If you happen to have a brain cell or two similar to mine, you’ll be suffering from my problem as well. Although in a more formal company, if I ever had to mention it, I would probably boast about it as being my highly developed creative streak. But in real, it is just an exercise which acts as a huge distraction and does not solve any purpose. And what exactly am I ranting about here? It would be easier to explain with the help of an example:
As usual I don’t have a place to rest my derriere in the fantastically crowded metro. I still wonder from where did so many women come in city? Anyway, I am drifting again. So, in the metro my shins are rubbing with a girl’s knee who is sitting right in front of me. I am engrossed in my book and am trying to push back a fat auntie’s even fatter handbag when I hear a loud sniff. I lower down my book. I am greeted with a very moving sight of the girl with her nose tomato red, cheeks streaked with smudged kohl and hands wringing a very creased towel napkin. It is very obvious that she is distressed and her anxiety is so great that she is forced to display her grief in public. Out of habit I ask her if she is fine and immediately I regret bothering. The girl throws a killer look at me which clearly says: Mind your own business, B*tch! So, I shrug nonchalantly and get back to my book, only to find out that I just can’t concentrate anymore. My mind is busy making up theories behind the girl’s state. Maybe she has had a terrible fight with her boyfriend (C’mon, I can be more original than THAT, dear brain!). Maybe she has been kicked out from her job. Maybe she has had an argument with friends or parents. Maybe her boyfriend dumped her or she walked in his room only to find him cheating on her (Cliché, let’s please move on and think beyond boyfriend related issues, brain!). Maybe someone died. Maybe she found out that she is suffering from an incurable disease. Maybe she was listening to a sad song which reminded her of something sad. Maybe she lied to her parents to meet her boyfriend; her parents found out and ordered her to come right back and now she is scared of the consequences. But then she wouldn’t cry before she faces the consequences, would she? (Ok, I admit, most of the girls cry like babies because of boyfriend related issues only. Happy dear brain? You win!).
Even after the girl had somewhat pacified herself and was fixing her make – up, I was bubbling with curiosity. What could have made the girl cry buckets in the metro?
So now you understand what problem I was referring to? Ofcourse it can act as a brilliant means of time pass but what usually happens is, that this ‘curiosity’ generally pops up when you are supposed to concentrate elsewhere. Like this other day, I had finally decided to start studying for my M.A. exams. With a heavy heart, I had replaced my half read novel with study notes in my office bag. While waiting for my metro on the platform, going through my notes, I saw a distinctly middle aged woman. She was donning a kurta with fitted leggings which emphasized all the wrong curves. Her face had laugh lines and dark spots and her eyebrows were artlessly darkened. I could see gray hair near her ears and on her hairline. There was no doubt she would be either 40 years of age (if I give her too much leverage) or older. I kept staring at her with a raised eyebrow wondering what exactly is weird about this woman. When I saw that the woman had noticed me gawking at her I turned my gaze. But then in a few seconds I was looking at her again trying to find out what was different. And then I noticed the red and white sparkly wedding bangles that were adorning her wrists. For those who don’t know, first of all you should be ashamed of not knowing, and secondly, red and white bangles are worn by newly married women for about a year till after their wedding. Don’t ask me why, I have no clue, but they are quite the rage! Anyway, just when the bulb in my mind lit, the metro came and we boarded it. Now, as I tried to focus on my notes my mind kept wandering to the woman again and again. Infact I found myself combing the coach with my eyes searching for that woman. And when I did find her, I found it hard to look away. I am sure she noticed my shameless gawking as well and kept giving me sly looks as well. So while I forcefully made myself read my notes, I couldn’t help not wondering about this woman’s story. Why is she wearing those wedding bangles? (Stupid question Brain!) How come she got married so late? Maybe this was her second marriage. But why would she want to advertise her second marriage by wearing that red and white chooda that young and newly wedded girls love to flaunt? Maybe she just got married late. Does she not feel weird wearing them at this age? What would she have been thinking when she would have made up her mind to wear the bangles? Is she used to people staring at her wrists? Why did she get married so late? Was it a love marriage? And so on…
I know it is shallow of me to think like that for someone I don’t know. But, as the saying goes, Curiosity got the cat. Everyone has a story. You might find your story utterly boring or sad but you can’t imagine how much it can tease and torture someone like me! I see a young boy with a band-aid on his elbow and this sets my neurons off! I spend a good 15 – 20 minutes cooking up a story behind that band – aid. Agreed that it is a distraction, but, it definitely is a lot of fun as well. You might find endings to some stories, but for most, you would just have to be more creative.
