When the New Word Document open in front of you continues to be just as empty as your Virtual Memory…
When you know there’s tons of data in your Random Access Memory but your CPU refuses to process it for the benefit of the New Word Document…
When your Keyboard seems to be missing just the letters that the New Word Document would like to show off…
When your Mouse wants to play Tom and Jerry with you – and you, the Tom, keep losing, even though Jerry has no place to hide on the wide open New Word Document…
When your Monitor is tired of looking at your pointless blank face, and agitated at being a partner in the crime of scribbling nonsense on the stupid New Word Document…
When the Internet is mean enough to connect you to a friend who is just not friendly enough to give you some help for the biggest waste of a New Word Document…
When the New Word Document smiles wryly and says to you, “Are you done, Ms. Writer? Do you think I’m ready to join the trash on the World Wide Web? Or you’d rather make me a little trashier yet?”
Ans. I guess you should do what I did… Forgive the New Word Document, for it is not its fault that your Operating System has decided to throw a tantrum today!
I’ve discovered a magic therapy. Of late, many times (if not most of the times), I have seen and experienced it working wonderfully on myself. And I believe it has got to be effective if it can help someone with symptoms of hereditary Clinical Depression.
That reminds me. Over two years ago, when I was visiting a psychologist regularly for my certifications, she had told me quite clearly that I had a tendency to develop a mild Clinical Depression, especially since it has been being passed on, on my mother’s side, particularly amongst the women. She had advised me to keep psychiatric help accessible, especially through the most important forthcoming period of 3-4 years in my life. A lot was going to happen and even though it was all for the good, there was no guarantee of the period itself being good.
And surely, there were times when I would wish to skip life on particular days. I’d be desperate to find a way to just jump to the next day, or to somehow discover an Invisibility Cloak and simply carry on with life without having to undergo the pressure of being SEEN. How I wished that nobody would see me, nobody would look at me, that people could just see past me, like I was nothing but a molecule of air.
Today, however, I don’t see the point in thinking or talking about those days. Yes, they made me stronger, braver and all that, but today, I also wish I had tried the magic therapy in those days. But then, I didn’t know about it then. Well, actually, perhaps I did. Perhaps all of us do, because it is one of the earliest story lessons of our lives, but we forget about it. We grow up seeing most of the people around us complaining, cribbing and self-pitying; and somewhere along the way, we unknowingly learn it and make it our way of life too.
It’s simple. It’s the lesson we all learnt from the story of the poor man who didn’t have shoes, who went to the church to complain to God, and there, saw a man who was thanking God, even though he did not have legs.
About a month back, on NDTV, I happened to watch a special report on a 2 feet tall man, who was born without legs, without arms, without speech and hearing abilities. All you could see was a tiny torso and a little face. But what was most striking about that face was an absolute absence of complaint on it. The report showed the man going through all his daily activities by himself without any help whatsoever. And I found myself wondering whether it was right of me to make myself hopeless and helpless when there is such a vast landscape of hope and possibility in the world.
These days, when I am morose and basically carrying out an eternal crib-fest, I try to remember this man’s courage in the face of the cruel fate meted out to him by nature. And invariably, I find myself feeling guilty for not thinking above just my own self.
It is not always possible to think of another, when you’re busy thinking of the ‘unfairness’ of life you’re dealing with. It is only possible when there is that little spark existent somewhere deep inside you – the spark of a genuine desire to rid yourself off pain, the desire to be happy. I have a feeling that I just might be igniting that tiny spark inside me these days, that I might be succeeding in letting it prevail…
This spark which is gradually making me believe that despite all the flaws that I might be made up of, I’m likeable… because I like myself, I love myself, I want myself to be happy, and not on the parameters of the world, but on the scales of happiness that I have to define for my own self.
I wake up early and confirm to myself the plans for the day, plans – that I have been making since yesterday – will go shopping today, will meet Massi today, will watch a new movie today! Finally, a day when I’m not going to work and not even stay at home!
A nice long soothing wonderful shower starts the day. I wash my hair at length and pamper them with the lovely mint-flavoured conditioner I have recently discovered at my aunt’s!
With luxurious applications of a world of body lotions – varying from Peach to Plum to even Tea-flavoured – I let myself smell like an orchard, and revel in the concoction of fragrances that I have become.
Mmm… It’s just 10 am… A little too early to step out. Besides, my hair is wet. I’ll let it dry and catch a little nap right under the fan, wake up in an hour and by then, it would be the perfect time to start with the PLANS!
I spread the wet minted-hair on the bed, cover myself with the blanket and shut my eyes, loving the bundle of fragrances the blanket has become, thanks to me!
