Saturday, November 22, 2008

tell me what is the time?

even gmail has themes now.

if there is a theme for my life, then this is it..this is it..

the sketch of a careless clock. the long needle is twisted like in a dali painting...the small one does not exist. and i am sitting against a wall where this broken clock hangs like a giant's shadow.and the look on my face looks absolutely desperate.
but there is a bottle of fun in my hand and around my neck there are long necklaces with junk, party jewels. and there is an eerie voice somewhere in the painting, i dont know how to paint that, which keeps repeating in the worst monotone that can ever be imagined: tell me, what is the time? tell me what is the time? tell me what is the time?

oh i have to cook !
i have to make that stupid silly sambar i promised my family and they believed it like stupid silly people.. B even took care to arrange the hing and the sambar powder on the kitchen shelf, with the sullen and silent reminder that i better make dal or else!
or else what? nothing. i will just fall further from the status of being woman, human, mother, wife...
as if i care !!

omg, i have to finish writing that book !!
he will call me today i am sure, with all those smiles and that kindness, which is far worse than axes that break your head. and i will feel my stomach throbbing with what i now recognize as the worst attack of squeamishness or guilt..
but everything passes.. the conversation will end, i will squeeze the end button like a ripe pimple, and i will throw the mobile into the heaps of clothes on the bed - btw i really have to wash my clothes or what will i wear to college on monday? - so that i wont even hear it when he calls me next time, and i will forget all about it !!!

i have to correct that thesis on english language teaching in yemen. that man has been begging and pleading for those last thrity pages: madam, i am writing you again, after waiting for more than three weeks...
as if i even complete reading it! or far worse, am i beginning to get some pleasure making him plead?

i need to get an hair cut. i need to make those life changing calls that i promised to jane, jeena and jessy (and of course, tom, dick and harry) and i need to at least reply mails that have been patiently asking me for the nth time, whether i can find some time to write back at least once, so that they can make some move, some decision, take a position, go hit someone, etc, etc...

i need a new painting on my lonely wall that feels no commitment to no one or anything at all. i need a real clock there, with real solid needles, that show the time. and the eerie ghastly voice needs to be replaced with the mechanics of tick tick tock...

and at any given point, i need to be able to give the right answer to anyone who asks: tell me what is the time?