Near the badminton court, having stood up, I was frustrated in the least but was really angry too. Angry that people don't care. They don't consider me their part of their circle of existence. It slowly grew into more frustration and then into dejection. Why couldn't my friends do that little bit for me? Friends do everything but don't ditch or fuck their friends. That small part in me that believed in the best in people just suffered a setback. It was a mirror that had just been broken with pieces lying all over the ground.


How difficult is it to convince oneself that things are alright. How difficult is to mend a broken mirror. To get back that mirror without any crack in it?

I got out of my room and made my way to Indiranagar. I knew where I was headed. It was a celebration of what I had become. A macabre fest to celebrate the failure that I was. I went straight to the barber shop and asked him to shave my head. Mind over body. One final act of vengeance against my own body. For letting me become this person that I was. The battle was over even before the body could react, let alone draw the battlelines.

Take that bitch. You deserved it. You got what you deserved. We'll come back to this everytime I feel I've been let down by you.

*  *  *  *

Sipping tea while sitting under the friendly shade of a tree is one of those rare things which we yearn for and look forward to. At such moments when the last sip of tea tastes infinitely sweeter than all the tea put together, we begin to look at the world around us. A world which begs to be seen from an alternative perspective and which inspite of its unlimited number of flaws. At such moments when someone is angry, situations arise which in retrospect seem like contraptions designed by some higher power to ease you. Soothe you and force you to sit back and wonder why was I even bothered.

*  *  *  *

Fresh from the my newest conquest, I wanted to go to my room and settle with my miserable self. In loathing and disgust but only after another campaign. One to satiate my other visceral needs - nutrition, food and the desire to fill my stomach. A plate of idli did a lot to help in the cause. It allowed me a little more energy to curse. To boo. And to spit. I knew I needed something to make me more agile. Things were beginning to dull a bit and I took a cup and tea and stood by the road watching the world. Its denizens rushing to some imaginary destination not knowing the that they were already at their destination. Their destination was this world - where they were destined to always rush. Convince themselves that life is but a journey which can never end and when it actually does, it is only a small wait. A stopover at some airport before we embark on another journey...

Amidst all this pandemonium, I saw a guy, tall and lean. He was waiting to cross the road. With him stood a lady, old and frail. By the looks of it, she seemed like his grandmother. He held her hand and led her through the traffic. Through the ceaseless chaos of the world. Bending down to listen to his grandmother say something and add something of his own. Their love seemed timeless and ethereal, something that would stand out in any street, any bazaar and any city. His respect for his grandmother and she content with her love for her grandson. Hand in hand, they walked. He walking much slower to match the stride of his grandmother. I guess it made my evening and put my heart at ease. I ran into love and caring and it made me feel that I had run into some familiar territory. A territory which would have appeared unfamiliar and implausible minutes back. In my head, the guy was replaced by my body and I was walking with my grandmother. Crossing the same road and holding her hand. Bending down the same way to hear her voice and feel good again and again.

Body over mind.