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 on...
“Are you looping the loop again?” I asked the neighborhood lunatic. “Yes, it’s hard work,” he said wiping his brow after climbing down the lamp post for the eighteenth time. “What do you see up there?” I asked him. “I ensure that the lamp posts are going out on regular dates,” he said. “Do they go out? They can’t be of much use at night then,” I remarked. “No, no,” the lunatic corrected me, “they go out dating.” “Lamp posts go out dating!” I exclaimed. “They all have their secret love lives,” the nut said nodding his head, “they can’t always be like the young cad who stood on the burning deck.” “Do lamp posts burn the candle at both ends?” I asked eagerly. “When the bulbs kick the bucket, they have to get candles from the grocers at a premium,” the fellow said, “the grocers make a quick buck when the lamp posts are fumbling about in the dark looking for loose change.” “You can spare some loose change for the lamp posts,” I suggested. “...