I lay there staring at the dim light bulb going on and off, as aimlessly as the insects flying around it. The state of motion makes no difference now when neither has anything to do. The woolen t-shirt stuck to my back; I know it’s foolish if you look at the weather outside but I owe nobody an explanation. Dad’s glasses are hidden under the pillow so that I can blame it on him when he sleeps on it later. The lenses fell out when I kicked them off the bed a while ago, unintended but mistakes are intolerable here. There’s a scratch on one and a crack on another.
Who switched on the light on a bright afternoon like this? I couldn’t care less. I wish somebody turned the fan on but there’s a kind of comfort in the heat and sweat that touches me everywhere. A stillness plagues my world, an indifference to the world and reluctance to change got me paralysed while my demons reign free. Something someday may kill them, or me.
Bharath Upendra considers himself a regular Joe who unapologetically talks about the usual and obvious. Writing to him is like an uninvited guest who still hasn’t left and to whom he’s gotten used to anyway.
You can find more of his writing at Bharath’s Banter where he speaks his mind and writes his heart.
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