It is 12.40 by my watch. I have written at least five drafts and deleted them ten times. I am wondering if this will follow the same suit.
Sundays usually aren’t the days I should be writing. Too many ideas, too many wishes and too many regrets flood back at this hour. The what ifs of life haunt me. And the what nots prey my head with their idiotic dreams.
Anyways, what is up? No you tell me. No you tell me.
Fine. I will speak.
I bought fishes. Yes the debate is on whether it is fish or fishes, but while you grammar nazis fight it out, let me remain with my fishes. Quite literally.
There were three suicide attempts in my house today, you tell me how your day was.
I have spent last more than twenty four hours putting back these jumping jacks into the pond. I was so scared I actually sat for hours in the balcony right next to them quietly teaching them to remain inside water. Yes, I counselled them. Made them poha as an incentive and also promised them a new green net to ensure their jumping results in only acrobatics and not untimely death. Jesus.
Moving on, I am reading a book called The monk as man by Sankar. Translated from Bengali into english it is some of the worst bits of writing I have come across. But I am only continuing for the facts that it is exposing me to about the man who took Indian spirituality to world- Swami Vivekananda.
What else? I shopped a lot. I spent some great few hours with my school pal and we gossiped, sipped smoothies and basically did everything young girls at
sixteen twenty eight should do.
Gandhi Jayanti was celebrated by reminding my dad once again that in few years time kids at school will get to enjoy another national holiday in October (read birthday coming up). Steely silence coupled with, ‘what is up’ was met with no reduction in fervor from my side.
A rather hilarious whatsapp group chat was witnessed the other day which saw brother and sister exchange,’ How is job going’ and ‘Have a nice day’ kind of stuff. I pretended to not exist during this exchange.
500 is very near now. Yes you can also breathe. I have to sleep as well. I have more to gain than you. You can close the tab if you aren’t liking this. Anyways.
Lagaan was on TV a couple of minutes back. Where is Gracie Singh? Does anyone know? Where is Gayatri Joshi?
Anyways. Why didn’t this guy Sankar get himself a good editor or something. Why did he do this to a good book?
*pushes the book to the side and out of sight*
But at least he wrote. He published the content. I hate my novel’s manuscript to the extent that I could burn it forget pushing it to a publisher or a literary agent. Literary agent. The other day I saw a twitter handle called ‘Literary Agents’. Kuch bhi. Really.
Tomorrow is Monday. You know what mood I will be going to work with. You say, what’s up?
Also connecting it with Write Tribe’s #MondayMusings
Read this while you are at it: Bond and Blonde-The right direction