Insanity Unlimited 8

The heavens were undecided. It seemed that they were not quite sure whether to unleash their fury by answering our prayers of a much awaited downpour or to maintain status quo. To make matters worse it was a Wednesday; we were right in the middle of the week. To aggravate matters further, it was 2 in the afternoon. The only ray of hope lay in the fact that the Prakruti tea was now only a matter of minutes! And now that the tea was over it was time to just check on Orkut to find out whether the pics posted in the morning have caught the attention of any of the 80 odd friends that I carry along day in and day out ; occupying precious web space. At last realisation dawned on me and I understood why the 2G spectrum scam had assumed such gigantic proportions. It seemed that nobody has checked on those photos or may be the outlandish outfit that adorned my torso had become an eyesore for them and hence all these lesser mortals, my so called friends, were trying to create an impression that they did not even notice. Determined not to be outdone by such dastardly acts of omission and commission or criminal negligence, if you may call so, I decided to find out what Yahoo mail had in store for me. There were a couple of spam mails and a few mails from Zorpia asking me to check out the profile of such and such a person from Bangalore and see for myself if I was interested. The name they mentioned was Maya, 24 and a poster of Katrina Kaif was used for front ending by her. There was no reason I could gather to deny an acquaintance with her up-close and personal. Finally ‘twas time for the tea in the mess. Meanwhile, real research could wait for another day.

Institutionalised friendship had got the better of me and I wonder how Orkut, Facebook and the likes have made us commit, assure and then reassure the same persons that we are indeed friends spanning across all networking sites and things have not really changed from what they were in the morning or may be the previous night. The frequency of investing our relationships with this kind of verbal osmosis has indeed increased in contrast to the past, when the catch phrase “I love you” belonged to the “precious words are spoken once” club, which when spoken meant the world to the listener.

Now imagine nightfall within and outside the campus. It is dark outside whereas it is bright by the incandescence. A cold wintry December night had all the elements for a chilly day’s end. It was as if to signify the end of the day that the signature of the night was getting harsher by time. Though the conditions were not equivalent to a Scandinavian frost biting night, yet it had enough bite in it to make conditions really tough and severe for the street pedlar who sleeps by the banyan tree and here I was, inside IISc. The night is here to tell all. It is here to tell the cobbler that now he can afford to straighten his knees and retire for the day. It is here to tell the lawyer that now he can rest his weary heart and head since he has a solid six hours when he can be himself, when he does not have to worry about the pulls and pushes of arguments and counter arguments and bother about the enormous weights attached with each of them -the weight of a slain victim’s widow’s cry for justice. He knows he cannot afford to falter. There can be no slip in between the cup and the lip. He cannot say that he did not really mean what he has just pronounced. He has to have the courage of conviction to believe what he states. The glow on his face, the aura around his visage and the honesty in his arguments will be instantly and infectiously caught by the judge and all will be his i.e.; if tomorrow comes. God knows how many times he used to rehearse for this moment –his moment of truth before the D Day in cases involving very high stakes. People used to pin their hopes on his oratory, his convincing skills and his uncanny knack of wringing victory from the jaws of defeat. By his sheer undiluted emotion and logic he would traverse miles and in no time, he turned out to be the talk of the town-the numero-uno – the ultimate and final word in the adjudicator’s diary. But tonight he only has 6 hours for himself. He may have millions stashed in his bank account but today he is rich by only a mere six hours. After day break tomorrow, his hours won’t be his anymore.

The night with its advent was also here to tell that now the doctor could afford to down his scalpel. He had learnt with passing summers that the human mind was much more of a twisted mystery than his entrails; he dealt with the physical diseases though. With the rise of alternative medicine and Unani and Ayurvedic influences, the doctor knew too well that though he was hard pressed to make a killing by saving someone’s life, he had his own limitations. Every night he needed the support of goddess Bachchus to sail through or else he could not sleep, which seemed to be so elusive and coveted. The gory and sanguine details associated with his occupation and the demands of un-wavered attention for continuous hours used to wear him off. Tonight though he can rest in peace since the surgery tomorrow is scheduled to commence @ 9 AM and as always, the stakes involved are very high, for it will decide if his patient will ever walk in the future. But at least today he had six hours for himself before tomorrow morning arrives when he would raise his arm in victory or be vanquished to nothingness.

Travel by bus at night can at times make you introspective especially if the bus rides through mountainous relief enabling you to catch a glimpse of the city that housed you and which you are now so harshly leaving behind without a hint of any emotion. Feelings are stirred as the bus negotiates curves and bends, as it meanders along in the process of gaining altitude. You know that you will not be the same person after the ride is over. The night is the time for us to return home, the man to his wife so that he may find peace within her. Night is the time of extreme animation for the newspaper industry for they have to ensure that you get your early morning 16 pages of no nonsense along with your coffee. Night is the time when you are left alone and undisturbed with your dreams, weaknesses and prejudice. This is the time to lick your wounds, dust yourself off, unwind and emerge recharged the following morning- so that you can resume your Orkut, Facebook etc. with renewed vigour.

Subrata Chakrabarti (MechEngg.)