The Ringside View

My attempts at writing have always been stacked up in old diaries and scraps of yellowing paper.Time,neglect and phylum insecta however, always ensured that the gibberish i scrawled, never would see the prying gaze of an alien eye.Years later, i still scribble once in a while - this time in word documents stored in some obscure folder somewhere in the innards of my C drive.I am unearthing some of them and opening them up for the interested.To get what i call - The Ringside view.

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Location: Bangalore, Karnataka, India

Saturday, September 16, 2006

Life between alarms

The six ‘o’ clock alarm buzzed. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. It was still dark. The window pane had cracked and the makeshift cloth curtain hardly let the feeble sun rays penetrate. I did the first mathematics for the morning. Two and a half minutes more of sleep!!!

Ten minutes later when I finally got out of bed, the clock had already won the first battle and my deadlines had already slipped. It was cold outside despite the jacket. Ten days to Christmas I reminded myself. If it weren’t to get cold now, when would it? The dogs were out, strutting about in great canine splendor, relishing the previous might’s histrionics. They were the lords of the night, no doubt and it was with great reluctance that they handed over the scepter of lordship to us stupid looking bipeds at sun dawn. Stupid indeed the early risers(by choice or otherwise) looked; walking in half sleep for their early morning shots of elixir – milk for coffee and the newspaper for all those sleazy gossip from tinsel town. I wonder who starts the newspaper from page one these days. At least, not me.

I did a few uncomfortable stretches at the gym. Should make more time for exercise, I prayed. Those extra ten minutes – the push ups could have easily been fifteen instead of ten and the calories dropped would have been lesser by a few ounces, (which would translate to lesser guilt while biting into a cheesecake later in the day). The clock by now was capitalizing on the early victories. I was well and truly late.

I rush back home and into the shower and by then the race is fully on. Breakfast is a farce and the shoes as usual unpolished. I wipe them against the back of my trouser as I rush out. Appearance really did not matter, for my cab promptly left at eight (with or without me). Tennyson probably had my cab driver in mind when he wrote ‘……for men may come and men may go, but I go on forever’.

Rush hour and a clogged airport road. A VVIP visit or a traffic cop in bad spirits? I neck out of the window – seems to be the former today. Flashing lights and an escort of cars later, the mere mortals are let to pass. But our driver is now an irate man and the odometer readings seem to reflect the emotion. I mumble a silent prayer for the next traffic jam which will bring us back to a grinding halt.

Office is incongruity. Endless cups of coffee, faulty code and having to wish people good morning matter-of-factly in mid afternoon over tele conferences. In fact, it makes you switch sides. You egg the clock to move faster; until its time once again to make the return trip back to square one. Traffic jams, VVIP visits, road rage all included.

Its half past nine when I throw the bag into a corner and spread out on the sofa. I try thinking and it’s a blur. I try writing and I think it’s also a blur. But what about tomorrow. It’s going to be a déjà vu’ and I possibly can’t write the same thing. I dim the light. The alarm might buzz any minute, I might miss out on a few extra stretches, the cab driver might leave (without me) and the code which was not working today might continue to not work tomorrow. But life I guess would go on. Period.

The six ’o’ clock alarm buzzed.


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