Wednesday, May 8, 2013

12 Minutes of Mind Parkour

12 minutes. That is how much time I had left in the work day. I had 3 hours of free time only about 3 hours and 12 minutes back. I managed to drink a barrel of tea, read two longform essays and amused myself at reactions from fans upon Fergie retiring from Twitter football. Oh and spent at least one good hour of those three glancing at the clock. Incidentally we have two clocks over here - one that shows desi time and the other American. I keep comparing them, wishing that the American time was Indian and I had less than 3 hours and 12 minutes to wait out.

The abundance of time with nothing to do makes you a fine example of manic OCD. And I admit am a bit cracked upstairs, so... I think of myself being in solitary confinement, with my laptop a window of bleak sunlight . I look at the desk phone as if a lawyer from Costa Rica would call me up and say, "Hola amigo, come down to Mehhiko - you won 20 grande de hombres pal!" I know that doesn't make sense but what can a man with 3 hours and 12 minutes of free time on his hand do?

I swipe away at my phone, hold it to my ear, waiting for it to ring all of a sudden and embarrass me in public. Fucker is Manmohan Singh. I read about a team of daredevils attempting to mount Everest - from the  behind. I laugh at that joke. What can a man do other than laugh at a bad joke when he has 3 hours and 12 minutes of free time and with no Mount Everest to climb? From the behind? HahahahaOK FINE THIS IS NOT SANTABANTA.COM OK??

I switch between tabs and press refresh like Aladdin with a defunct lamp in the middle of an Iraqi street, wanting to be whisked away to Hawaii but the genie is busy working on Excel sheets in an IT firm in Guwahati. I glance at the unopened letters at the corner of my desk with the previous occupant's name on them, imagining them to be love letters from some girl in Libya who wanted to run away from Arab Spring and experience Bengali winter ("Dear, I hate Benghazi. A rocket just blew up my uncle and I think that $20 suicide vest is of no use now. Bloody hell. Why don't you send me my birthday check early sweetie?")

And suddenly just like that, those 12 minutes are up. The day is over. I tuck away my laptop with all its Excel sheets and white papers into the cabinet under my desk, ordering it under my breath into the bug-box and come clean on his friends for a plate of shwarma salad. And then I walk off, hoping that there would be a truckload of work tomorrow so that a man does not go on an insane parkour ride inside his mind!

1 comment:

  1. And I empathize with you dear. Mind parkour to game parlour, life changing idea ;) oh n a cha bar on the side :D and you have a deal!