Layers

Three deadlines. Another five hours. And that's my third cup of coffee. It's only eleven am. Lunch soon. The formulas are in there, I'm copying everything. Templates, bloody templates.

But once I get done with these, the review can come... It's worrying, but it's okay. Everybody does it. I'm better? Okay, maybe I'm not better... but I'm not worse. How can anything go badly. You will go badly!

No, I mustn't worry about that now. Deadlines. Focus on Now. I need music. And coffee. The machine is far away, and I'll have to pass by her table again. I've avoided her for a week now. Plan to keep it that way. I'm not going there. For now, music.

Louder, please. I need to hear the bass. Why does everyone want formatting? Why can't they format their own goddamn faces? Okay, I'll do it... but just this time. Idiots, all of them. Louder, dammit. Earphones are useless, might as well throw them away.

So many Sales going on... I'm sure I'll get better stuff cheap. My Q4 targets will be in-line with expectations? All I can think about is work! I should just go to the hills. Cut out this nonsense. Am I made for this? Who am I kidding, no one is made for this. No one is made for anything.

Oh, those chords. Reminds me of Murakami. Or maybe the cat-man talks about this song. Who knows, who cares. He writes very lyrically. That value looks so wrong. Where did all my Math go? Where have you gone, Math? I used to be good at you.

What the hell am I doing with my life? Actually, it's not so bad... Nice people, fun places. Penchant for the dramatic. Everyone wants to be a dramatic retard. Even when things are simple, make them hard. Especially when things are simple.

Like that woman from last evening. Only idiots break up with people they love and crib about everything. They think they're being noble. And they can't stop complaining! That too, to strangers. First date, dammit. And she throws the whole thing at me. I no longer understand this.

What is there to understand? Everything just is. Nothing has meaning. That looks acceptable; that value. Let me get a graph out of you.

Why is everyone walking around me? Am I the only one working? I need to go outside and catch some fresh air. Or maybe some unhealthy air from the tip of a cigarette. No, probably not. I'll end up going with somebody I don't like. And I need to get done with this anyway.

Oh, what the hell - I'm going. Locked the screen. Walk. Why can't I walk faster? Do I look like my reflection when I walk? My reflection walks stupidly. What am I complaining about? - It's a fine day. Look at that crowd - everybody wants chai. They'll all be poisoned by it.

I'll join them. Hot chai, on a hot day. I'm an idiot. I'm as irrational as all these people. Look at them - smiling without reason. They have no idea what's going to hit them. Ha, I want to be there. I want to watch. Maybe it will hit me too.

But I like that tie. And that girl over there. So many pointless actions. So many pointless people. So much beauty. What a fine day. Such infernal noise: horns, blaring horns! It's nice, coming to think of it. Like a symphony.

This is entertaining. If all this doesn't happen, something else will. And I will be entertained.

Book Review: Love Lasts Forever

A week or two ago, a friend surreptitiously slipped a green paperback into my bag while I was busy stirring my coffee. When he caught my eye, he not only confessed to this act, but also made me promise that I’d review the book as soon as I’d get the time. Such promises always have strange modus operandi: you are caught in the middle of one even before you know what the promise entails.

The title of the book shocked me further: “Love Lasts Forever”. This book, written by Vikrant Khanna, a Delhi-based author gallivanting around the globe as a merchant-navy officer, and published by Srishti Publications, lives up to its initial expectations. It is an urban-Indian drama-cum-thriller (hardly surprising, given the Indian-author’s penchant for combining genres), heavily drawing on personal experiences of the author, like most initial works.

Ronit, a young officer in the merchant-navy, is on the steaming ship, Adriatic Wave, discussing his toxic marriage with his captain, when Somali pirates hijack the vessel. The crew members are taken to a solitary stretch of sand and kept prisoners there, and told that they will be freed only when their company pays a $ 10M ransom. The cook is summarily killed and thrown overboard. Given the blood and tension permeating through the story, one would expect the story to take the line of a thriller or at least have some impact on the psyche of these marooned crewmen. This never happens.

Even when the pirates are rough, burning people alive among other gruesome acts, the love-stories of the protagonist and his captain never cease. They talk through pain and bullets, about the lovers who are no longer with them. The captain’s story is the hook, which keeps the reader turning the pages of the novel.

All things considered, the book would make a suitable plot for a Bollywood flick, given its mushy themes and exotic locations. And that certainly cannot be a bad thing.

If you are looking for a quick read – it took me all of two hours to read this novel – you may want to pick this up here.

P.S. This blog will have a regular Book-Reviews section, to which I promise to remain faithful. And you know how promises work!