Ever since I rediscovered Eminem , there has never been a quiet moment. He’s either on my speakers or my headphone. It’s just never been quiet. Until this morning.
I felt all alone, worried. The ride to work was silent. I tried having conversations with myself but all I could narrate were lyrics. Angry Eminem lyrics. It was then that I decided to hold my head up, look out the window and take notice of how the world had moved on. It had been three weeks since I paid attention to anything out my car window. A lot still remained unchanged, just forgotten.
I’d forgotten how at 9 AM the yoga batch dismisses. At 9:15, buses line outside to drop off school kids. All along, the sound of kids dragging their bodies against my car I’d mistaken for the quality of my headphones. Kids screaming and running across were mere background vocals in a lot of songs. The irritating honks were drowned by electronic beats and the traffic…what traffic? didn’t notice any for the last three weeks. Today I noticed em’ all.
Suddenly my thoughts and I got thrown off the seat as the car braked suddenly. Only I travelled a little further than my thoughts as I saw a bike cut in. Tiny hands clutching into a bag is what curtailed my animal instinct to abuse. A father got off the bike, taking off his helmet, began to attend to the crooked collar of his six year old. He then proceeded to comb the little boy’s cropped hair into a neat parting, fixed the last knot on his red tie, tucked his yellow t-shirt into his half pants that reached just below his knees and then kissed his son a good day. The repackaged son then looked into the bikes mirror re-shifted his parting, checked if his toothpaste is still fighting germs. He strained his neck for one last glance in the mirror as his father yanked him onto his feet from the back seat. Cute!
I smiled. Cause 20 yrs ago, my brother did just the same.
The tyres resumed to roll. Pink clouds suddenly flooded my windows. I wondered if candy floss still tasted the same. I rummaged for change through my belongings, so did 5 other kids. Only I didn’t get to know if it still tastes the same. A little behind the candy man were a group of girls, animatedly involved with their cell phones. I rolled my window down to listen. Unaware they divulged details on how she won the bet, Rahul did have a crush on Nidhi, made plans for all to meet for coffee after school.
I had 5 friends and we were named after our choices. Latte, Express, Blackie, Cold & hot.
Too hot, window rolling right up!
*!Bang!*
*!Hey!*
*!Sorry!*should have been the affix, but the boy was so involved in perfecting his swing that the sound of the his watch crashing into my window was drowned by the imaginary crowd, supposedly cheering in his almost knocked off head! My anger brought back flashes of anger. I had to calm her down when my brother was perfecting his back hand pick up - outside the squash court and had unintentionally whacked her in the ass. Or was it intentional? mmm don’t remember now, but it was difficult to explain, in the absence of a racquet. She was angry.
My anger also got distracted by these three kids who were trying to climb a rickety railing adorning the side pavement. Their foot hold is all wrong! I know and stitches hurt. Sometimes that’s the only way to learn how not to place your foot the next time. The little brats, their attention channelized in undoing an unsuspecting girl’s plait. Now, that I’m not familiar with, my childhood was spent sporting an afro cause my parents never read ‘how to deal with curly hair’ and Jamal Haamid has only now come to work for Sunsilk, the perfect curls and all that blah. So when I was growing up it was a mushroom. No ribbons, but I knew of girls who did have to tie their ribbons tighter.
She kept turning his face towards her but each time he’d move her hand and his look would gradually turn diagonal. She finally lost the battle with the aliens in the auto across and huffed away. He followed, but only long after smiles were exchanged and the auto had driven out of sight. We’ve all been there. Some of us the ‘smiler’ some the ‘smilee’, but we’ve all been there. I noticed what actually caught the boys attention was the loud singing coming from that direction. Only difference was we restricted our singing to classrooms and Britney Spears had not “hit me baby one more time” yet. C’mmon any guy would look if you sang “Dontcha wish your girlfriend was hot like me!” Bad! Very bad! (chuckle*)
Sometimes just one look and you can assess a personality type. (Warning: superpower known to malfunction under the influence of alcohol, in the presence of a hot hunk, or a lethal combination of both!) She’s definitely a teacher and is just about to kill a batch of 20-30 people. Wish causing ‘Death by boredom’ was an unpardonable offense. Schools would have been so much better!
This one batch agrees with me for sure. They may stuff away red tie evidences into their bags, but the yellow shirts scream ‘Culprit’! Bunking class to watch the morning show of Robot! Let’s hope their supervisor doesn’t fancy this show as well. Our entire batch got expelled, cause we were stupid. Stupid to A) jump the school wall thinking no one would notice. Every one of the 30 stupid of us thought the same. B) that we all decided to go for the same show to the same theatre. C) that one of us had discussed the plan in the washroom!
