Monday, March 24, 2014

Oops! I am married to Excel, and I honeymoon with Outlook.

At this juncture of life, when girls at least a dozen years younger to me are multi-millionaires in the western part of the world, I am sitting at this airport waiting to board a flight which has been graciously paid for by my employer, and wait before you think that I am some kind of a handsomely paid MBA-pursued-tie-wearing-executive, or by any means rich, please note that I still dream or rather fancy an iPad, a similar kind of the one on which the 7-year old kid around me, being totally un-stationary and continuously making me feel so underprivileged, is playing Angry Birds Space (which seems to be the only purpose of the device to him) on that retina display and is probably his personal one as his father sitting opposite to me in a Chambray Blue shirt and crisp Grey trousers, is having his own full-size device; and even an overnighter bag like the ones almost everyone around me is carrying, neither of which I can afford out of my salary. And with the tides of thoughts, the frequency and subject of which are changing almost every micro second, I feel happy and puzzled about being born as a human being!

I still have not understood the purpose of life and without giving any consideration to this basic query of mine, my mother and relatives are at their wits' end to get me married as if that will unlock the treasures of the hidden temple for them! I don't know why she named me this, but a dear friend of mine calls me "bird" since the times when I never even knew that I wanted to fly. But now I can totally relate to it. Maybe, she is one real astrologer of some sorts.

The person to my right is busy clearing his Outlook inbox and the one left to me is tangled in the rows and columns of an excel sheet without realizing that was it this which he aimed at doing in his life? That he works like a slogging ass who has grown from a 39 collar size to a 44 collar size only to meet some client expectations in the coming few hours when his kid does not find his father by his side to drop him off to the school bus's stop. He could not afford to take a leave 'coz of this oh-so-important meeting which compels his presence when his wife/ girlfriend wants to catch up the first-day-first-show of a movie releasing today with a tub of over-priced pop-corn and a tumbler of some stupid cola (both highly unaffordable due to excessive and compulsive common sense I think that I possess), the ad of which tells us to scratch the label to get lucky and meet SRK, as if that's the Moksha in life! (Bloody hell, I don't even get to scratch my head if I am in front of a client considering "Business Etiquettes".) At least, I don't take a "Yes" for an answer that any of us wanted, if at comes at such cost price. 

Coming back to my present surroundings, all the females around here look young and fresh and few of them catch my eye just instantly for the reasons of either they exude the confidence of being the next Angel of Victoria's Secret in those pair of inches high heels or simply for the way they are dressed up in immaculate business attire or tops and denims which look to be custom-made for them if at all, one goes by the hug these clothes give to these lovely women, who smell as great as a bottle of Burburry Weekend, while I try to stand as close as possible to them making sure that nobody notices it, to fill my nostrils with that heavenly fragrance, while being in the queue to collect my Boarding Pass. 

As I feel great about all this, I have now started dreaming about flying either to California or Italy and roaming around in the streets dressed in a White linen shirt, a pair of light Blue denims and tan Brown boots and playing DJ in the deserts of Dubai some day. 

I may sound insane, but that's how I see life - unplanned and unpredictable. And now it's time for me to study, without being caught, this beautiful young girl who is sitting opposite to me in a Cream sheer shirt and coral Red trousers with matching lip color, paired with leopard-print wedges, as the overly baby-dolled air-hostess of the company I work for, has pleasantly requested me to switch-off my "iPhone" (I din't buy it, a scratch card scheme got me it). 

And if, when I am aboard and sailing above at 37,000 feet, I realize what's the "Purpose of Life", I'll just gulp down the juice of the Katrina of thoughts my lazely-cooked and over-conscious mind would present to me in a wine glass, and will keep you posted (even if you don't want to be). iSapath.

No comments: