Thus, Bejoy Babu enters into the thirtieth year of his great struggle for existence against the elements of this planet last week. Like his very first year, he did it again in a hospital room. Talk about the ironies of life. Back then, he had a young and energetic father, who had sat hours on end admiring the red little thingy in a white wrapper (am hoping he did, most newly promoted fathers do, don't they? At least Ross Gellar of Friends did when Ben was born!). And now, 29 years later, his father was lying down weak, with tubes attached to his body, while he sat hours on end looking at him. Not admiring, but worried when his father will become alright, he will be able to go back, whether his leaves would affect his job, how the great plans of a first birthday together with his wife was spoilt etc etc. Oh 'cmon, there's no use being pretentious about it. Nobody enjoys this particular disposition. He didn't do it either, and he managed to kill time with 2 activities.
1. Looking at the nurses.
They were all kinds. Young ones, old ones, the haughty kinds and the hottie kinds, ones more slender than the needles they beheld, and the ones so plump, it makes one wonder whether they dont get any coscience attack when they say. "Uncle, your BP is shooting up, you gotta reduce your weight!"
So he looked at all of them, and didn't have any reservations about it. As many of you would agree, this is one thing the male species enjoy about being in a hospital. Aren't there numerous great tales of men who turned into pussydolls in the presence of these loving caring always-smiling clad-in-white angelic creatures, hopelessly fell headlong in love with them and never wanted to leave the hospital? - One affliction turned into another.
But his case was a little different.
Wasn't he morally obliged not to look? Yeah that 12 letter word of ridicule you just uttered was audible enough. But wait, there's more to the story. He was morally obliged not to look, starting the day he decided that he had found the match of his life, but that never really made him stop looking. It wouldnt be fair to call him fickle minded, for he had made an attempt to avert his gaze during the initial days of his romance. The profound question that had hunted him down was "What the hell am I looking for now, am I not supposed to be loyal to my girl?" But then later, he understood one more truth about life. A man cannot help looking. But something had changed about the way he looked now. While he was single, the look was at its purest, most natual form, which even contained ingredients of a small chance of attainability. ("Yeah you're Angelina Jolie, I know, but what the heck, look at me, am single!"). Now, that he was married and had pledged his loyalty to someone special, the look was different.
He particularly enjoyed to feel the air of tension, the restraint that was written all over their faces, while he looked at some of them. They would be undergoing a great deal of consternation internally, trying to concentrate on the syringe and the vein, while being aware of the fact that someone was staring at them. Two of the most conflicting aspects of their womanhood would be drawn for battle against each other, knowing that whoever wins ultimately, they themselves would fail. They would not even dare to steal an occasional cold stare back in defense, for it would be betrayal against all that they tried to represent. He enjoyed thinking about all these a great deal while looking at them, drawing a kind of sadistic pleasure. P had told him the same day - "Dey podey ketti kazhinjaalum vaay nokkam" (Its okay to stare at women even if you're married). But it was never the same!
The things mentioned above were purely his fantasies, and they could be factually very wrong, the women readers be advised. But nevertheless, why shun from saying the truth, being concerned of propriety!
2. Reading about the Mediterranean
"The pillars of Hercules" is undoubtedly the best book he has read in more than 6 months, and by the way its shaping up, likely to become one of the best ever. Don't be misled by the numbers, because the list of books he read in the past 6 months is not particularly deep, running into a whole of 2 books! The other being "The Last Mughal". While the former could be termed as un-put-downable, the latter was very, err... put-downable. And hence the 6 months. But it would be blasphemy to call the book bad, its a fine book indeed. Only that he found it hard to read.
Maybe he'll talk about the book himself sometime later in the blog. But, in a nutshell, thats how he marked the beginning of his 30th year here. Yeah, there were other things too. But I dont think anybody would be particularly interested as he was, on how a flock of cranes spent half an hour circling the same locality trying to figure out which tree to spend the night on.
But considering all the previous birthdays were uselessly spent cutting cakes and drinking wine, this was quite a feat, wouldn't you agree?
