He liked watching her sleep. She looked so much at peace now, wrapped up in that something-like-a-shawl thing. But he’d have to wake her now, to tell her that he’d finally cracked a puzzle. Now he knew why reality shows worked. People would rather watch someone sleeping than the movie for which they paid Rs.200.
until next time, in reality….
‘Breathe in’ said the instructor. A collective intake of breaths followed. ‘Now hold until I tell you’, he continued. The stillness followed for some excruciating seconds. Just as he said ‘Exhale’, a sound erupted which prompted quite a few giggles. ‘..through the mouth’ said the instructor, with a deadpan expression, and without missing a beat.
until next time, gas chambers
And the nation cringes as the inflation goes way beyond 8%, and threatens to go even more. A litre of petrol, which was about Rs.20, when i first started using it, now costs well over Rs.50.
I remember the kind of vehicles that used to accompany mine in the petrol stations. A few Ambassadors and Fiats, on their way to extinction, a lot of Maruti- the normal 800 as well as Omnis and the occasional Esteem, and mostly two wheelers. The scene has changed with global brands vying for the customer’s attention. So we have the Hyundais and Fords and Chevrolets and Skodas bringing out bigger and costlier cars that are aimed to showcase its user’s affluence and highlight his standing, which is er, a little above that of his peers.?
Of course, the way he behaves on the road would make you doubt this premise.I have very often, in the course of conversations, heard the owners of the big cars complaining about how their cars guzzle fuel. And how they feel the pressure when the petrol prices go up. And i have always wondered that even if we manage to control inflation, will we ever find a way to control inflated egos.
until next time, pricks… for the ego
until next time, a billion plus wishes 😉
“They’re both oaks, even if they were planted in different forests. But then, m’lord, we all suffer in our different ways from being prisoners of birth.”, thus spoke a wonderful character called Mr. Munro in Jeffrey Archer’s ‘A Prisoner of Birth’. Profundity !
I wonder how many of us are able to grow into oaks, irrespective of which forest we’re planted in. No doubt, a few do manage, but the majority live a life that derives a lot from the forest it grew up in. Getting set into patterns and stereotypes that somehow define us irrespective of what we are and what we attempt to be. From the name that reveals your nationality, religion, to the tags that make you middle class/ cosmopolitan/ south indian and everything in between.
And by the time we pause for breath, and care to reflect on where we have reached, we can only wonder how life might have been different, if the settings chosen had been different. And sometimes we look around and end up thanking the higher power for the setting. The place, the time, the parents, the economic conditions which perhaps make up the where, when, who and what, but leaves us holding the one question that we’d love the answer to – why?
until next time, the path to freedom…
