Wednesday, September 24, 2008

alcoholic dawn

Tremors in full swing…the gap in between consecutive bouts is diminishing…they are coming like waves in quick succession…engulfing the body from toe tip to hair ends…the vibrations from the vehicle is also mounting…why is the driver slow ?...is he slow ?...road is deserted…yet…the guy is not speeding…should I ask him to hit the throttle ?...will he take it as an insult ?...maybe this is his usual pace…he too may be a member of the majority race of humans…the optimum folks…never too fast…never too slow…the normal beings…always in control of themselves…they never commit mistakes…they never react…and when guys like me react, they put on that sneer on their flesh masks and say we are over reacting…anger makes me shiver…but unlike this shivering, it subsides quickly…anger comes…anger goes…so does the shivers that accompany that emotion…this shivering never stops unless…

At last…I am there…please stop dear tremors…stop for a few moments…how am I gonna deal with the auto rickshaw driver…dear tremors…please give me a gap…at least allow me to get off the rickshaw in dignity, or what remains of it…doubt is creeping in …is there any left ?...no no no …not dignity…I am thinking about money…is there any left…I cannot take out my wallet…its in my back pocket…hands are shivering…yes yes yes…I can take it out…no no no…it will fall off…even I might fall off…remnants of self dignity will fall off…the driver is waiting for me to get off the vehicle…the driver is examining the meter charge…”how much ?”…is my voice steady ?...yes it seems to be…there is nothing abnormal in the expression of the driver…”minimum only”…is he in a hurry ?...no no no …I am the one who is in a hurry…at least my mind is working in minimum speed…I can decode the minimum charge as ten bucks…I can understand the situation …I have to pool out ten bucks and pay the driver…I am not very sure if there is ten bucks in my wallet…I am sure that there is a wallet in my back pocket…it may or may not have ten bucks…a fresh attack of tremors…I am trembling all over…I have to fish out my wallet…tremors once again…fresh attack of shivers…mind is working in optimum pace…or so I think…at least I can think… I am a shivering body that can still think …help me Descartes…help me someone…I have to get off this auto rickshaw…I have to pay him the minimum fare…I am still capable of converting the minimum fare into ten bucks…I have a wallet in my back pocket…it may or may not have ten bucks…I have to take it out…it might fall down…I might fall down…my dignity will shatter into pieces…help me someone…please help…

And the tremors stopped.

I am getting off the auto rickshaw all by myself…I am taking out my wallet from my back pocket all by myself…the wallet is empty…the gate watchman is watching me…he is smiling…no no no …he is not wearing a flesh mask…its his own face…my mind is working at a little above the average speed…I know this watchman…he knows me too…should I call him ?...will he respond ?...yes he will…yes I will…I wave at him…my hand is not shivering…he waves back at me…he is responding.
“Got any change on you brother ?, I need a tenner”
“No problem Boss, I’ll pay him.”
A deep sigh escapes…immediate problem has been solved…my looks still fetch respect…the watchman called me Boss…I am not his Boss…I am nobody’s Boss…I am not even my own Boss…things have started to slip away from me…I am slipping away from things…I am a slippery Eel…an enigmatic Eel…

The watchman is smiling at me again…he has paid the ten bucks…he has dismissed the auto driver…now I owe him ten bucks…he knows I’ll pay him back with something more…maybe he is expecting twenty bucks… his smile is different this time…it has a tinge of sarcasm…or is it plain sympathy ?...it is not respect…he called me Boss not out of respect…maybe it’s his style of addressing customers…not all customers maybe…just for people like me …Regulars.

