Dreams are quite expensive, though not as much as the Subway.  I chose the cheaper alternative – Life.

The day began with longing. No, not the one invloving contraceptives, but the longing for a sense of belonging to the prolonging clamour. Longing, in short.

On a more intellectual note, perhaps the clamour was silent, and the noise was within. I checked if the ipod was on. This was something more – the dreadful reminder of the crowded solitude, the nakedness of man faced with the absurd. Not with the insurance agent, but with the broader nothingness. Perhaps it’s an existential nausea, or may be it’s the Mexican food I ate.  

Interestingly, literature fascinates me. The other day, I walked into a bookstore at the sight of a well-proportioned member of the opposite sex. That apart, books touch me deeply though we are just friends. I remember, while in school, I read somewhere that what one feels, says or does resonates with what one does not feel, say or does. Consequently I stopped doing my homework, and dropped out of school. But, in the presence of intelligent company, I had a great upbringing. A friend once romanticized drinking as a solution to the meaninglessness of life. His narrative moved on to the likes of ‘a peaceful murder of everday’s truth, and a soulful rebirth the next day’. Before he could delve into intricacies, he was whisked away for his usual shock-therapy at the rehab and quite naturally, on his return, he was quoting Robin Sharma. In the absence of a Ferrari, our man had sold the monk living next door. Having said that, he was very loyal. Once when his girlfriend slipped off the stairs, he slipped off the stairs out of sympathy. He is currently employed by the NCERT to teach Sanskrit to the 1411 tigers.

Job security, money, relationships, masturbation, plumbing and so goes the endless chain of the daily struggle to exist, to make ends meet – sometimes, you are helpless and all you can do is get yourself a new pair of trousers to make the ends meet. Nevertheless, they meet. Perhaps nothing exists, and all of us are in someone else’s dream but I still get the electricity bills on time. I looked up at the endless sky for answers – what was it? A bird? A plane? No, it was Pratibha Patil waving from the Sukhoi.