A stumbling stream of consciousness

It’s amazing what habit and change can do. I finally stepped out of my suburban-whorish-residential colony after what has been 3 weeks (?), for there was stuff to be done (and no, I don’t mean drugs), which could no longer be postponed. Thus, after being so frustratingly acclimatized to my damp mouldy room and the indomitable construction cacophony, it felt somewhat weird being out in the open among strange fellow citizens of this delightfully dreadful city. Weird, and yet wonderful; the precise state of mind is as always difficult to capture in words. Maybe it was something to do with the weather, which was just about perfect except for the slush all around; the kind of weather which makes one fall in love with Delhi. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that I was revisiting childhood haunts; or maybe, my solitude is indeed trying to push me over the cliff, for all of it seemed distant and surreal, with me being in the thick of it and yet inexplicably detached (perhaps, I’m getting closer to my dream of attaining pure objectivity) – it was like being inside an impressionist novel with just about everything sparking off vague connections, followed by a flurry of associations and then finally, a snowballing monster of reminiscences. And I mean everything – an electric pole, a mynah, buildings, urchins – yes, just about everything which seemed to catch the intruding eye.

Thus, I walked, and yet again, I managed to make it back alive after ticking off everything on the to-do list (yes, it’d seem a trifle to most, but those who live in a daze would know the feeling, the feeling when such mundane everyday-life routines feel like an impossible mission). And so I kept walking, I walked till a familiar knot in the stomach made its presence felt, and then I walked some more – the simple physical aspect of it was so soothingly cathartic that I didn’t even realize it at the time.

Open spaces, we tend to take them for granted, don’t we? Even though, we see them disappear with each passing day, it doesn’t really register, does it? Well, today it did, when I happened to gaze at a long rising flyover up ahead, which at the time happened to be running somewhat scarce, juxtaposed against the glorious September sky – a sky filled with hues of red, green, blue and orange – a sight so exhilarating that I actually felt a rush, a minor spasm redolent of a lysergic spine-tingle, which for a few moments shook me out of my pot-induced sedation, to an onslaught of sheer thought, an overwhelming stream of consciousness – and right amidst a sea of myriad faces which didn’t seem to give a damn anyway, about anything.

The fuckin’ collective and yet again the defeatist cynicism – why do we even bother putting ourselves through this pathetic struggle called life, who don’t we just end it? I don’t, for I believe I have found a true purpose and of course, I’m afraid, and not to forget, obligated; what’s your excuse? Seriously, what’s your excuse for existing?

And then, by the time it was dark, it had started drizzling and I was atop a footbridge, watching (as I love to) the never-ending flow of machines underneath – maggots crawling forward, maggots with headlights! A mild epiphany of sorts; it’s visions such as these which tend to jolt one out a microcosm and drive home the absolute enormity of it all; really, why are we doing this to ourselves (or in hindsight, why is it so tough to find such good ganja these days)?

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NOTE: Up ahead - Generalizations galore!

Autowallahs shall remain autowallahs, they’re a different breed altogether. After a few weeks respite thanks to the monstrous increase in fare-rates, they’re back to their usual assholisms. It’s back to the same old story:

“Bhai, meter kharaab hai”

“Bhainchod, fir latka ke kyun rakha hai?”

Yes, I don’t say that, I just end up moving on or negotiating further, but the point is their natural greed is insatiable. However, the funny part is that usually their math is even worse than mine. They end up quoting an upfront price, which often ends up being lesser than what the official ‘new’ fare would have been. So yes, most dark clouds have a silver lining, and to further assert the same, here’s another instance.

In the utterly vapid throes of ennui, I did a google image search on ‘anal warts’ (don’t ask me why, I really don’t know what made me do it). Yes, apart from the thoroughly disgusting non-surprise, I ended up discovering quite an interesting comic strip – random, eccentric and egregious humour – just the way I like it. And, to get me further interested enough to make these observations, the link landed up on a particular strip with a Jesus joke. And yes, I love Jesus jokes, I have a few of my own too (it’s probably something to do with all the dogmatic gospel sessions I had to endure in my school). So anyway here’s the particular strip.

http://www.heresy.com/wp-images/057-jesus-anal-warts.gif

As for the main website it’s http://www.hyperdeathbabies.com/

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I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the world would be a much better place without rock pigeons! They poop everywhere, make annoying dumb sounds, shed too many feathers and above all, they’re so dumb that they can’t find their way out once they enter a room. They’d have definitely been on the path to dodo-dom had it not been for their notorious breeding skills. The only probable redeeming features of theirs are their glistening necks, but then, mere aesthetics cannot justify the existence of such stupidity. Yes, I hate them! Perhaps, it’s my phobia (?) of flapping wings but yes, if anyone ever wanted to kill me, here’s a good idea: Put me in a small room with half-a-dozen fluttering pairs of wings and I’ll probably die of a heart attack.

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Whew!

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Words suck, they claim to describe and define, but they never really can!