I had been on the move for the last twenty odd hours, practically for the last few years, but contextually. The road drive hadn't given me this bad a nausea ever, and the lack of sleep co-conspired. I would get out and take in gulps of air, roll my windows down, breathe in, try to sleep, fail in the process, regret my life, feel restless again. I had flown the first part of the journey and then took a train. The intention was to save some money. I had eaten out and shopped like a maniac this term. Besides getting tired of comparing the uniforms of air hostesses, I also have this thing for overnight train journeys, alone.

Sometimes I remember Geet saying Ladki aur AC ka kya connection? But whatever. So I was waiting at this station, having dinner by myself, sipping coke, people comfortably staring at me, lone woman, with lots of luggage, look who deserted her. I have reached that stage in life when I am comfortable with most of such stuff. Also I was reading this travelogue. By an author who accidentally happens to be an acquaintance of mine. I don't know which way to put it, an acquaintance who happens to be the author of that book?

So I was reading this book, yearning for a world that was all around me. Keeping sleep away, my shoulders we stooping, my back had almost passed away thanks to the bags. After I got in the train, I called people to tell them I was alive and safe. I was slouching on the side lower berth, if you know what I mean. But the man sitting opposite me was exposing half his underwear and more. I didn't know which way to look, climbed up to my berth and slept off.

At 3 in the morning, I was sitting on my suitcase near the door of the train waiting for my station, yet reading that book! That s-o-b railway guy comes to tell me that the towel from my bedroll is missing. Did I steal it? fuck! We go and search again. And I was so angry when I didn't find it. He asked me to show my bag, imagine! s-o-b. Just then all the old men were walking to the washroom in their crumpled pajamas. I cursed myself for waking up so early and it was scary cold. There was another guy with me, waiting. Smiled and asked me where I was coming from. Calcutta. End of conversation. I don't think it's a problem, but I just don't talk, not with people I know, not with strangers.

Then I remembered having broken up earlier this term. I had this sudden craving to have him beside me, cracking those nutty jokes and laughing with him. But dumping, when you sense being dumped is just around the corner, is the absolute zenith of human intelligence, the victory of the ugly human ego. Plus the ecstasy of being by myself is orgasmic sometimes.

Travel-ouge. So tell me, will I become a published author before thirty!


The Sage said...

like the flow of this post... :) maybe you might end up writing a travelogue while moving to delhi... and it might make you a published author too!!

Blasphemous Aesthete said...

I read somewhere that writers are solitary beings.
If I were to trust that, then maybe you should start contacting publishers right on.

The egoist inside us wants to do things that people did to us, and we too derive pleasure from doing that. But, I think, sometimes, it's not worth it.

Enchanta said...

You seem to have voiced exactly what I feel when I travel, because its mostly alone.
As long as you have the material to be published ready, trust me, publishers would flock to an author like you.
All the best with that !

Surya Prakash V said...

You are already a published author. Everytime you click a button, there are a potential million readers. And I am a fan. Perhaps you are talking about money and fame?

You crossed 30 many yrs ago, perhaps you are talking of a recorded event at a local hospital.

You once said to me there are conventions out there. True, without these rules, we would all die in a hurry. But "in there" you always die, to be born again, a hundred years later - why do you care of the conventions?

Can't you see I am trying hard to be understood, the language changes every comment I write. But perhaps it's a different compliment that you are looking for.

Stop counting you blessings, they mean nothing - but so is it with your curses. Get rid of counting altogether, unless you want to sleep. Why else will the sheep jump over the moon?

Tan said...

Yesss... go and find a publisher for u... or should i do the needful?

aria said...

before 30 or after doesn't matter but I do think you've everything it takes to be published :)
enjoyable post this time.. it made me smile on few occasions too!

wildflower said...

I like it too..that's the thing I like best about it, it so wild, it doesn't know where it's going! :) About the published author thing, I will give the script to you for proofreading once I reach :P

Writers can't help but be solitary, it looks like a blessing, but is nothing short of a curse in disguise

Thanks! :D That last line was kinda involuntary though..

I don't understand your comment but I can tell you I like it :D

There is no deadline for that, is there? Lemme go there at my own pace :P

I think I know where you smiled. Glad I did something worthwhile!

nOt anyone you know said...

* But dumping, when you sense being dumped is just around the corner, is the absolute zenith of human intelligence, the victory of the ugly human ego.*

the head knows this, the heart does not heed.

best of luck!

Amrita Sabat said...

hmmmm.....u alredy hv so many fans!! u r alredy famous! yes u must publish a book! no doubt!! m sure u'll make us all proud- winnin a Booker or sumthin! :D keep writin! & go thru my blog too! ur comments r missin der since loooong! :D

wildflower said...

LoL! i rmbr ur published book though, when we were school kids :) have been hung otherwise..will catch up with ur blog asap..!

thanks! we all know how bad that sucks :(

AS said...

I am a late entrant, but am a fan :)

wildflower said...

Nevertheless, I am honored! :)