AN HOUR OF MYSELF

It is 9.27 A.M. Wednesday morning. The thought which is running in my mind is a song. “Otrai devadai yaarda,” by singer Karthik. The catchy tune “ Aval paarvai minsaram”…….. of the same song continues.

I open my Excel file to check whose birthday it is today. Then I remember that it is Dharini’s birthday today. I should remember to wish her.

I see my colleague, bent over his laptop. I think,” Why is this young fellow always so serious.” He looks over the wall of his cubicle, to flash a tired smile at me,” His way of saying good morning.

Another colleague walks in, buttoning his cuff. He is always stimulated my materials. This guy is always enthusiastically searching to buy things online.

One more young colleague walks in, to show a funny video, he had recorded on his mobile. His sense of humor is amazing. He always cracks jokes even in unexpected situations.

Another walks in to wish me a, good morning. This guy is formal in all stages of existence. Waking, sleeping and the dream states. I have never seen him drop his mask.

I remember that I should speak to another person in my previous office, to remind him about my Diwali bonus.

Now I am practicing even breathing. I feel the cool air of the AC blow on my face. I ring my wife at 9.52 A.M, to see whether she has reached the temple safely. Her mobile rings. But, she does not pick it up. A fleeting worry crosses my mind…” I hope she is safe.”

My boss comes in. He wishes each one of us a personal ,”Good morning.” He is tall and has a deep voice. He is impressive. I hope he has not read this material. I tell myself, “ No, it not possible.” Meanwhile my breath is out of rhythm. Yes now it has once again normal.

I press ALT TAB, when I see someone coming near. Once again the excel sheet opens. I notice that 3^rd October is someone’s birthday. I wonder, ”Is he a representative or a manager? The doubt clears as I remember correctly. He is a manager.

A thought  of my Brother in Law, who is in the USA comes. In my thoughts he wears a white T shirt and a dark brown shorts, and is sitting on the floor, on the carpet in his son’s room. My sister and sister in law who are also in USA pop in my mind. Yes, my sister in law son and another sister in laws son also come in.

I feel like going to the wash room. I am also thirst. I ponder, “ Should I drink some water or not?” in the meantime someone in the next room has used a room spray. The perfume wafts in. but before it, the alcohol base seeps in first. As I inhale the smell of alcohol, I remember the last time my son had come home for dinner. He vaguely smelt of alcohol. After we had our dinner, I sat close to him. He burped. Then there was no mistaking. He said, it was beer.

I look at the time. It is 10.14 A.M. I open the bottle of water, and drink three gulps. The water is cool, and my mouth feels warm in comparison. As I screw back the lid, I hear the sound the cap makes. I set the bottle back in its place. I hear the soft thud as the bottom hits the top of the table.

As I key in the words, I am hearing the sound each key makes as I press it.  I get up from the chair, as it squeaks. I stiffen my legs and manage to crack the back of my knees, and hear two popping sounds, one from each knee. As I walk to the washroom, my new shoe soles squeak with each step. The washroom is not air- conditioned. It is warm by contrasts. I did not switch on the light, so it is dark. I hear the snap of the lock as I shut myself in. I hear a swishing sound as I unzip my pants. The steady pour of my urine make a peculiar sound as it hits the water in the western commode.  The sound changes as the steam ends in a dribble. I flush the tank, to hear the sound of the water gushing in. I come out closing the door behind me. I walk back  listening to the squeaks of my shoe and settle in the chair, to resume typing.  As I drag the chair forward, the wheels  drag on the cement floor, making a grating noise. I feel the  word commode is not quite correct. I search the net for the proper word, landing with the word closet; a more appropriate word. Meanwhile my mobile blares with my ringtone, the BGM of the song, “ Ennai innum enna seiyya pogirai,” from the film Singaravelan. It is an amazing composition in the raga Tilang. Hats off to the Mastero Illayaraja for  such a perfect exposition of the raga, in a fast paced, lilting manner. I answer the call. It is 10.36A.M. My wife has returned my call, after 44 minutes, to tell me that she is OK.

In the meantime, the office woman has come to serve us fresh coffee. Normally the aroma reaches my nose long before the coffee does. But today it has not happened. I wonder why, but am not able to come up with an answer. I love coffee so much, that the aroma can pull me out a coma. So I stop typing, adjust my backrest, lean back to relish the hot coffee. I swish it in my mouth, feel the heat, relish the flavor before I gulp each mouthful of sheer delight.

Now that the holy ritual of morning coffee is over, I get back to typing, this blog. Now, the reader may wonder, why I am recording all these meaningless random thoughts and actions. I have simply been observing my mind and body, and all those internal and external stimuli for an hour, from  9.27 A.M.  to 10.37 A.M. That is, an hour of myself.