The morning started out ok. Woke up at 9. Showered. Dressed. Takes me a while to come to terms with the world, so don't remember much about the morning till then. Dadi looked slightly off, but she's looked slightly off before. Nothing that another dozen colored pills won't solve, right?
Wrong.
The only significant interaction I had with her was after I put on a shirt. Went up to her room, asked her how I looked (wearing a shirt is a bit of a ritual, since I generally don't do it too often). She said she had no clue.
Not a downer by itself-she's been putting up with my retarded fashion choices way too long-but her responses are generally more positive.
Either way.
Either way.
Put on a Tshirt instead (white, Harry Potter motif, old reliable) and off to college it was.
Here's what I did in college today:
1.) Mooching about
2.) Marxism
3.) Mooching about
4.) Ice-cream
5.) Mooching about
6.) Gaming arena (Call of Duty, let's kill us some motherhumpers)
7.) Mooching about
8.) Going Home
Called home from Kashmiri Gate - my Mausi resides at Connaught Place, a visit is long overdue, and have been instructed to call home in case I am delayed for some reason.
Mom said she had some work for me. Told me to come home.
Her voice didn't quiver.
Her laughter did not sound contrived.
I came back to an empty house.
Because while I was away, this is what my grandma had been up to:
1.) Dizzying spells
2.) Disorientation
3.) Nausea
4.) Bouts of confusion
5.) A complete loss of will power.
That last one means she could not even muster the strength to get out of bed.
And you thought you were having a bad morning, eh? Ha ha ha. What a card you are.
And you thought you were having a bad morning, eh? Ha ha ha. What a card you are.
Try building a joke around the punchline provided.
Ready? Set? Go.
Brain hemorrhage.
She was hospitalized somewhere between 1.30 and 2PM, which means mom already knew when I called her in the afternoon.
Dad thought it would be best if I wasn't told over the phone.
Apparently they did not want me running over to the hospital and making a nuisance of myself.
They are currently in the process of shifting her to Ram Manohar Lohia Hospital. And while I can see why they wouldn't want me turning up and being a hindrance rather than a help, it pains me slightly to note I cannot read my own parents. We tell ourselves how we're keen judges of human response, how we can read our friends' tells without breaking a sweat, and here I am, a stranger to the house of my father, so to speak.
And while on the subject of the fallacy of human nature (I am going to assume the rest of the human race is as inept and retarded as I am), who am I going to talk to, about this? My closest friends from yesterday are either as insensate as I am or out of touch (through no fault of their own, let me tell you - I would fall out of touch if I were them, and since they're obviously not smart enough I have no qualms making the call for them). The ones I made today are nice people. Do not want to dump this upon them, because I don't know how they'd respond. I mean, I wouldn't know if I were them, either.
So that leaves You. Who have read this far because either
A.) You have nothing better to do, or
B.) You thought I had something worthwhile to say.
Do you have something comforting to say? The one other person I told said I should buck up. He talked about how I'd been the one he turned to when he lost someone close to him. He also said that while RML has the best neurosurgeons in the world, I should prepare for the worst.
Could you do better?
Didn't think so.
Are you still here?
Good.
Here is what I have to say to you:
A.) Do something more productive. Life is a fleeting bitch and you have no clue what she'll throw at you next; and
B.) The amphitheater of your world is running empty. So stop listening to the lines that the actors keep spouting. Watch their body language instead.
Words can be fickle bastards.
Now fuck off and let me brood in peace.