So, what’s your story?
As usual I don’t have a place to rest my derriere in the fantastically crowded metro. I still wonder from where did so many women come in city? Anyway, I am drifting again. So, in the metro my shins are rubbing with a girl’s knee who is sitting right in front of me. I am engrossed in my book and am trying to push back a fat auntie’s even fatter handbag when I hear a loud sniff. I lower down my book. I am greeted with a very moving sight of the girl with her nose tomato red, cheeks streaked with smudged kohl and hands wringing a very creased towel napkin. It is very obvious that she is distressed and her anxiety is so great that she is forced to display her grief in public. Out of habit I ask her if she is fine and immediately I regret bothering. The girl throws a killer look at me which clearly says: Mind your own business, B*tch! So, I shrug nonchalantly and get back to my book, only to find out that I just can’t concentrate anymore. My mind is busy making up theories behind the girl’s state. Maybe she has had a terrible fight with her boyfriend (C’mon, I can be more original than THAT, dear brain!). Maybe she has been kicked out from her job. Maybe she has had an argument with friends or parents. Maybe her boyfriend dumped her or she walked in his room only to find him cheating on her (Cliché, let’s please move on and think beyond boyfriend related issues, brain!). Maybe someone died. Maybe she found out that she is suffering from an incurable disease. Maybe she was listening to a sad song which reminded her of something sad. Maybe she lied to her parents to meet her boyfriend; her parents found out and ordered her to come right back and now she is scared of the consequences. But then she wouldn’t cry before she faces the consequences, would she? (Ok, I admit, most of the girls cry like babies because of boyfriend related issues only. Happy dear brain? You win!).
Even after the girl had somewhat pacified herself and was fixing her make – up, I was bubbling with curiosity. What could have made the girl cry buckets in the metro?
So now you understand what problem I was referring to? Ofcourse it can act as a brilliant means of time pass but what usually happens is, that this ‘curiosity’ generally pops up when you are supposed to concentrate elsewhere. Like this other day, I had finally decided to start studying for my M.A. exams. With a heavy heart, I had replaced my half read novel with study notes in my office bag. While waiting for my metro on the platform, going through my notes, I saw a distinctly middle aged woman. She was donning a kurta with fitted leggings which emphasized all the wrong curves. Her face had laugh lines and dark spots and her eyebrows were artlessly darkened. I could see gray hair near her ears and on her hairline. There was no doubt she would be either 40 years of age (if I give her too much leverage) or older. I kept staring at her with a raised eyebrow wondering what exactly is weird about this woman. When I saw that the woman had noticed me gawking at her I turned my gaze. But then in a few seconds I was looking at her again trying to find out what was different. And then I noticed the red and white sparkly wedding bangles that were adorning her wrists. For those who don’t know, first of all you should be ashamed of not knowing, and secondly, red and white bangles are worn by newly married women for about a year till after their wedding. Don’t ask me why, I have no clue, but they are quite the rage! Anyway, just when the bulb in my mind lit, the metro came and we boarded it. Now, as I tried to focus on my notes my mind kept wandering to the woman again and again. Infact I found myself combing the coach with my eyes searching for that woman. And when I did find her, I found it hard to look away. I am sure she noticed my shameless gawking as well and kept giving me sly looks as well. So while I forcefully made myself read my notes, I couldn’t help not wondering about this woman’s story. Why is she wearing those wedding bangles? (Stupid question Brain!) How come she got married so late? Maybe this was her second marriage. But why would she want to advertise her second marriage by wearing that red and white chooda that young and newly wedded girls love to flaunt? Maybe she just got married late. Does she not feel weird wearing them at this age? What would she have been thinking when she would have made up her mind to wear the bangles? Is she used to people staring at her wrists? Why did she get married so late? Was it a love marriage? And so on…
I know it is shallow of me to think like that for someone I don’t know. But, as the saying goes, Curiosity got the cat. Everyone has a story. You might find your story utterly boring or sad but you can’t imagine how much it can tease and torture someone like me! I see a young boy with a band-aid on his elbow and this sets my neurons off! I spend a good 15 – 20 minutes cooking up a story behind that band – aid. Agreed that it is a distraction, but, it definitely is a lot of fun as well. You might find endings to some stories, but for most, you would just have to be more creative.
So, what’s your story?
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