Saturday, 06 October: 2035
As I wrapped a few apple peels in a wastebin, I saw an old and muffled newspaper already lying in it. Ah, the world of sportspersons, celebrities, politicians, insurance advisors, estate agents, slum, artists and everyone. And HJS’s.
What a commodity to have first early morning to read, and then to use it to wrap peels of fruits. I hated it.
It was an evening walk. I quickly revisited the task list for next day as (a) deposit term payment to LTA (b) download notes (c) call bank. The thoughts of court meeting next day brought spring in my stride, and then I slowed down. Walks after evening meals are meant to be slow, ahesta-ahesta.
I sensed some complexity in my walks. As if it was not simple enough. Something as *HJS* flashed across my eyes. That should not have been there. It was unfortunate. I wish I could take it out of that wastebin but it was too rubbished by then. Disrespected. I recalled all those newspapers I had with the editorials in The Tribune by Hari Jai Singh. A few pieces were absolutely marvelous, a lifetime treasure. Like a 281 by VVS Laxman. No technology had the DNA to match that, ever. I noted it on a paper, in CAPS
. I thanked the Inheritance, and cherished it forever with me.
When I picked the current newspaper, it looked like borrowed. Like a preoccupied mind. Or as if an over-crowded bus. The thoughts were there but were not meant to be. News are NOT meant to be that way. Newspapers are not planned like transport. The accountability is similar but repercussions are different. And the scale is different. I feel it almost daily, the absence of HJS. The constant of his absence.
And it started pouring outside. How much I love this smell. Perhaps the power goes off though I am not sure. The doctors have evolved. They are more sure now. Life is more predictable. This too is Indian summer
It is 24 years. But I will not be sad today. I am feeling like that key. Safe because I have been successfull to cherish HJS, CAPS, and Indian summer. Vulnerable because I am the CEO
. I checked the *skillset* on my LinkedIn profile and realized that I am endorsed by my owner as *not sure*. Could the keys unlock only cars? or fear also? She broke down that day, same day it was. Saturday, 06 October 2012. I dint.
Twenty three years later today, I could not comprehend what I was thinking. The writer in me had paused. It went for a toss. As if a double space after a period. The longest key
was in action for longer than it was required.
Life today had been the *awe* in *awesome*, again. The slow walk downstairs, the newspaper and the absence of HJS, the summer rain. The CAPS. The space. I am soaked like never before. Drenched.
As I gathered my thoughts, I felt that it was an awesome life. India completes 100 years of independence in 12 years, but this life started like a theatre 88 years back. It was no more a trial room for me. It is like a stage
I am no writer but his writerhood that I inherited brings this recap after 24 years. I hope to add to it some day.