I half wake up, take my hand out of the blanket, touch my hair and realize that it is still moist. It can’t have been long since I slept. The hand comes back into the blanket and I go back into my fragrant sleep.
I half wake up, and begin to take my hand out of the blanket to touch my hair again, but vaguely realize that it seems to be going towards my tummy instead. “Grumble”, says the stomach, and I wake up with a start. The aromas seem distant and dying.
I push the blanket away to look at the clock. 3.30, it says! I’ve been sleeping for 5 hours! My hair is all dry and crumpled. Thankfully, it does still smell of mint. I don’t smell of fruits and orchards though. I just smell of sleep. My face is inflated and distorted. My plans are deflated and distorted.
I’m hungry – extremely hungry!! I haven’t eaten a thing since dinner last night, and there’s nothing cooked at home right now. I pick up one of the only two options available, and finish the half-eaten packet of Haldiram’s Kaju mixture. Clean!
“Grumble”, my stomach still says. Hence, I pick up the second option – the pack of Hide-and-Seek biscuits – and finish it clean too, while watching crap after crap on TV.
5 pm – Should I go out now? Should I not? I can’t meet Massi or go for a film alone now – it would get too late to come back alone. I can still go shopping though. And I can get myself some nice inexpensive dinner packed while coming back. Should I? Should I not?...... Doorbell!
Of all the options of days available in the week, the maid has chosen this particular day to perform her weekly duties towards this house. And so, for the next hour or so, as she cleans every nook and corner with utmost dedication, I carry on watching crap after crap on TV, including a film which has a younger-looking Akshaye Khanna with some hair still intact on his head repeating every 10 minutes of the film, “Agar mere dil mein eeshvar hai, agar mere dil mein sachchai hai, to woh mere paas zaroor aayegi”. I watch and hear him say that every time until the end when… surprise surprise! Ms. Aishwarya Rai does goes back running to him after all!
As I say Bye to the maid at the door, I can see that the world outside the door is getting dark already. I can’t go shopping.
Now? I can go take a walk in the Botanical Garden in the vicinity. While coming back, I can go to the market and pick up a packet of Maggi noodles.
I step out and head towards the garden. I can’t believe how totally dark it has become in the 5 minutes I took to struggle with my messy hair before coming out. I’m not accustomed to this area, and the absolute absence of human beings on the long stretch of the dimly lit road makes me unnerved. It doesn’t help that within 2 minutes, three different automobiles with three different sets of men in them pass by me and slow down right next to me to take a good look.
I turn back and head towards the house. On my way, I call up Domino’s and ask them for their cheapest pizza option available. I keep sitting on a slab outside the house waiting for the promised Pizza and counting the minutes, since it is Domino’s.
30 minutes have elapsed, and I don’t know whether to feel happy or sad that the Delivery boy is still not here. It means I am getting the pizza free. I do wish I had placed a big order and included Garlic Breadsticks and the Cheesy Dip and all the other yummy side-dishes. But I am not sure whether I should ask for the pizza free. I have been told that the delivery boys, when they’re late, start begging you to pay them, else the money would be deducted from their salary. If he does that, there’s no way I can’t not pay him. So, I call up the Domino’s number again to tell them directly that their delivery is late. I am told that there is no guarantee of 30 minutes in my area! It makes no difference to me… I say, “Oh, okay… May be you should have told me that at the time of taking the order.”
The delivery comes 40 minutes after this. I make the payment, take the Cheese & Tomato Regular Pizza, go inside the house, turn on the TV, realize that both the Oregano Seasoning packets are torn and empty and eat the bland cold Pizza while watching some more crap on TV.
The pizza over, I take my pills, change the channel, watch the entire length of one of the really cheap and funny multi-starrer Hindi films released of late and find myself laughing…
The cellphone hasn’t buzzed much all day. Not many people in the world needed me today, except yes, two friends - one of them calling to let me talk, and the other calling to talk. I talked in one call and listened in the other, although I don't think I remember much of either.
Now, the cellphone buzzes. An SMS. I reply, turn off the lights and turn myself into the blanket. A distant ghost of the ‘orchard’ engulfs me and I shut my mind before I shut my eyes. Thinking is not allowed… Sleep, Sleep, Sleep, Don’t think, Just Sleep… Don’t think… Just sleep, sleep… Just…
Monsoon is the most beautiful of all weathers, and yet, it could be the most devastating.
I have just about stepped out of the scorching Summer, and am all set to discover the many shades in the rainbow, this Monsoon of my life.
In hope of merry winds, clear waters and limitless lush green valleys...
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