Being able to afford and even owning a few gadgets of modern entertainment, I have convinced myself that my current momentum of life will lead me to an end of comfort, happiness and contentment. I recognize that I have been lucky in having a fine "edoocation", ample opportunity to fulfill my dreams and being able to seize opportunities to make a smooth path to a refined life which has bolstered my confidence that the defined meaning of a successful life is near.
Like everyday, I dress, eat a controlled calorific valued amount of modern food, and drive to work. After having managed to pass the first four hours making moolah for BO's government, I go out for a stroll, a habit recently formed to detoxify myself from the acrid mental byproducts of working. I take my time, and being loyal to the memories of the past, I try and look for signs that would remind me of home. I find none. This part of the world and this time of my life is way too far from even remotely alluding to anything recognizable. I give up, consoling myself that the days of yore are meant to be so and future is what I must pursue.
Having acquired a pseudo disposition and an assumed positive countenance from my walk and wandering thoughts, I resume work. Apparently, my long walk has cost the company a handsome change and my immediate intervention and expertise is summoned. I have, in the past, taken extreme forbidden pleasure in similar situations where my so called brilliant mind has been used as an example to belittle other less fortunate minds. I take no pleasure today. I am tied to the past memories, and the space between my conscious and sub-conscious states of mind is filled with this urge to look for signs. I, once again, outshine the others and this moment gets displayed in the corporate pedestal as "exemplary". I take advantage of this moment and ask for a premature retirement for the day, claiming fatigue. Before leaving I tend to a few tasks with my team and guide them in the direction they need to be.
A less brilliant mind asks a question and waits for his turn. He is playing with a rubber-band, trying to solve a technical problem. Being a higher mind, I would have ignored his lowly query and would have moved to attend to something higher, but my mind cannot let go of the rubber-band. This hierarchical attendance based on corporate egotistical culture is not natural for me, but I play along to maintain the peace of the corporate hell. As he winds one end of the band on his thumb and the other on his forefinger and plucks it with his other hand, the vibration resonates with something in the crevice that I mention above. I move toward him, his eyes show a twinkle- he feels his query has been approved, he smiles. Before he opens his mouth and begins to feel that his query has finally reached higher standards, I cut him short,
'Do we have a bunch of those somewhere', pointing to the rubber band.
He fails to understand and covers it up by mouthing a "ummm'.
I give him a clue , ' the rubber-band'. He jumps up from his seat and says, ' Yes, in the stationery cabinet, let me show you,' he feels useful. I let him feel so.
When we arrive and when he shows me the packet that contains a month's supply, I grant him a smile,' Thanks, let's talk about your question tomorrow". His eyes light up by the grant but he senses my need to be left alone and turns around and utters,' Thanks, let me know if you need something' and leaves. I don't understand what that rubber band has done, but I am a child again. I take a handful and leave the rest. I rush back to my cabin and close the door. I cut one rubber band, hold one end and slide the other hundred. I carefully tie both the ends and smile. I still remember how to make it. I haven't lost my legerdemain.
A 'Chhungi' , a 'Thepli'.
I smile as I get transported to the beautiful past. My friends and I would play this vernacular sport and compete. School recesses were the perfect time. Bets were placed, champions were made in those tournaments and were lauded and looked up to by all. I was one of the champions - proud and happy. As recesses ended, we would hide these "bunches of joy' in our pockets as this was not a 'regular' sport and was condemned by our teachers and parents. We would still carry it around and play whenever opportunity presented itself.
A loud knock on my cabin door brings me back. I hide my 'bunch of joy' and open my door only to reveal one half of my face.'I thought you had left', the disturber remarks. 'In a minute', I snap back and shut the door again. I pull 'it' out and look at it for a few moments. The burden of existential humdrum is lifted for those moments.I smile again, I am happy again, I feel like a champion again. I feel like a carefree child again. I feel ...again.
I quickly put it back into my pocket just like before and leave with a smile. They look at me and wonder. I look at them and forgive.
I had meant to leave before traffic began, I'm late, but I don't care. I am happy. I sit in traffic for another half hour smiling and ecstatic about my treasure. I reach home , drop my bag, and go out into the backyard and play. After a few practice sessions, I master the sport again.
I am Champion again.
Calling all Champions of the yesteryears :
My score : 322, with 1 'back' at every 50, 'double backs' at every 100.
Get your "bunch of joy' and come let's live again, let's play again.
~ Chhungi Champion !
