Saturday, April 10, 2010

Fog

Late into the night, until my eyes refuse to transmit anymore words through the neuronways, the neuron-metro closes for the day and the brainstation drifts towards slumber, I read one of my dear novels, shifting postures every now and then over the hard-soft bed, never finding the most comfortable posture. After a couple of non-cooperative shutdowns of the eyes, the that's-it-for-today message is passed on to all the body sub-stations. The hands close the book, remove the spectacles and place them on the book and reach for the pillow and the blanket. They make just enough place for the curled-up posture, pushing the contents of the bed a little. A mental calculation is made for the least effort required for the longest finger tip to move towards the light-switch and apply just the required force to turn it off. Once the darkness fills the room, the body relaxes. A bedtime conversation between two voices within begins unprovoked. So, how are things going? All smooth, yes. Really? Really? I don't know. I guess they are. (Till then, everything seemed nice and fine. The book, like all my kind of books do, effortlessly put me on a dreamyland where you don't think much, you just float. Now, a distant fog appears over the horizon of dreamyland) I had a good read. What about tomorrow? Tomorrow, yes, there are things to do, things called important. (Important is a professor saying if you work hard today, your future will be safe, you will settle down well) Project. Exams. Important. (The fog advances) Right now, I just wanna sleep. It's okay whatever happens tomorrow. Sleep then. (The fog fills the entire space) Anyway, nothing is clear. Important is an almighty cloud that I cannot touch or even reach. I'll sleep (More dreamydreams in another dreamyfoggyland)