As soon as the visiting professor washed his hands he headed straight to the Deans Cabin.
A little boy held onto the dangling end of his mother ‘s dupatta, following, as she darted traffic. Sometimes feeling secure is just that simple. They passed a fat boy digging into his sandwich. A huge blob of jam was discharged and headed straight for his t-shirt. He dodged and the bomb dislocated on the floor, much to the delight of a surprised stray who lapped up every last trace. Lunch box’s are lame anyway. Whoever waited to open it till 5 hrs later.
***ttttttrrrrinnnggggg**** went off the school bell. All those on my side of the wall dashed across madly. The bell so to say was the trigger for the series of the day. As I watched 3 small boys run towards the gate with their ‘larger than life’ school bags I was reminded of an equation: Momentum = mass X velocity. One worried parent went to the board concerned about the work load that his grade 2 child had been laden with. He was honest about not having the time to research things that his eight year old was expected to write essays on, leave alone barely pronounce. Other parents joined in. soon this became a flaring debate. I graduated. 15 yrs later, that worried parent’s child graduated. But the debate is yet to. I think this agony will be a never ending part of a never revised curriculum.
Their tiny legs astonished me. How fast & furious. Then suddenly they stopped. “Smaller the mass of the object, smaller is the momentum”. Hence he could break oh so suddenly. Button ‘Panic’ was also hit simultaneously. His left shoe couldn’t catch up. He tried retracing his steps, panicking as the bell rung harder and louder this time. Each time he’d try to bend down, the weight on his back pulled him to the floor. He’d soon stand tall like a warring soldier only to taste dust again. I stopped the car and ran towards the inconsolable child. But I was beaten. A little fairy, her shoe size, not much smaller than my palm, reached out to him. But not a wand she held the missing shoe instead. She waited. I waited. He wiped his tears. Sat down. Wore it again. She watched. Fidgeted with her specs and then without a warning they ran off into opposite directions. I waited. No one looked back. By the time I reached the car they had all disappeared. The street was empty. Quiet, like the last 15 minutes were only voices of my imagination. The traffic moved on.
I was here but far away. Today I experienced things that I had experienced 20 yrs ago, that my parents may have experienced 40 yrs ago. That you may have experienced not so long ago.
Which makes me conclude - life doesn’t move on. Only people do. Only time changes. Life with all its experiences stays right there. Only a different set of people move in and around its realms.
I felt all alone, worried. The ride to work was silent. I tried having conversations with myself but all I could narrate were lyrics. Angry Eminem lyrics. It was then that I decided to hold my head up, look out the window and take notice of how the world had moved on. It had been three weeks since I paid attention to anything out my car window. A lot still remained unchanged, just forgotten.
I’d forgotten how at 9 AM the yoga batch dismisses. At 9:15, buses line outside to drop off school kids. All along, the sound of kids dragging their bodies against my car I’d mistaken for the quality of my headphones. Kids screaming and running across were mere background vocals in a lot of songs. The irritating honks were drowned by electronic beats and the traffic…what traffic? didn’t notice any for the last three weeks. Today I noticed em’ all.
Suddenly my thoughts and I got thrown off the seat as the car braked suddenly. Only I travelled a little further than my thoughts as I saw a bike cut in. Tiny hands clutching into a bag is what curtailed my animal instinct to abuse. A father got off the bike, taking off his helmet, began to attend to the crooked collar of his six year old. He then proceeded to comb the little boy’s cropped hair into a neat parting, fixed the last knot on his red tie, tucked his yellow t-shirt into his half pants that reached just below his knees and then kissed his son a good day. The repackaged son then looked into the bikes mirror re-shifted his parting, checked if his toothpaste is still fighting germs. He strained his neck for one last glance in the mirror as his father yanked him onto his feet from the back seat. Cute!
I smiled. Cause 20 yrs ago, my brother did just the same.
The tyres resumed to roll. Pink clouds suddenly flooded my windows. I wondered if candy floss still tasted the same. I rummaged for change through my belongings, so did 5 other kids. Only I didn’t get to know if it still tastes the same. A little behind the candy man were a group of girls, animatedly involved with their cell phones. I rolled my window down to listen. Unaware they divulged details on how she won the bet, Rahul did have a crush on Nidhi, made plans for all to meet for coffee after school.
I had 5 friends and we were named after our choices. Latte, Express, Blackie, Cold & hot.
Too hot, window rolling right up!
