The fan slices menacingly through the air hanging heavy over my back. Suddenly it's the most frightening sound. I roll over and try to clear my mind of all the thoughts floating in my head like tadpoles in a bottle, crashing into each other. They fight for my attention, memories blurred together and mundane tasks imagined to the closest detail. "Charge your ipod, metro or bus? When do I buy the cigarettes because I know I'll need a smoke in the morning". The myopic shapes of prayer flags dance above my restless body. Seductive orange light from my open door tries to coax me to come outside and spend my sleepless hours looking at the sky. The moon enclosed by a chandan coloured glow, beams like a dormant third eye on Shiva's ash smeared forehead. It's 3 am now, I have to wake up in 4 hours and go back to routine. There's too much caffeine in your bloodstream and a lack of real spice in your life
[Written in the auto in the morning]
The Beat That My Heart Skipped. All frustration disappears with speeding smoke and pigeons scattering in the sky. My autowallah with the freshly shaved head touches idols and mutters prayers as we pass by the electric crematorium. I touch my head, my heart too. Almost there now.
After a week of college, I'm already tired, already feel like I never had 3 months off, already broke everyday, already running away to drink as often as possible, already staying up to do my reading for class (and never managing to actually do it).
But you know what, the sky looked fucking ridiculously beautiful this weekend, so I'm going to try and trudge through a year of this shit and be zen.
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