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THE ART OF KILLING TIME
Thinking is my way of dispelling boredom, as it provides an avenue for expressing the most intimate feelings; which are not always pleasant. Anyway who has control over their thinking? Heard very few people have control over their thinking, sadly I don't belong to that esteem club. Although one aspect about thinking - whenever one concentrates on them one always find them flying about, but with no logical pattern attached to them, is the most prominent reason why I like to think - thinking transports me to a world where reality and fantasy merge, resulting into the birth of a new reality that is; maybe, morphed on the actual happenings of the past. As I flip-flop among continuous churning thoughts, I single out and concentrate on a particular situation that happened some years ago.
I was involved in my favourite hobby, mind exercise - to pass the boredom. Actually had it been time which was equated to money then I would have been a millionaire many times over, sadly world is not built as I wish it to be. That particular week, I don't remember Tuesday or Thursday, anyway day is not important, however important point being - had more free time than usual. So, I applied the best remedy - kill time. I knew from experience that day dreaming was the best strategy to kill time. With strategy in hand all I needed was a central idea - that would be utilized to successfully complete my endeavour. I smiled, central idea would be my great many heat breaks. The list of my failed attempts at love are so many that if I start to narrate all of them the information assimilated would be equal to an encyclopedia in length. But I knew I had only a few hours to pass; by them it would be eight o'clock - time for the evening ritual, my happy moment- which constitutes me and my whiskey glass. I came up with the name happy moment because once the clock strikes eight the world and all its problems take a back seat. So keeping time restrictions in mind, I settled on my most recent heart break.
She! she wasn't even that beautiful, nor was she that intelligent. 'Come on! how could I fall for her in the first place?' The answers to the question was clear to me then as it is to me now - the small answer was she didn't throw bricks the first time I talked with her, and I was desperate for a person to call as my girlfriend that I wished all my energies into her being mine. However, the long answer is a bit deeper than that.
To delve into my long answer of loving a girl whom I did not find attractive, truth be told there were some moments of clarity when I found her plain ugly. This admission, however true, I made it a point to suppress it that strongly that I lost sense between reality and delusion. All that was visible to me was she and me together. To sustain that picture I continuously lived and breathed that dream, and from time to time drank many poisons, which unfortunately did make my life miserable, but don't kill me in the grand scheme of things. In my madness of achieving that dream I forgot to see that I and she was no match, barring a few non-essentials none of our ideas about life ever matched. We were never able to connect on any level, and if I replay any discussion of ours then it would become apparent that even in mundane conversations we were never truthful to one another, invariably one of us had to intentionally side step to let the other have his/her word to maintain the decorum of the relationship - or whatever name I wish to give it now. In my pride, I thought of it as a relationship, but if I oversee that non-living thing from an objective point of view then it was a whole where the two remained separate throughout right from the start, similar to oil and water. Now who was oil, and who was water, let's keep that discuss for another evening because knowing myself I am certain there would be many evenings in the future for me to pass.
For one moment imagine that she by any chance comes across these words - what would she think? Obviously her first question would be ' why did I put up with her for so long? Truth be told ours was a three years long relationship - relationship yes but love blossomed for fifteen days only. Most of the time I was walking a tight rope; intentionally, to 'not to scare the cat away' the phrase is a good way of putting things across. I distinctly remember that I felt, imagined, talked or even did things which I assumed she liked. Now as I think back 'the scared cat' in the dead relationship was infact me, and most certainly not her, which I liked to proudly imagine and believe. An image of her had stuck with me ever since - when she said, "the relationship is over", with blood-red eyes from continuous weeping. That sad face; a picture of sadness, haunted me for months and barred me from sleeping peacefully at night; because as soon as I closed my eyes her melancholic face stared at me. I couldn't get over the fact how sad, and helpless she must have felt seeing that our relationship was over. It was only much later that I realized that her tears were not for me or the ending of the relationship, but it were for her and her self-esteem, knowing fully well that she will have to once again go through the whole process of courting to find another man, in the hope that the next man wouldn't turn out to be a let down like me. After all these years this selfishness of hers still has power over me, as I sense a surge of self-pity and anger in equal proportion.
Anyway time passed, like it always do, and I lost; in a way willingly, all contact with her. And with time she lost all relevance to my life because if I wanted to build on the old crumbled relationship or forge a new one how difficult it would have been to find her contact. I let things die their natural death. To be truthful, I am happy this way.
"Phew!" taking a breather I turn my face towards the wall clock, it's half past seven. "Great! time flew by", I said a little loud to an empty room. And realized that I have succeeded in my endeavour; to pass my boredom. Realising that the free time has passed, and there is no need to keep thinking about my sad love story, still I decided to pursue further as I wanted to give it a closer - where was I? Right - I don't wish to reignite the relationship, as passion had dried out, and even if I tried to reignite fire wouldn't have generated.
