Saturday, September 12, 2009

Walking down the road alone at almost 8 pm

Almost 8 pm. That's all I know of the time. Because 8pm is my deadline, and I must reach home before that.

It's raining. The streetlights are all blurry and rainbowy again, the way rain always makes them. I see a chain of those little decorative electric lights. Or tuni bulbs. ‘Tuni’ is a funny name. Leaves absolutely no room for dignity or grandeur. Kind of endearing though, if you think about it...
Who put these lights up now? A pujo enthusiast in a fit of impatience? Maybe they’re in honour of the Salt Lake metro, strung along the construction zone as they are. That’s a FIVE years-early celebration. All these enthusiasts. Making the world a brighter place.

Stumble. Splash. And the heel of my shoe is dripping with slush. Damn 'em puddles. Or 'poodles', as the French teacher in our university calls them. I want a dog. Not a poodle though.

Don't get distracted. Look left, Look right, Cross the road. There comes a car, with a neon ring of light at its two ends. Rings that grow larger and disperse with the air as they approach my raindrop-lined eyelashes.
The other side.
Too late, car, you couldn't run me over!

The wind rises, it tugs at my umbrella with impetuous force, and I can feel the pull all the way down to the tips of my toes. I'm Mary Poppins! Creepy-crawlies of the world, beware! Before you get to me, I will rise with the wind, holding on to my Big Black Umbrella and float away.

I like black umbrellas, don't you? They're classy, in a very British way. Hang on. British not equal to classy. Am I a victim of the infamous colonial hangover? English student too. Oh dear.

But right now, potential personality problems don't interest me. They don't interest anyone else either. Did I say I'm 'walking down the road alone at almost 8pm?'
Well, it was almost 8pm when I started out but it's past 8 pm now. And I’m not really alone, I wasn’t all this while. There are people evrywhere. People, and cars. And autos and ricksaws. Drenched bedraggled crows and drenched disgruntled dogs.

But we're all in our own little bubbles of darkness and storm, with rainsongs rushing through our head and rainwind rushing through our legs. Some, like me, walk under our umbrella-worlds. Others are getting too wet to notice anything.
I'll deal with the logic once I get home. That's a different world altogether.

15 beep/s:

Amrita said...

brilliant anushka..i just love the way u write..n yes i get wat u want 2 say from the last para...yes v do hav a umbrella- a shade over our heads..n sum ppl who r not so lucky enuf, just condition themselves 2 ignore "the rain"...
the choice is ultimately yours..
n hey, even i like black umbrellas!1//lol..n i hope i'm not sufferrin 4m ne kind of "collonial hangover"..lol..
ol d best..kip writin...it wud b an understatement 2 say dat u write well....god bless u..

Clezevra said...

I love the randomness of thoughts coming together in metaphorical sense- eventually.

joey said...

Someone is getting a wee bit ju.
Or maybe im just indulging n stereotyping...

Death On Two Legs said...

Evil woman. Just because I didn't send you that mail, you are going to hurl these accusations at me...

D'Evil Sam said...

When it rains, we all get wet. Umbrellas or not

Prince of Mirkwood said...

I used to have a big black umbrella once. More accurately, it was there, languishing in a corner of my apartment. Well, I prefer getting drenched anyway.

Kirra Serra said...

I really like your blog. Especially this post. The erratic path ones mind wanders when walking, silent and isolated, is brought out really well.

JD said...

Smooth! In a very random, mercurial way! =D

Damn nice, leaves the happy tugging-towards-laptop-to-write-vague-thoughts mood =D

Rick said...

You write such a nice little post and you give give it this title?

I was seriously considering potential snatchers before the post exposed the randomness.

Nothing against the randomness, of course...

Death On Two Legs said...

@Kirra Serra- Thank you so very much =]

@Rick- Surprise is a good thing! Though Hitchcock preferred suspense . But that's irrelevant :P

reflections said...

this reminded me of calcutta. i so desperately want to come home.

Dipankar Lahiri said...

Love the way the world inside the protection of the umbrella and the outside is contrasted.
End of day...it is those disgruntled dogs and the posters screaming PARAN ZAE ZOLIA RE that are unreal...worlds inside umbrellas the only reality.

Sherry Wasandi said...

Love the post.

Brilliantly effused with just the right amount of... what's the literary equivalent of oregano?

:)

Death On Two Legs said...

@above- :)

It would have to be 'the literary equivalent of oregano.'

Anonymous said...

black umbrellas and britishers and bowler hats ARE classy...there's no denying that...