My blog is screaming for attention. I haven’t written anything for long.
I have been ordered by a few diligent fans to write something. One could be coincidence, two could be a remarkable coincidence but three! Let me flatter myself and wallow in a sense of importance. Readers do miss me. Their wish is my command.
This was a totally unplanned hiatus. My delightful English teacher would describe me and planning as oxymoron. (God bless her soul. If she were alive she would have used a hardworking PM as an example) But I had lost my creative juices. I try to find them in this serene greenery. I adore this place. I keep pinching myself to see if I am still alive or am in heaven.God let me die here.
Since yesterday I am barraged by one question. Where am I celebrating the new year! The project team from Bangalore were in a hurry to return last night in time to join the revelry. I let them go. I knew my staff wouldn’t like to waste their evening with me.
So I was treating my staff for a lunch and packing them off early. One precocious kid asked where I would be celebrating. I countered him with how do they celebrate. he said we will drink. I said I drink every day. he said we will eat out. I said I do it every day. he gave up. I know they think I am weird. They haven’t seen a guy who lives on bread, cakes and biscuits, drinks black tea and listen to strange sounding music.
Last evening I went down to check my gas bank and as I was crossing the cellar I saw a young construction worker sitting alone. My apartment owner is coming up with one multiplex and a shopping complex . so there are a lot of construction workers around. So coming back to this young man, he had hurt his foot. A carelessly thrown nail. We aren’t very particular about health and safety in india. he was down but not out. He was still grinning. He looked at my bottle. I was carrying a mineral water bottle. I felt guilty. I asked him if he wanted a drink. He said yes. I went to my apartment and brought some cookies and bananas for him. The sunshine paled in front of his large grin. He spoke halting hindi. I asked him where he came from . ‘ Chikamagalur’. He asked me if I knew it. I answered yes. PM Indira Gandhi represented it. he didn’t know. I wouldn’t blame him he was only 19. I asked him if he knew who was the PM now. He didn’t know what was a PM. he asked me what does he do. I cynically replied nothing. He missed my sarcasm.
Now as I sit here I think about the new year eve. I suddenly get an idea.
I go down the cellar and meet this kid. I ask him what he likes. ‘ Fish’ he grins. Which one. ‘ Bangda’.
Great. I tell him. Join me for dinner.
I call one of my staff and ask him to get me some nice fried Bangda and any other fish. He suggests angel. The rice that they eat here is different. I tell him to get that as well. he looks at me strangely. I ignore it. some bananas please. Anything else? 100 pipers. I change my mind. Blenders pride will do.
So here I am now . waiting for my guest. There will be no music. No candle light. We shall have no champagne. We may perhaps sit on the floor and eat. I will try eating rice with my hands.
By the time the celebrations reach its crescendo, the only music I would hear would be my snoring. But I don’t care. I had quite a few wild new years in my life. I always woke up with a hangover. This time I am sure I would wake up with a different kind of hangover.
Here’s wishing my dear readers a very happy and a prosperous new year. May your life be filled with happiness and sunshine.
And to those lovely people who still read my posts, drive safe, wear helmets and if you are walking , be sure to use a pavement. You guys are precious.
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