Leaving the story aside, I proceed to take action; bathe, my first effort at doing any physical work for the day. And with twinkle in my eye I walk towards the bathroom knowing very well what awaits me at the other end of the bath - I, me and my whiskey.
I was involved in my favourite hobby, mind exercise - to pass the boredom. Actually had it been time which was equated to money then I would have been a millionaire many times over, sadly world is not built as I wish it to be. That particular week, I don't remember Tuesday or Thursday, anyway day is not important, however important point being - had more free time than usual. So, I applied the best remedy - kill time. I knew from experience that day dreaming was the best strategy to kill time. With strategy in hand all I needed was a central idea - that would be utilized to successfully complete my endeavour. I smiled, central idea would be my great many heat breaks. The list of my failed attempts at love are so many that if I start to narrate all of them the information assimilated would be equal to an encyclopedia in length. But I knew I had only a few hours to pass; by them it would be eight o'clock - time for the evening ritual, my happy moment- which constitutes me and my whiskey glass. I came up with the name happy moment because once the clock strikes eight the world and all its problems take a back seat. So keeping time restrictions in mind, I settled on my most recent heart break.
She! she wasn't even that beautiful, nor was she that intelligent. 'Come on! how could I fall for her in the first place?' The answers to the question was clear to me then as it is to me now - the small answer was she didn't throw bricks the first time I talked with her, and I was desperate for a person to call as my girlfriend that I wished all my energies into her being mine. However, the long answer is a bit deeper than that.
To delve into my long answer of loving a girl whom I did not find attractive, truth be told there were some moments of clarity when I found her plain ugly. This admission, however true, I made it a point to suppress it that strongly that I lost sense between reality and delusion. All that was visible to me was she and me together. To sustain that picture I continuously lived and breathed that dream, and from time to time drank many poisons, which unfortunately did make my life miserable, but don't kill me in the grand scheme of things. In my madness of achieving that dream I forgot to see that I and she was no match, barring a few non-essentials none of our ideas about life ever matched. We were never able to connect on any level, and if I replay any discussion of ours then it would become apparent that even in mundane conversations we were never truthful to one another, invariably one of us had to intentionally side step to let the other have his/her word to maintain the decorum of the relationship - or whatever name I wish to give it now. In my pride, I thought of it as a relationship, but if I oversee that non-living thing from an objective point of view then it was a whole where the two remained separate throughout right from the start, similar to oil and water. Now who was oil, and who was water, let's keep that discuss for another evening because knowing myself I am certain there would be many evenings in the future for me to pass.
For one moment imagine that she by any chance comes across these words - what would she think? Obviously her first question would be ' why did I put up with her for so long? Truth be told ours was a three years long relationship - relationship yes but love blossomed for fifteen days only. Most of the time I was walking a tight rope; intentionally, to 'not to scare the cat away' the phrase is a good way of putting things across. I distinctly remember that I felt, imagined, talked or even did things which I assumed she liked. Now as I think back 'the scared cat' in the dead relationship was infact me, and most certainly not her, which I liked to proudly imagine and believe. An image of her had stuck with me ever since - when she said, "the relationship is over", with blood-red eyes from continuous weeping. That sad face; a picture of sadness, haunted me for months and barred me from sleeping peacefully at night; because as soon as I closed my eyes her melancholic face stared at me. I couldn't get over the fact how sad, and helpless she must have felt seeing that our relationship was over. It was only much later that I realized that her tears were not for me or the ending of the relationship, but it were for her and her self-esteem, knowing fully well that she will have to once again go through the whole process of courting to find another man, in the hope that the next man wouldn't turn out to be a let down like me. After all these years this selfishness of hers still has power over me, as I sense a surge of self-pity and anger in equal proportion.
Anyway time passed, like it always do, and I lost; in a way willingly, all contact with her. And with time she lost all relevance to my life because if I wanted to build on the old crumbled relationship or forge a new one how difficult it would have been to find her contact. I let things die their natural death. To be truthful, I am happy this way.
"Phew!" taking a breather I turn my face towards the wall clock, it's half past seven. "Great! time flew by", I said a little loud to an empty room. And realized that I have succeeded in my endeavour; to pass my boredom. Realising that the free time has passed, and there is no need to keep thinking about my sad love story, still I decided to pursue further as I wanted to give it a closer - where was I? Right - I don't wish to reignite the relationship, as passion had dried out, and even if I tried to reignite fire wouldn't have generated.
Leaving the story aside, I proceed to take action; bathe, my first effort at doing any physical work for the day. And with twinkle in my eye I walk towards the bathroom knowing very well what awaits me at the other end of the bath - I, me and my whiskey.
