It was thought that the gods blew on creative people, who would then inhale the god's breath and have an idea. This is the premise of "inspiration": inhaling divine breath and ideas.

Monday, August 4, 2008

When disaster strikes.....




As I saw Motu approaching I looked around in dismay and consoled myself saying that half the day's work atleast done before this endless conversation session will start. Then I began searching frantically for cotton to stuff my ears. After so many years of friendship, I know the precautionary measures needed to be taken while you engage in a heart to heart conversation with Motu. You may want to call me 'selfish' selfcentred' person: please reconsider your statement by the end of your story.

'Kya Bhai, even now you have that ear infection? Why don't you go to the city for some good treatment?' Motu said pantingly as he entered my cloth shop.

Have you anytime had this feeling of doom going to set in, which makes you realize how short and sweet life was, how the days went by un-noticed? I have, several times and more so when my dearest friend sets his foot in my modestly sweet life. They say 'Tragedy' is like an un-invited guest, but truly in this case the 'un-invited guest' is a tragedy.

'You look wan and thin. Isn't your wife treating you well? You really need a doctor check up.' Motu said as he settled down in a chair and began fanning himself with the newspaper. 'This heat is intolerable.' he murmered.

I was hail and healthy minutes before I realized this approaching disaster. I am healthy even now, look how Motu has already reached two diagnoses for my apparently disease free state. That's his capacity. In a few minutes he will be diagnosing me for a million other conditions. I forgot to tell you earlier, Motu as a child dreamt of being a doctor. Though his dreams remained un-fulfilled he always poses to be a doctor.

Motu began his conversation of how one of his friend had neglected his health and ended up in a hospital and blah blah..... I pushed the cotton pieces deeper in and this time it finally did the miracle. I could only hear certain exclamations of surprise, terror and distress. I never spoke a word and continued with the folding of the discarded clothes. But it seemed Motu had atleast narrated 3 to 4 biographies by this time.

When he began to finally get up, I threw the cotton pieces and decided to play the part of a good host. 'But Ramu, I forgot to tell you about kamala Bai. you have to listen to this story.....' One after the other, five more 'sagas' passed when finally he decided to let go off me. I really had turned pale by then. The words seemed to have a deteriorating effect on me. I was about to pass out.....

You know sometimes, it's just not your day!

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