Skip to main content

Disarray

Now that Santosh is away, I have the entire room to myself. And now it increasingly resembles the bachelor's typically thunderstruck living place. The floor is dingier than the streets. The bed sheet is covered in layers of stratified dust. My luggage from the previous trip still lies in an alcove. My pillow cover needs a thorough wash. The wardrobe is hopeless. The drawer is in complete disarray, important papers lying recklessly strewn across. A watch lies unwatched on the floor. My books lie scattered all across. My clothes are unwashed; those that are remain crumpled and unironed. Some clothes are dangling from the washing lines, forgotten and almost forsaken. The shelves are flooding. The buckets are empty. The CD's lie carelessly.

I feel unusually sullen.

I don't have the will to set things straight, but procrastination won't make things any better. There'll be a flurry of activity this weekend.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Good luck with that!!
Wednesday, January 25, 2006 9:10:00 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

This is what Bertrand Russell said about religion...

Religion is based, I think, primarily and mainly upon fear. It is partly the terror of the unknown and partly, as I have said, the wish to feel that you have a kind of elder brother who will stand by you in all your troubles and disputes. ... A good world needs knowledge, kindliness, and courage; it does not need a regretful hankering after the past or a fettering of the free intelligence by the words uttered long ago by ignorant men.
6 comments
Read more

The year that was

I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still ...
61 comments
Read more