Anonymous Notes

I sat on the line as I so often did.

One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me and so on it went.

My friend and I picking out lives. We had done this since time immemorial. An equal number for each side. The decisions were supposed to be on which one I liked and which one my friend liked. The line that we sat at was the line of life. There were souls from all walks of life. Some were old some were young. Some absolutely forgettable, Some remembered long after we had picked them out.

It’s been a while since we walked the line ourselves hasn’t it?.

Sure has. We shouldn’t loose touch with what it’s like from down there.

So down we went into the very souls we picked out. Mortalized into the same neighbourhood we met often to do things that normal kids never would. Our secrets were complicated to say the least.

One fine day we were out in the playground looking at other kids playing. We walked over and found them at the end of a game of marbles. Two kids seemed to have taken them all  today and were dividing the marbles which were laid out in a line.

One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me and so on it went.

‘I just can’t get the ending right…’, I thought. I’d spent the last 6 months cooped up in my basement writing, it could wait a few more hours. Frustrated, I headed out to the neighborhood coffee shop with my ream of papers (white legal pads with yellow post it’s all over). I was half way through a latte and eying the cookies from my perch on a bar stool at the store window when my glance met hers. I began telling her about the short romantic tragedy without a conclusion which was pretty much all that occupied my life these days. She did not mind and I did not stop . We hit it off immediately.

I met her again a few days later and again the night after that. Before I knew it we were dating regularly. I got a job in a weekly news-paper and it was around 6 months later that I got home from work and  she handed me a white legal pad with a bunch of post it’s on it.

‘I finished it’, she said. ‘Give it a read’. And it was perfect. An apt ending to the story I began a year ago. The last paragraph read

She had left me. I no longer had a job. And the light creeping through the half closed shop shutter seemed to be my prison. I got up from my perch by the door and headed home. Down in my cozy basement for most of the night I reminisced over the good times and the better. Somewhere down there in a fit of rage, dejection, hysteria, hatred and grief I put pen to paper to write my romantic tragedy.

I woke up to the daily hum drum of the cleaning lady. It was one in a series of weekday mornings I couldn’t quite recollect. Which one was this? My life is a series of unavoidable chores to be done one followed by another. Thursday! Yes thats what it was. This dreary gray sky laden with white rainless clouds could be nothing else. Somewhere in the beginning of the current month I think. House Rent Check, Electricity Bill Check, Water bill check, pay the Maid Check, pay the Cook check. But there is something I am forgetting. Never mind I’ll figure it out eventually. Getting up and going through the motions was a rehearsed ballet I usually performed half asleep. Ever since I moved out of my parent’s house and moved into this unknown faceless town of strangers to ‘pursue my dream career’ I’d just gone from one day to another. The glorious virility of youth and the enthusiasm that follows now long swept under the rug, replaced with phony drunken weekends to forget the drudgery and frustration of the calamity that is my life.

All cleaned up and in my semi-formal working attire I head off to my daily commute on the company cab. Followed by a tea/coffee session at the workplace with co-workers who are cut outs from the same piece of paper. The day follows the well known sequence of meeting, delegate work, ‘research’, cut copy paste, email report, time-sheets. With no actual joy to be taken in the work this was yet another chore to finish. Back at home the cook has come in during the evening and made food that would never pass mother’s quality control but would hold the fort till tomorrow.

Thank god the cook made 5 chapattis I’ve got some work home the extra chapati will help if I need a midnight-snack. Watch some TV chat online, talk on the phone, have dinner now lets get to some serious work. 1…2 buckle my shoe 3…4 shut the door, snore, snore, snore. Damn it didn’t finish the report. Boss is gonna be mad. But then what can he expect for the meager salary they are paying me. I’m not their slave 24×7.

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7:30 – at home – time to visit that ungrateful bastard. I have to get up at 5 am to catch the bus to get into the city his chauffeur driven taxi arrives at his door step at 8. And look, he’s thrown away food again. What have his parents taught him. Uncultured youth these days. They drink on the weekends and have hot-shot jobs but when it’s festival season they can’t even spare some good food for a poor soul like me. I wish to god that they would wake up to reality for they are blinded in thier wants and needs and self importance.

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8:00 – in the car – What does he have that I don’t. I’m stuck driving him to and from office while he’s in there sipping coffee and surfing on the internet. He would have the same college degree as me if his father had not pulled the right strings and then he went in for some professional course paying an obscene sum of money. Got himself a diploma of sorts and now look at him. I’m sure he’s not worth a penny but looks like a million dollars from afar. I will not get anywhere with this dead end job. I have to do something to boost my income.

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10:00 – at some office in the city – Such a bright young fellow. But seems to have gone all bad lately. No sense of time or integrity. Last time I called him he promised to come visit but did not. I think it was day before yesterday. It’s a shame I’ll need to call my friend(his father) and inform him that I have to take action. I remember him fresh out of college. So much promise. His thesis work was acknowledged by all in his field. He had a first class with distinction all through. No wonder the college gave him a scholarship. And today I have to foreclose his educational loan.

There once was a veil, a mystic shroud, that but for a day I shun,
Lost in it’s wake was my self, and the lapse of reason begun.

I know not whence I came upon, such a device in my tale
Yet it’s squander unexpected was felt stronger than a gale

Like a stranded leaf in a mid summer breeze
Sapless I floated a while sans ease

Brought together for reasons unknown
I did the bidding for a conscience grown

Of right and wrong I spoke in the know
But knew not my eye from my brow

Oh what a folly! Inane I must confess
For the path is the goal for all to digress

Of little known things we allege to be mindful
In a garden of hollies proclaim cherries beautiful

This beginning is not that apart from the place begun
Not Me not the veil It’s the pretense that was shun.

synopsis in the comments

It’s high time I realized that what people hope and aspire for me will rarely clash with what I might end up doing. Notice it’s not “What I want to do” it’s “What I might end up doing”. I firmly believe that the person who really knows what he/she wants to do is at least a blue moon if not a 4 legged flying mammal.

Anyway, back on topic. I just had a member of the extended family ask me whether I was to bid adieu to my bachelorhood at a near point of time. The question seems to be a perplexing exercise to my kin. Some have gone as far as to suggest that my folks are actively involved in these calisthenics.

My standard answer as of last week has now become “When you come to know please do inform me.” It’s hard enough not knowing when you might actually meet someone interesting let alone figuring out the intrigues of an arranged marriage which is happening even as I speak of it.

For the record:

• No.
• No.
• Maybe.
• And I am not aware of any events set in motion for the above

And that’s all I have to say about that.