RAINS ETCETERA

1.55 AM of June 26, 2017 is possibly the same time, the previous day (June 25), the rains debuted. The drizzles of Friday evening, the onslaught of Thursday or the suddenness of Wednesday stood nowhere closer to what ensued last night; continued to surprise till today afternoon. Rains, we thought are here. But by 1.55 AM of June 26, 2017 the show put up by the rains lack the ferocity, velocity and audacity of last night.

Did the earth hatch a conspiracy to attract rains? Is this then the annual moment of romance? Speaking of romance, I can only think of Raveena Tandon causing Yellow Fever in Tip tip barsaa paani (Akshay Kumar literally rolling and drooling around her).

Thankfully no political party has claimed responsibility for the instant burst of happiness insured by these rains.  Thankfully no terrorist groups have threatened of being in secret possession of weapons, which can trigger massive rains at the drop of a hat.

At this interesting juncture, I think rains come with their own package of etcetera (etc.).

As the rains swell, the pulse rate of Mumbai’s local train network drops. Even though the spirits of travellers and train spotter updaters like me fly high, the trains prefer to take it easy. This being one part of the package, we aren’t downplaying the possibilities of traffic snarls. Many of us blame it on the rains. But these snarls are necessary during monsoons. Or else air and noise pollution won’t breed. Would we really like to see them fail at producing their usual off springs of anguish, irritability and disasters?    

Trees are the permanent subscribers of rains package of etcetera. They keep on putting weight all year long. Just when they expect the municipal authorities to help them tone their body a little, their trust is left betrayed. So when the rains descend they activate the package and start falling on cars, humans, electricity cables, telephone wires and at times on themselves.

When rains dwindle, I am reminded of the seminars on climate change. I love the venues, the speakers, their sessions and the hosts who keep pouting at television cameras. If the talks held in these seminars are real, do they also work towards decreasing the impact of etcetera?

Thirty minutes into writing this and the rains have retracted. But mind you, the package of etcetera hasn’t.

I heard the dogs bark and see them running in pursuit of a hefty catch? I only hope they don’t spare its life. Because if they do, the rains might make it rot and the package of etcetera might grow hefty. We may have to pay an extra premium of tolerating the strange stench. Dogs are illiterate. They only understand the language of love and the unconditional freedom to poop.

The rains will recuperate; we can hope at least. The package of etcetera though requires rethinking.

Till it rains again, I am thinking of ordering etcetera online (much before GST slaps in).

-Virtuous Vociferous

THE ENTRAPMENTS OF DOMESTIC LIFE

All this while, the tasteless mind has been plagued by questions. These sharp-edged questions keep protruding out like active ulcers on passive skin. Causing anguish, demeaning desires, these questions compel us to probe deep into a proverb, which reads: PURPOSE FUELS PASSION. In a life as domestic as ours, the ‘purpose’ seems to have gone missing.

The sun is yet to come to life. The alarm goes off at 5 AM sharp. Switching off the AC, crawling out of the bed, contracting and expanding the eyes, inhaling the remains of last night and exhaling the so called depravity of sleep; we tell ourselves, “Wake up, time to go”. The door leads to the bathroom, the bathroom gives way to the washbasin, the washbasin sports a hefty tap, which we turn on and push a toothbrush deep inside to help us sport a million dollar smile, cavity free jawline, fresh breath (in case, smooching tops the agenda). After the residues of the previous night’s half-digested food finds a way down the flush, we are equally free to declare ourselves ‘Fresh’.

Postponing the bath, we sprint towards the kitchen; boil a glassful of water, slice a lemon into two, undo the lid of Baba Ramdev’s Patanjali honey and consume it to make a statement, “We are health conscious”. It is 5:40 AM by now, we decide to embark on an excursion of a home that belongs to us, exploring deep corners, which hide in them a dead cockroach, a group of paralyzed mosquitoes, a nano crew of marching ants and a spider busy spreading a web to trap them all. Sorry we are in no mood to give these pests a free hand; we pull out the broom, rescue them from the circle of life and death and release them dead or alive straight into the dustbin. Thereafter we continue with the broom, trying not to fly on it but sweeping the floors and other surfaces. By 6 AM, we are out. Huffing, puffing and sweating heavily. This part is globally known as ‘Physical Workout’. By 6:45 AM, we are back to wake up the other members of the home. The God, the wife, the mother, the washing machine, the gas oven and the milk over it, the refrigerator and of course the music system.

The wife and the mother have got their own agendas to chase. If wife and mother are both professionals, boarding the 8:45 AM Mumbai Fast tops the list. Prior to that the moral responsibility of cooking a storm keeps them engaged. Oh shit, it is 8:15 AM. If we don’t leave now, the train (even though starting from where we stay) might get crowded. We run down all the staircase, blow the horn to signal our concern over a supposed delay in making. The wife follows in 50:50 makeup; the rest of it will be taken care of in the train. While we are busy finding a parking space, the wife is already running for the train. We run, board the train and curse those who opt for a return journey from the station prior to ours. The train comes to a halt, the wife alights somewhere else. After we alight, we take a look at the watch and release a sigh of relief. This part is officially known as ‘the train is running on time’.

Humping and thumping we reach our offices, welcomed by the security guard at the reception, we sign in and traverse smoothly through the biometric passage. We settle down and start fondling with the PC, Laptop, Tablet and IPad that serves as our connection to the outside world. This part is universally called ‘being in office’. Till lunch hour, we try to figure out what are we supposed to do. We make phone calls to our loved ones to know their statuses; has the wife reached her office safely? Did mother have her breakfast? What is the bank balance for today? Boss comes in, doesn’t smile, doesn’t react, doesn’t interact and then we scream out ‘communication gap’. Post the lunch hour, we associate ourselves with some menial tasks, which fail to make us feel proud; we gape, we ape, we yawn, we curl and by the time our mind starts concentrating on the tasks at hand, it is it time to leave. Leaving office on time is considered sin in an advertising agency (or perhaps the advertising industry). The moment, we decide to pack up, the client servicing team members come hunting for us. We step out, our phones ring, we are requested to come back to the office and there we are fondling with computer again. Time doesn’t stand still, decisions are postponed, feedback never shared; frustrated and irritated, we call it a day. This part is called ‘finally out of office’.

Once again we are at the station, waiting impatiently for the train to arrive. Even though the indicator predicts an arrival within three minutes, many a times, the train seems to have disappeared. The train arrives, we barge in; finding a seat is a rare opportunity if at all we board the train from another destination rather than the point of its origin. We get back to the destination, we started from in the morning. And once again, we are back home. We bathe, we refresh and we settle down for dinner. We switch on the television, make an attempt to stay up late to catch a movie, we had long heard about but never thought of watching. The eyes start trembling, beg for sleep and naturally we are back to the bed again. The AC is switched on and there we are, indulged in sleep, lost in nightmares and getting lost somewhere, before the alarm rings again.

Days and nights fade, we follow the same routine. Then comes a day when we ask, “What is the purpose we are pursuing in our lives?”

A long silence ensues.

Purpose lost, purpose gained; only this time, it is not the one…we had been thinking about!

-Virtuous Vociferous