*!Bang!*
*!Hey!*
*!Sorry!*should have been the affix, but the boy was so involved in perfecting his swing that the sound of the his watch crashing into my window was drowned by the imaginary crowd, supposedly cheering in his almost knocked off head! My anger brought back flashes of anger. I had to calm her down when my brother was perfecting his back hand pick up - outside the squash court and had unintentionally whacked her in the ass. Or was it intentional? mmm don’t remember now, but it was difficult to explain, in the absence of a racquet. She was angry.
My anger also got distracted by these three kids who were trying to climb a rickety railing adorning the side pavement. Their foot hold is all wrong! I know and stitches hurt. Sometimes that’s the only way to learn how not to place your foot the next time. The little brats, their attention channelized in undoing an unsuspecting girl’s plait. Now, that I’m not familiar with, my childhood was spent sporting an afro cause my parents never read ‘how to deal with curly hair’ and Jamal Haamid has only now come to work for Sunsilk, the perfect curls and all that blah. So when I was growing up it was a mushroom. No ribbons, but I knew of girls who did have to tie their ribbons tighter.
She kept turning his face towards her but each time he’d move her hand and his look would gradually turn diagonal. She finally lost the battle with the aliens in the auto across and huffed away. He followed, but only long after smiles were exchanged and the auto had driven out of sight. We’ve all been there. Some of us the ‘smiler’ some the ‘smilee’, but we’ve all been there. I noticed what actually caught the boys attention was the loud singing coming from that direction. Only difference was we restricted our singing to classrooms and Britney Spears had not “hit me baby one more time” yet. C’mmon any guy would look if you sang “Dontcha wish your girlfriend was hot like me!” Bad! Very bad! (chuckle*)
Sometimes just one look and you can assess a personality type. (Warning: superpower known to malfunction under the influence of alcohol, in the presence of a hot hunk, or a lethal combination of both!) She’s definitely a teacher and is just about to kill a batch of 20-30 people. Wish causing ‘Death by boredom’ was an unpardonable offense. Schools would have been so much better!
This one batch agrees with me for sure. They may stuff away red tie evidences into their bags, but the yellow shirts scream ‘Culprit’! Bunking class to watch the morning show of Robot! Let’s hope their supervisor doesn’t fancy this show as well. Our entire batch got expelled, cause we were stupid. Stupid to A) jump the school wall thinking no one would notice. Every one of the 30 stupid of us thought the same. B) that we all decided to go for the same show to the same theatre. C) that one of us had discussed the plan in the washroom!
As soon as the visiting professor washed his hands he headed straight to the Deans Cabin.
A little boy held onto the dangling end of his mother ‘s dupatta, following, as she darted traffic. Sometimes feeling secure is just that simple. They passed a fat boy digging into his sandwich. A huge blob of jam was discharged and headed straight for his t-shirt. He dodged and the bomb dislocated on the floor, much to the delight of a surprised stray who lapped up every last trace. Lunch box’s are lame anyway. Whoever waited to open it till 5 hrs later.
***ttttttrrrrinnnggggg**** went off the school bell. All those on my side of the wall dashed across madly. The bell so to say was the trigger for the series of the day. As I watched 3 small boys run towards the gate with their ‘larger than life’ school bags I was reminded of an equation: Momentum = mass X velocity. One worried parent went to the board concerned about the work load that his grade 2 child had been laden with. He was honest about not having the time to research things that his eight year old was expected to write essays on, leave alone barely pronounce. Other parents joined in. soon this became a flaring debate. I graduated. 15 yrs later, that worried parent’s child graduated. But the debate is yet to. I think this agony will be a never ending part of a never revised curriculum.
Their tiny legs astonished me. How fast & furious. Then suddenly they stopped. “Smaller the mass of the object, smaller is the momentum”. Hence he could break oh so suddenly. Button ‘Panic’ was also hit simultaneously. His left shoe couldn’t catch up. He tried retracing his steps, panicking as the bell rung harder and louder this time. Each time he’d try to bend down, the weight on his back pulled him to the floor. He’d soon stand tall like a warring soldier only to taste dust again. I stopped the car and ran towards the inconsolable child. But I was beaten. A little fairy, her shoe size, not much smaller than my palm, reached out to him. But not a wand she held the missing shoe instead. She waited. I waited. He wiped his tears. Sat down. Wore it again. She watched. Fidgeted with her specs and then without a warning they ran off into opposite directions. I waited. No one looked back. By the time I reached the car they had all disappeared. The street was empty. Quiet, like the last 15 minutes were only voices of my imagination. The traffic moved on.
I was here but far away. Today I experienced things that I had experienced 20 yrs ago, that my parents may have experienced 40 yrs ago. That you may have experienced not so long ago.
Which makes me conclude - life doesn’t move on. Only people do. Only time changes. Life with all its experiences stays right there. Only a different set of people move in and around its realms.
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