“You were late to leave last night Boss, and you are quite a bit early this morning”

It is sarcasm…yes…plain unadulterated sarcasm…dry and scorching sarcasm…VSOP sarcasm without ice and soda…I owe him ten bucks…I have to take his sarcasm without any offence…I feel my dignity leaking out…I smile an unaffected smile…I am deeply affected…oh no…a slight shiver is passing through me…the tremors will be coming back any minute…I have to take a flight of steps to reach there…will I be able to make it ?...another shiver…this time it lasted a little longer than the first…I give a friendly pat on the watchman’s back…body language helps…I might need his assistance to climb the stairs…he lend me ten bucks…he is expecting twenty in return…so he will surely help…
“Don’t forget to ask for the tenner, people like me are very forgetful…”I gave him my million dollar smile…I returned his biting sarcasm with a mouthful of lacerating self-sarcasm…he relished it…

“No problem Boss,”

I am not his Boss…and I am having a big problem…the steep staircase in front of me…I have to climb those marble steps…those steep steps towards my destination…or is it my destiny…my own tragic destiny…in any case those steps are the immediate problem…I used to take them three steps at a time…but that was long time back…oh no…I am feeling sad…I am feeling self pity…what is happening to me ?...the first few steps were not much of a problem…oh no…there comes the tremors…they are back with full gusto…where is the sarcastic watchman…his stool is empty…might have gone for a leak…no problem …that’s what he said…yes…I will make it…I have to make it…where there is a will there is a stairway…oh yeah…I can still make a joke…jokes are good to tide over situations…humour is good against tremors…oh yeah …I can still make catch phrases…just a few more steps and I am there…go go go…I am going up…up…up…but I know pretty well that I am actually going down…

I was never upwardly mobile.

At last …I am there…there is the door…it is closed…three other guys are waiting outside…all Regulars like me…are they staring at me ?...I am shivering…I am panting too…why are they staring at me?. I put my hands in my pockets…my shivering hands keep on shivering…no no no…they are not staring at me…I am only thinking that they are staring at me…they are Regulars…just like me…Regulars never stare at each other…Regulars share a common feeling…its an universal camaraderie…Regulars belong to the same fraternity…a brotherhood of craving…why is the door closed ?...I take out my left hand from the left pocket…its shivering…I take out my right hand from the right pocket…its also shivering…I hold them together…I glance at my wrist watch…it shows half past six…half past six is the regular opening time…I squint my eyes and looks once again…the long needle has not reached the dot denoting six…one minute remaining…I glance at the corridor…what happened to Cats Eye Joe ?...what if he is sick…will there be a substitute?…if so, what happened to the substitute…is he still asleep?…substitutes are always late…what if the substitute is a new guy…what if he refuses to give credit…no no no …that wont happen…I am a Regular…and Regulars can enjoy certain privileges…credit is on of those privileges…free snacks are also privileges…pickles are free for everyone…Regulars usually avoid pickles…Regulars get roasted groundnuts…Regulars never ask for roasted groundnuts…Regulars get it free…on the house…that’s the regular usage…someone once said that the roasted groundnuts that the Regulars get for free is actually leftovers…collected from empty tables…that someone is not a Regular for sure…we Regulars are a privileged class…we get roasted groundnuts on the house…the rest of the guys get pickles…what the hell happened to Cats Eye Joe ?...is he sick or something…will there be a substitute ?...if there is a substitute, then where the hell is the substitute ?...will he give credit ?...of course he will…Regulars get credit…but will the bloody substitute know that I am a Regular ?...what if he refuses credit ?...no no no that wont happen…what is wrong with the long needle…why is it not moving…is it stuck or something…I strain my eyes once again…the watch is working…the slender needle is shivering…it is moving from dot to dot…its moving in slow motion…its an automatic watch…used to keep good time…maybe it needs oiling…no need to shake it…it is automatically shaken…my hands are shivering…where is Cats Eye Joe ?...did he meet with an accident…is he dead…maybe he is dead…maybe they are mourning his death…maybe the door will remain closed today…but then , where is the black flag ?...people usually hang black flags to announce death…there is no black flag hanging anywhere…so Cats Eye Joe is still alive…sure he is alive…he will be here soon…oh boy…how can he be dead…the watchman never mentioned it …I owe him ten bucks…he is expecting twenty in return…he never mentioned the death of Cats Eye Joe…oh no…the tremors are coming like waves…no gaps in between…what if Cats Eye Joe has committed suicide …maybe he is hanging dead in his room…and nobody knows anything…what is that buzzing sound ?...is it coming from inside my head ?...where are you Joe…please come and open the door my li’l Joey…the buzzing sound is gaining pitch…its coming from my head…Joe…open up Joe…the buzzing sound is at a high pitch…yes…that’s it…my head is going to burst…please don’t die Joe…its not Joe who is dying…the buzzing sound is coming from my head…its me who is dying and not Joe…maybe I am already dead…yes…that’s the bloody fact…I am dead…GONG…a single bloody knell…that’s it…that was my death knell…bye everyone…will someone give the watchman a tenner…maybe he wont accept it…he may be sarcastic…but he is not the flesh mask type …what is that sound…oh yes its my head bursting…no no no…it’s a different sound…its not that buzzing sound…it’s a creaking sound…I have to open my eyes and look around…but my eyes are already open…but then, where the hell is the bloody door ?...what happened to the others …the Regulars…there were two of them standing outside the door…no no no…three of them…outside the door…where are they…what happened to them…what happened to the door…somebody is standing there…standing at the spot where the door stood…who is it ?...is he waiving at me ?..I. strain my eyes …yes he is asking me to come over…I am walking towards him…standing and waiving at me at that spot where the door stood…oh no…it looks like Joe…but the watchman said Cats Eye Joe is dead…oh no…is it his ghost or something…oh yes…its his ghost…I can see it because I am also dead…but then , why am I shivering and Joe is not…he is smiling at me…maybe some ghosts shiver and some ghosts smile…I am the shivering ghost and Cats Eye Joe is the smiling ghost…in any case I feel happy to see him ...he is giving me his arm for a support…he has a strong arm…my shivering arm on his strong arm…some ghosts are strong…I am sitting on a chair…its raining…should have taken an umbrella…

