I ended yesterday feeling tired, but happy. With dreams of getting home in time to write all about it. A good dinner, early to bed.
Alas for all good intentions and the best laid plans (i made my bed and i should let sleeping dogs lie in it, or whatever)
The daily scenario is basically this : work till five, review at five or five thirty. Once all reviews are complete, the entire kit and boodle move en masse in the limited number of vehicles (among which is our regular ride) to the hotel where all the foreign students are put up. From there, two of us and our friend in the car move to his house, from where I drive home on my bike. That's the plan.
The first knot in our plan came from the fact that our regular ride man (let's call him B for future reference) was planning to visit a slum for his case study. It seemed no big deal to my companion and me as we thought we'd catch a couple of buses and be home in an hour or so. Of course, I didn't take into account her sudden desire to play basketball on the hotel court. A whole thirty minutes past our scheduled leaving time, we finally got to a bus stop, where we caught the first bus to the Kempegowda Bus Terminal. Naturally, to keep things interesting as well as up to par with all other similar adventures, we were trapped in a traffic jam as soon as we got off the flyover. A journey that normally takes five or seven minutes took twenty-five.
By the time we got to Majestic, it was eight-thirty, so we decided to take a rickshaw instead of another bus. We got onto the race course road flyover and, as we were hoping for a smooth ride, we were promptly thrust into an entire new series of blocked roads; which turned out to be caused by, what else, one of the million street processions that help to make the Bangalore traffic situation as beautifully exciting and unpredictable as it is.
Meanwhile, I'd decided awhile back that I'd leave my bike at B's house for the night. Hence, I'd called my dad just a few minutes before the first jam, and asked him to meet me at a point on M.G. Road. Suffice it to say, my poor father waited for me in our delightful 800 for over an hour, while my friend and I spent the same amount of time chatting with our auto driver.
This post was supposed to be about the wonderful feeling that is being tired and happy - the feeling you have at the end of a long day of fruitful work (or incredible fun), when all you have to look forward to are deep sleep and sweet dreams. I had reams to say - lots of connections to draw, memories to share, information to give on the new short story [update: it's done!!] I've started, that I've actually decided to post in progress...
I guess it'll have to be next time, the irony gods willing.
Alas for all good intentions and the best laid plans (i made my bed and i should let sleeping dogs lie in it, or whatever)
The daily scenario is basically this : work till five, review at five or five thirty. Once all reviews are complete, the entire kit and boodle move en masse in the limited number of vehicles (among which is our regular ride) to the hotel where all the foreign students are put up. From there, two of us and our friend in the car move to his house, from where I drive home on my bike. That's the plan.
The first knot in our plan came from the fact that our regular ride man (let's call him B for future reference) was planning to visit a slum for his case study. It seemed no big deal to my companion and me as we thought we'd catch a couple of buses and be home in an hour or so. Of course, I didn't take into account her sudden desire to play basketball on the hotel court. A whole thirty minutes past our scheduled leaving time, we finally got to a bus stop, where we caught the first bus to the Kempegowda Bus Terminal. Naturally, to keep things interesting as well as up to par with all other similar adventures, we were trapped in a traffic jam as soon as we got off the flyover. A journey that normally takes five or seven minutes took twenty-five.
By the time we got to Majestic, it was eight-thirty, so we decided to take a rickshaw instead of another bus. We got onto the race course road flyover and, as we were hoping for a smooth ride, we were promptly thrust into an entire new series of blocked roads; which turned out to be caused by, what else, one of the million street processions that help to make the Bangalore traffic situation as beautifully exciting and unpredictable as it is.
Meanwhile, I'd decided awhile back that I'd leave my bike at B's house for the night. Hence, I'd called my dad just a few minutes before the first jam, and asked him to meet me at a point on M.G. Road. Suffice it to say, my poor father waited for me in our delightful 800 for over an hour, while my friend and I spent the same amount of time chatting with our auto driver.
This post was supposed to be about the wonderful feeling that is being tired and happy - the feeling you have at the end of a long day of fruitful work (or incredible fun), when all you have to look forward to are deep sleep and sweet dreams. I had reams to say - lots of connections to draw, memories to share, information to give on the new short story [update: it's done!!] I've started, that I've actually decided to post in progress...
I guess it'll have to be next time, the irony gods willing.
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