Mondays can be good only if you are not working. Finally, you have five days of your "me" time when you do whatever the hell you want! But if you are working, you can pray that your boss is on leave (yeah right, like that'll happen!). Aah, sometimes I wonder what a privilege not-having-a-job could be, but then, you know, too much of sitting around could be...ehh bad for me? Oh what the hell, there could be nothing like it! I'd sleep and sleep, I'd eat to my heart's content and grow fat (of course, never look at a mirror), I'd read, might even become a writer (who knows?), I'd watch a lot of movies and criticize them, I'd pass nonsensical judgement over people, I'd go for singing classes and yes, I'd take up gardening. What say? Too much?
Anyway, so this is what it is - my blah working Monday! Did I want to get up from my comfy bed? Hell no! In fact, my half-asleep brain was praying for one of these at 8 in the morning:
- a bout of fever
- a sprain
- a Bharat bandh
- a natural calamity
- an extraterrestrial invasion
- a surprise visit from my parents (sob!)
And what did I get? An autorickshaw strike. Yes.
We all know that Mr. Edward A. Murphy, Jr. had resolved to make everybody's lives miserable. What we don't know is about his special interest in agonizing my life. After a marathon of Poirot episodes till late Sunday night, I just couldn't beckon enough muscles in my body to move, and my eyes were like two blobs of burning coal - red and black with few white ashes here and there. Obviously, I did not want to drive to work. C'mon God, this is the least I could ask for! Well yes, I could have just called in sick, and done without any of the above catastrophes. But you see, here's where the 1234th rule of marriage (something called ethics?) plays its card. I'll say no more.
Well well. Thanks to the strike, I had to drag my reluctant self and my poor two-wheeled carriage to survive yet another episode of Bangalore's pothole-infested, noise-polluted, dust-covered fury. And here I am now, cheering myself up with a few randomly penned words synchronized with Bollywood music, totally ignoring the throbbing sensation in my head (God, I need some food and sleep!). On a completely not-so-different note, I could really do with that surprise visit from mom and dad.
Hmmm...so here ends part 1 of 12 of my New Year resolution no. 1 - to write something every month. By the way, I never said that "something" would be a literary piece of art.
So long, folks! Happy first working week in 2014!
Disclaimer: The above piece of writing is fictional, with no offence intended for spouses and bosses.
PS. to Disclaimer: Believe me if you have to.
