By Nishanth S Coontoor
When the 6 am alarm woke me up, I was glad it was a Monday morning. I prefer work weeks to weekends. When I tell people that I dread the weekends, many laugh and conclude I am a workaholic. I would have welcomed the remark in front of the boss. I may have, just may have, got a raise. But these friends, I am sure, did not even know what I did for a living. And in any case, we all know how the conversation on “raises” go anyway. I had recently finished a review myself. I almost told my boss to keep the “raise” until it adds up to something significant. I then remembered the loan on my phone and humbly accepted the additional $20 per paycheck.
No, I prefer Mondays because it brings back the eat-sleep-work routine that I closely follow to the T. Grocery shopping every Sunday afternoon is the only allowable disruption. Work is a distraction to keep the mind occupied. Weekends disrupt this schedule. And the mind does not know what to do with the time on hand.
I get out of bed. I get some tea. I sit. I log into Facebook.
‘Martin Luther King Day Weekend Sale at Walmart’- an Ad pops up.
Today is a holiday. It is the long weekend.
I look outside the balcony. It’s still dark. I haven’t seen the sun in days. It’s dark when I get to work at 8 am. It’s dark at 5 pm when I leave work. Reheated Dal-chawal is eaten at noon under the bright tube lights of the cafeteria.
I stand up, lean on the balcony door tilting my head to the left to see if it snowed last night. A cold stream of air hits my shin through that small gap in the door. I adjust the stubborn door again. It still won.
I see several inches of fresh snow.
I go back to the chair thinking about the snow cover on the car. It took me 20 minutes yesterday to scrape snow off the car in the -15-degree weather. No, I was digging the car out of snow.
‘Enjoying the sun and sand in Florida with Vikas Shah and 15 others’
‘Eating masala dose at Vidyarthi Bhavan eating evening snacks with Akshatha S and 3 others’
‘Aishwarya and Vikram are celebrating 8 years of their friendship’
‘My husband was the best thing that happened to me! with Amar Singh and Priyanka M Amar Mehta-Singh’
‘I hope the concerned government authorities look into the matter. This video is disturbing!!!’
I see more posts. I have no reactions to add though. But its 8 am now and I have scrolled through the Facebook feed for 2 hours. Everyone is doing something productive with their life. I stop scrolling and the blue screen stares back. I could almost hear a ‘eh?’
I switch to YouTube. I stare at the homepage for a few minutes.
I switch back to Facebook.
I open a new tab.
I am not sure where to go from here.
The silence is broken by a sound of an ambulance in the distant. It passes quickly.
I close my eyes. I lay still in my chair. I can hear myself breathing in-breathing out.
The last time I heard myself intently breathe in and breathe out was on New Year’s. But the situation was so much different. What a night it was!
A group of 9 friends decided to rent a cabin at a state park for New Years. The plan was to welcome the year and go hiking the next morning. This meant a 12.30 am sleep curfew was imposed. We were determined to make it happen.
It was a 3-bedroom cabin with 3 beds in each room.
As soon as it hit 12.30 am, I diligently killed the music and the party, wished everyone a happy new year and reminded them of the impending hike next day. “But its New Years!” said Prashanth. “We can’t sleep so soon.”
I could see his enthusiasm transition into pure hatred toward me as I continued to kill the mood with a lecture. This was way past my bed time too. And just like that, by 12.50 am, we were all ready to fall asleep.
“I’m sorry Prashanth,” I said, looking toward Prashanth’s bed. “You will thank me after seeing the sunrise.”
“Don’t talk to me Bit*h. You interrupted my Kala Chashma dance. It was epic!”
I could hear Laksh giggling.
“Wait, what did you call me?”
“Bit*h! You better stay away from me you … I will get you for this.”
“It’s the alcohol talking. Do you want some filter kaapi?”
1:00 AM. Sleep is eluding me. I say a quick prayer: “Ramaskandam Hanumantham …”
1:10 AM. Still no sleep. I thought prayers work. I’m going to ask for a refund.
1:15 AM. Prashanth begins to snore.
Never having spent time beyond an evening with this group, it hadn’t occurred to me to identify and outcast the snorers in advance. I am a light sleeper who, given the right conditions, could probably even hear your hair grow.
1:20 AM. Snoring has hit the fan, ceiling, the four walls and me.
I tossed and turned in bed five times. I did a 180 degree flip and swapped the pillow position closer to the door. I was always told to keep the head furthest from the door in case of an attack. I was willing to risk my life today.
1.35 AM. Still no sleep.
“He he he,” I heard Laksh laugh from under his sheets.
“Are you still awake?” I whispered.
“Maybe,” came a reply.
“Dude, lets wake Prashanth up,” I whispered back.
“Isn’t that rude?” his face still hidden under the sheets.
The snoring grew louder.
“Who the ….” Suhas stormed in our room, ready to beat up the culprit. “We can hear this Bhains through the wall!”
I sat up straight on my bed. The rest of the party joined the room.
A group of 8 sleep deprived individuals and 1 overly rested individual were now sitting in the dark at 1:55 AM, Jan 1 2017 looking at one another for a solution.
“We need some white noise. I’ll turn on the fan.”
We all looked up in unison. The fan was already running ever so quietly. “Damn, where is my Usha fan when we need it.”
