An overdue reality check… and a feat or two

For some time, I was recording recollections of a few exemplary Wednesdays but I ultimately came to the conclusion that it was not an activity that had much to commend itself….

There were a few of these weekdays that somehow rose above the mundane or the painful but there is not much than can keep them from joining their kin – the Miserable Mondays, the Terrible Tuesdays, the Tormenting Thursdays, the Frightful Fridays, the Severe Saturdays and the Stupefying Sundays as the Washed-out Wednesdays.

Sample the latest one…. again with the pattern of the alternate weekly flag meetings on hold till the last week or so of July, there was little incentive to even leave the house until late in the afternoon…. Attempted arrangements of alternative assignations (what alliteration) turned out to be a squib, with one declining a day before (just like the previous week…. why do I get a sense of deja vu) and the other who was asked did not give a positive response when the matter was broached and I forebore from even asking later, to avoid another set of excuses – usually lame but sometimes so cunningly contrived (as I realised in 2009 or the Year of Great Betrayals). 

Resigned to my own devices, I pottered around home till late afternoon, in the role of the sloth (which is fast becoming second nature, I fear), till I somehow shook off the somnolence and decided to make the trip to postal district six of the city – which I may note I had skipped last week due to a proposed meeting which failed to materialise – and meet the only people even remotely willing to see me – mere hamzabaan.

So I set off – the same old routine. Leaving on bus of the route no 503, cursing its interminable stops on the way as well as some of the pathetic examples of humanity who were co-passengers till the time came to disembark and walk to my destination. However, this time, I didn’t. I boarded another bus at the traffic lights which took me nearer to my destination and I just had to get off at the next traffic lights, catch a revitalising cold drink and then walk up the slight rise to the Urdu Bazaar, aptly arriving at a time which gave me an hour to spend at the Maktaba.

Well, I did not find much books that caught my fancy except one which I will tell you about later and more or less pottered around till the time came for the esteemed establishment to pull down its shutters. I walked on, bought yet another keffiyeh, picked up a couple of magazines and some useful supplies. It was when I was engaged in this that I saw one of those guys selling pineapple slices…. I had for long longed for them and this time, June the 2nd of 2010, I acted to realise my desire. Well it was so good that I wanted more….. but this guy had moved on by this time. So I found another one and patronised him…. but this wasn’t as good. By this time, driven by a fervent desire, to aid and stimulate the local economy, I found another and sampled another portion. This also wasn’t as good as the first.

Moving on and on, I found the first guy and had another portion. The urge temporarily satiated, I moved on through that awful street towards the metro station that would take to the city centre on the first lap of my way home. Arriving here, it was another sorry sight….. a line stretching half up the entrance steps and showing no signs of abating any time soon…..

To be continued….


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