“You OK ?”

Its Cats Eye Joes voice…I can recognize it even in Hell…there…his green eyes are right in front of me…cats eyes…sharp…piercing…ouch…I feel a slight pain in both my cheeks…some body is slapping me…again the cold showers…

….and suddenly I feel the familiar taste …the burning taste…somebody is smearing my lips with fire…liquid fire…somebody is piercing my lips with spears…oh no…its paper straws…

“Sip up fast Sir”

I sip up fast…I can feel the flames in my mouth…my tongue is burning …my throat is on fire…I can feel the flames going down my throat…I sip up the last drop of fire…
I am still alive!...I need a fag…one of the three Regulars tosses a cigarette for me to catch…he can read my thoughts…Regulars can talk without talking…I catch air…the cigarette lands on the table…the Regular rises from his chair and picks up the cigarette…he is trying to put the cigarette between my lips…I say “its OK I can manage” without saying so…he apologizes for throwing it at me to catch…I accept his apology and match box…I light the cigarette…I take a deep drag…I feel good…the Regular guy feels good…I owe him a fag…I owe the watchman ten bucks…I owe Cats Eye Joe eighty bucks for my life saving double large with double straws and all…I feel double good…Cats Eye Joe is behind the counter…he winks at me…I wink back…I look at the time on my wrist watch…it shows a quarter to seven…the day is quite young…I stand up…no trace of the tremors…I pick up my empty glass…my hands are almost steady…I pick up the straws and throws them out of the window…I am a cripple no more…I’ve discarded my crutches…I raise my index finger at Cats Eye Joe…he raises the peg measure…its filled to the brim…he too can read my thoughts…glass in hand with the fuming cigarette dangling from my lips, I walk towards the counter…towards Cats Eye Joe…towards my next drink…towards my being…towards my nothingness.

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