Google boy “Googly” Manish decided to look up a solution online.
“Here’s a 8 hour white noise fan YouTube video,” he excitedly announced. “But who can stream the video? Do you have data to spare?”
I made myself comfortable, leaned against the wall avoiding eye contact and the open question. Googly leaned on the door disappointed. He continued to search online, his faith in Google still strong. He was a software engineer. I don’t blame him.
“We need an unexpected sudden noise to scare the snore away,” Suhas said. “I’ll punch him,” he added, quickly making a fist.
“Wait, wait. Hold onto your violent streak Mr. Hulk.”
I dropped the water bottle to the floor making a “thud” noise. All eyes turned toward the sleeping lump. The snoring stopped. It changed its sleeping position and resumed snoring.
We then went on to try fake coughing over the snoring decibel. It did not work.
We tried poking the snoring belly from a one arm distance (for safety) to wake up the Kumbhakarna.
“Charge, one quick belly tap and a quick retreat.”
It did not work.
We increased the belly tap frequency to three taps a second. It still failed.
Still hiding under the sheets, we could hear Laksh taking deep breaths.
“What is he up to now?” sighed another.
“I’m syncing my breathing with the snoring. Take a deep breath in as the snore reaches its peak and let go.”
3 minutes into the meditation for restoring peace and quiet and its 2:57 AM now.
I turned off the fan. We huddled together to develop a new strategy. 30 seconds into a pros-cons discussion, we hear a “Who turned off the fan?”
Prashanth was up.
“Are you all ready to take a hike?” he asked.
I play the Kala Chashma video on my phone. I should call Prashanth, I tell the now excited self! I dial. The call connects. Its ringing. I try clearing my throat. I haven’t spoken with anyone since Friday evening. And for the first time over the weekend, I am smiling.
It’s still ringing.
‘Sorry, 9197652… is not available right now. Please leave a message at the beep. Have a nice day. Beeeeep’
I cut the call. He must be busy.
Its 11.20 am now and the hunger is returning to haunt. The stomach has started grumbling as well. I drink some water to pacify it. It still won’t listen.
I drag myself to the kitchen. The living room looks like an obstacle course with worn clothes lying around, groceries from the shopping yesterday, work laptop and its bag in another corner and not to forget shoes.
I turn on the kitchen light.
Unwashed dishes are lying in the sink piled one above the other. Recent on top. Oldest at the bottom. I have used up all utensils. I open the refrigerator. It’s as empty as my stomach. I close it to open the freezer. What was I expecting to find in there?
I have no mood to cook. Sigh. I turn off the kitchen lights and go back to the earlier sitting posture.
10 minutes pass. I’ve aimlessly scrolled through more Facebook feed. I am getting a slight headache. I need to eat.
I push myself to get out of my chair. I make my way back to the kitchen. I open and close cupboards hoping to find something to eat. I stare at the refrigerator for 10 more minutes before popping two scoops of sugar and turning towards the dirty dishes.
I randomly play an episode of Malgudi Days on Youtube to break the silence. ‘Ta Na Na TaNa Na Na Naaa…’ Oh, the sweet comfort of familiarity.
I begin scrubbing the first utensil. I had eaten curd rice the entire week, twice a day, through the week.
“I eat curd rice every day. Its tasty and healthy,” Niveditha had explained when we last met. I knew her from Class 5, B Section. She was roll number 23. I was roll number 22.
Two years ago, one month in advance, we scheduled a meet up. It was a Friday evening. We were going to eat Italian at The Cheesecake Factory.
But she had a dilemma. The foodie in her wanted to eat pasta and cheesecake. The South Indian in her felt betrayed.
So, we ended up at the restaurant to eat four cheese pasta with two parrot green Tupperware containers containing curd rice and pickle.
‘Remember the curd rice story?’ I text her. Why not call her directly?
I dial. Its ringing.
It’s still ringing.
“Hi this is Niveditha. I am not available right now. Please leave a message.”
She must be busy.
I abandon the dirty dishes and decide to pick up some food. I can pick a place on the way.
While the engine is heating up, I am sitting in the driver’s seat looking up yelp. After scrolling for 10 minutes, I close the app and decide to just begin driving.
A few minutes into the drive and I join the highway.
Where do I go, where do I go.
A few more minutes and I take exit 188.
Where do I go, where do I go.
Two lefts and one right later, I’ve arrived at the parking lot of the grocery store I was in yesterday exactly 24 hrs later.
Driving to pick up groceries was a 1 pm Sunday afternoon ritual.
But today was no Sunday. Or is it? No, no. Facepalm.
I restart the engine. I begin to leave the parking lot to eventually rejoin the highway.
2 minutes into the drive, I think I hear a sound.
Ring Ring. Ring Ring.
Glossary:
Dal-Chawal: An Indian food comprising of rice or chawal and lentils or dal.
Kala Chashma: Literally translates to Black glasses/shades. It’s the name of a Bollywood dance number.
Kaapi: Indian filter Coffee.
Ramaskandam Hanumantham: Starting words of a prayer.
Bhains: Hindi word meaning Buffalo.
Usha fan: Fan brand in India.
Kumbhakarna: a Mythological character who slept 6 months straight.
Curd Rice: a dish containing yogurt mixed with cooked rice and salt.