Boozy Sleep

I miss Bangalore.

8 PM. My time to leave office. The feeling of self scrutiny was never leaving me alone. I liked those moments, because I just never wanted to be happy and live a happy day. Somehow, it didn’t feel right when everything went smooth for me. There are many reasons to be sick of yourself when you think all these things.

I got out of the office, took a bus, scanned the QR, paid 6 INR for my stop. Didn’t care if the Conductor checked it or not. Stood near the door resting myself on the railing, noticed a couple of beautiful girls in innocence. The next moment, I’d realize that I commit a gruesome sin and put my eyes down. I got off at my stop, crossed the road, wondered why in the world a speeding car never came and did its job. Had a usual look at the ribs of pig in the pork shop and the fat uncle with bald shining head. Who always sat doing nothing, maybe also barely making any dough for te day. Saw another beautiful girl once again, thought that she might of my age but next moment I realize that there might rarely be 19 year old teenage girls working like I am doing. Gave up.

Walked on my own again, probably listening to Pearl Jam, Linkin Park or anything which felt nice. Felt a bit brave at some times while walking. The crew t-shirt I wore some how changed my body language. I’d often feel happy about owning that crazy expensive output of threads knit together. Walk through the most boring patch where the dust was gruesome always. One left turn and I’m in heaven. AECS Layout, the expensive locality where I was renting a studio apartment. During March, adored the locality, told myself, “I want to buy a house here, raise my kids with books, debates, opinions, common sins and something different every day. They need to learn flying”. I got home, took a shower, cleaned the house, mopped the floor while listening to “One Last Breath” by Creed. Wore my hoodie, plugged in ear monitors, and walked out for dinner.

I liked eating dosa, I was also bored of eating it, but it was fun to eat it every day from a different shop. Reached the nearest shop, bought a Dosa. Ate it while listening to a kannada song which my mom played when I was a young lad. Wondered if people looked at me, but still ended up eating freely. Bought a 15rs Coke, gulped it while sitting on the bench outside the shop. Looked at all the walking fleshes, some beautiful, some lonely, some sad, some begging, some cleaning, some serving, some this, some that, some this, some that. Though, my locality had a lot of couples. I dreamed that I’ll someday have a girlfriend and dreamed that we’ll live together for a while, talk about Franz Kafka and all the weird things which came out of conflict in our thoughts. Listen to Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker and write about the most exceptional thing in the world, maybe, who knew ? we could’ve done that. Talk to her as if she is reading an Open Book, surrender myself to her and feel like a bluebird. Came back to reality, saw a couple of glistening cheeks, ate a piece of bread and jam in Iyengar’s. On the way back, wondered why I bury myself in so many questions just for a piece of Bun and Butter. Got home, write, work, waste time, try to sleep, nothing worked ? I’d go out at 1 AM, with earphones plugged, listening to Linkin Park, system of a down, or even Gibson Girl. Enjoyed my time walking ruthlessly even when my legs started talking with me. See the usual guy who came out at 2 AM for a puff of cigarette, and stood under the street light. I imagined that I’ll go to him and ask for a puff, if he’s fine to have my lips on his cigarette. But, never did that actually, thinking I’ll go addict.

3 AM, try to write something crazy or even a poem, and feel the pseudo-nascency. Got out of the spiral, stabbed it with full force in the heart. Got into bed, stared at the darkness till my eyes were used to it and the light spread evenly all around. Saw the clouds outside the window, passing by with a lot of speed because of the southern winds. Put on some songs which evoked. Whatever, it had to evoke to make me free from myself. Oftentimes, G# (g-sharp) hit the right note, always. The pillow knew it all, because it always saw everything and handled the weight of stone. In the idleness of each thought, I swept into that Boozy sleep.