It’s deep in the monsoons here. The rains are playing havoc with the country’s infrastructure, especially its highways. It’s the old SOS – the same old story. The only thing I like about the monsoons and like it very much is that sound of rainfall, and the way the little river down by the building I live comes alive. The little brook swells to a ferocious river, all shocks and currents and actually looks alive.
The building I live in is an outlaw. It’s broken all construction regulations and stands smug, crooked and tall next to the Expressway, a mere seven feet away from the highwaymen. One of these days I hope watch the wheels go by on a wet weekend and see that sight of a man walking out the bars down below on the first floor (yes, seven feet from the highwaymen), stand invincible and drunk on the middle of the highway, coo a tune and get blown to smithereens by an oncoming car.
I’m sick of the mobile phone. Which joker decided to tag every person on the planet? And the miss-call. Jesus! Fry that hamburger.
There’s a point you get to in life where you begin reviewing stuff you’ve done and believe me, there’s nothing in it to give you an upper. The circus continues unperturbed and by the time you realize you were the joker it’s pretty much a done deal. And here’s a “jolly good luck” to those seeking the truth and the meaning of things, no sarcasm intended.
Money – I’ve a hunch it’s the same guy that made the cellular phone made the money.
Television – will never kill cinema.
Politicians – are always correct.
The police – arrested development?
Jobs – descendents of the biblical Job?
Sex – after you comes the guilt.
Love – a state of denial.
Marriage – cloaks and daggers.
Spiritualism – works best with capitalism.
Writing – is overrated.
To be contd.