:

Is this what consultants do?

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

The chronicles of loneliness

Lying in the twin sized bed, he is wondering, with a single pillow under his single head. The song is talking about someone on a similar bed, with a similar pillow under a similar head.

He is not alone, he is lonely.

He is inside his dark room, tucked away beneath the dark corridors which only his eyes can see. They are inside him, the corridors, in the morose corner of his mind.

He is longing for a perspective, a view above the horizon. He is not interested in the dark side of the moon, but that’s what he is been getting. He is tired of bits and pieces coming his way.

He is riding an ending spiral. The lights in the room are lit, but he can’t see anything. He is blinded by the sight. His heart is like a window pane after a rain shower, smeared by raindrops, which eventually leave behind the smear marks.

It is no one’s fault. The seats were already taken when he wished to sit. He doesn’t mind standing, as long as there is someone standing by him.

In his head there are only echoes and remains. of friends and lovers, as if they really made his day someday.

He writes to be reached, but the lines are down always.