In a state of despair over forgetting a day (I believed it was Wednesday today, until the evening) I set about setting things right, as I am doing right now. My process was less of a organized thing, and dependent, rather, on disorganization to have me strike things on my list. Throwing everything down on the bed I set about with 'gaming' myself to a game where one clears the unkempt bed of all these pieces of debris (work-to-do debris) and wins. Childhood still works.
There was plenty, trust me - clothing, a helmet, a book, a lock, a tire, nuts and bolts, a camera, bicycle clamps, an unfinished grand unified theory, a lighter, and THE laptop (which basically means the universal set, but I'm discounting a billion smaller things right now).
In no time was.... my tea ready. Freshly brewed from tea leaves of dubious state and efficacy, that had been located in a pile on the kitchen shelf rather than inside their double-sealed box (thank you, anonymous, for ruining my tea). I don't like wastage, you see; maybe those who live on meager means really are only organized folks who have mastered practicality and minimized wastage to the extent that it defines their nature. With the sad tea about, I achieved my first target in no time: fashioning a camera mount for The Soldier of Fortune homebrew fashion. It looks perfect, but delicate. Next I would be looking to hack into my camera's firmware to program a cycling-friendly mode...
With great weed comes great responsibility. Decimating my leftover plug, I stumbled into preparation for my potential Lansdowne trip this weekend - 200+40km one way, of which plans are to do the 40+40 and another 50 around Lansdowne itself. Knowing Chandresh and Neeraj, I am nervous that their plans will stay firm. Life sucks. Oh, how abused my body has become, and how regressed this neuron-bucket is over the urban memories which are being pushed into the Prefrontal Cortex. The posh city throws sand in my eyes, and I turn back for the dusty village road, the hill, the forest, to feel less noxious.
Trip prep midway, I was disturbed twice at my doorstep... by my AC repairman who had come to collect money, and by the Inverter repairman who first create his value by fixing the damn thing and later collected money. Finances are creeping all around me, it seems.
With the departure of the Inverter repairman I also escaped from my tiny room out in the real world where roads are forever-swaying - if you're sure you aren't - and people merging into brown Labrador dogs, then separating into old men and girls and speaking in unbelievably British accents.
In this fairyland I knew my destination... at the भुट्टावाला's across the S30 gate nearest to my house. I explored a bit, and also stationed in a small preimeter are 2 Fruit vendors (फलवाला) and 2 Fruit Juice vendors (रसवाला, colloq. जूसवाला); all with their Petromax lamps burning bright; little plastic chairs; all of friendly disposition; all who remind you of toil in the sun (and also the need for deoderants); all who have given up the honest smiles of their village childhood and are fighting hard to retain the same on their wives and children.
Well, so, at my भुट्टावाला. I skirt the cart once to estimate his offerings. Being confirmed (sadly) of non-availability of the sand-baked variety of kernels, I proceeded to commission me a roasted one, and a boiled one. The former stood supreme for its Masala layers (this guy keeps 8 or 10 of his condiments at display, from which he prepares his concoction of Neembu Masala) and its disappearing act (owing to my rabid hunger), while the latter would be rememberred for its amazing yield on the first bite that almost made me fight to eat the whole thing (core included). Me and the vendor discussed his process in the meantime: how he starts at 10 in the morning with his kernels in that large tumbler on the stove; how special he sees it as; how I explained to him my realization that it takes nature 2 to 3 months to make something worth Rs7 and how his 6 hours adds Rs8 to it. It was a fantastic realization; that further led me to wonder about the nature of being nature, and nature of being human, which essentially means adding quick value to everything. I guess that is why we prevailed. Nature is the calm of the ocean, man is the turbulence of the waves. Also to imagine is when evolution could add value to these various species itself... birth of the boiled corn; the corn adapts to human needs and then sells itself to our consumption at a premium price. Likewise, we would have little chopped vegetables growing in our garden someday, or seedless melons (wait, aren't they already?)
"आप के पास मेरे पापा का फ़ोन नंबर होगा क्या?" she nervously asks the भुट्टावाला. He has not. One enquiring, it turns out "मेरी दीदी को उधर दो कुत्तों ने पकड़ लिया है और मम्मी भी उधर गयी है |" Pointing to the little guy holding her hand "इसी की तो मम्मी है |" Unlucky woman, being bitten by dogs like that. The word "पकड़" had me a brain flash of trying to help her out, but then I realised that dog incidences only become an incidence when the bite has been planted, and that it was no video game where 2 dogs would be holding a princess in their castle whom I rescue - Goombas and all.
Bitten in resignation, I crossed the now-less-swaying road and got myself the "सफेदा" of the last Rs35 in my pockets, and returned safely to my hermit's overintricate cave at 2110.
Now, at 2137, I feel like some chicken soup. To follow, Safeda. Another coffee. Some bread-cheese.
यात्रियों के लिए एक और सूचना, कृपया ध्यान दें : One of the best and most leisurely dark chocolate that I've had - E. Wendel Maestria 76% - which Dpk got from Poland in May, is sadly over in a fit of fine tasting. Must announce to all sources for more.
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