There was a time when I waited for Sunday. After a week of work, and I worked hard, a day of rest was very welcome. I loved to sleep. I am not an atheist, and I go to church maybe once a year for midnight mass on Christmas eve. So I'm not a churchgoer basically. Therefore Sundays did not mean that I was seated in the pews in church listening to the pastor's sermon. The pastor, in fact, would not recognise me until my sister, who goes more often to church, introduced me as her brother after Christmas Eve mass. I also had a problem sleeping and would lie awake at nights trying desperately trying to fall asleep. I tried counting sheep and it never worked. I also tried those sleeping videos on YouTube. I listened \ and felt bored. They were not music I was familiar with and they kept my eyelids firmly apart. Even a safe tranquillizer that my doctor prescribed did not have any effect. The only thing to do then was to switch on
There is a middle distance one stares
into when the mouth opens slowly and the jaw drops to the chest contentedly. There
are many moments in life when this happens. There are some who are very gifted
in the art.
The head drooping also occurs on public transport in Kolkata.
While you hang onto the bus handle as the man behind you pushes forward with
his paunch and the chap to your left treads sadistically on the little toe, the
person sitting on the right seems to go into a trance. You look at him fiendishly
and wipe your brow for the nineteenth time. The man remains thus even when you are unceremoniously
ejected back onto the street.
Then there are others who stare out of the bus windows at
nothing in particular, except when their eyes alight on a pretty woman. You
cannot mistake that look. It is the middle distance gazer at his best. He is
unperturbed as you sway and get pummelled by fellow travellers as the driver
tries to think he is in a grand prix.
It’s not much different in the office. But then you are not
standing on your toes. That is an advantage. Then you come to notice that some
are the wilting kind.
I have seen a person sitting up with the back upright and
with one finger on the computer keyboard. Since the person sits with the back
turned to me, I fail to notice that Morpheus has happily taken over.
Only when
some other employee brings this to my notice sotto voce that I can do something
about it.
But I have to do it in a soothing voice for a sudden bark
can bring on a nightmare for the person who will then ensure that I get a court
summon.
I take a few deeps breaths, listen attentively to the
whistle that the sudden air sucked in makes, stop myself from choking and give
a loud sniff.
The person to whom my attention is directed stretches,
closes the left eye and stares unblinkingly at me with the right as I get a
hiccup. Someone rushes to aid me with a bottle of water. I sprinkle a few drops on my pate to slake
the thirst. Then I let out another hiccup.
A kindly soul slaps me vigorously on the back making my eyes
pop. A loud hiss escapes my lips as my
eyes water.
"Oh! He's choking!" someone says with genuine concern.
"You needn't call an ambulance or a hearse," I
gasp, "I've to collect my pension and provident fund first and say goodbye
to my cat."
Meanwhile, the person who almost sent me to My Maker, looks
at me with interest.
"Is he choking?" she asks wonderingly.
"Forsooth!" I utter mentally, as I give her a weak
smile.
"He's all right," a colleague says darkly.
"Got to go to the washroom," I gasp.
I stagger to my feet, stumble and fall, all in one fluid
motion. I keep staring at the middle
distance as someone says, "He is pissed ... er ... passed out after
all!"
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