an amazing grace

I woke up dead. Heavy and pondering. The tea was cactus, the newspaper soggy and the insides out. As I carefully provoked myself to get out of the slumber, the scenes from last year came down. I sat in the early morning rain with my last cigarette of yesterday and got wet. Slowly. Helplessly waiting for the translucent clouds of memories to pass. With eyes wide open.

People have chided me for being stupid. For baring it all here. For being incapable of being mature (now this in today's day and age involves ignoring the subtler feelings of your being altogether and appearing calm. It also involves complicated, shish-kabobed thinking processes that benefit no one in particular, but apparently are beneficial to oneself). For attempting to hang onto something that has seemingly vaporised. Trying to hold on to images and words that have been a part of the best years of my life. And the people who contributed generously towards it. Millions of mornings, conversations and debates compounded into a little bitter pill. Now stuck at the throat. Halting any possible progress.

The scene at work isn't helping either. I am juggling four morons in one hand as they struggle to find their own centre of gravity. The other hand is busy trying to mollycoddle dim-witted, penny-pinching, rationale-eluding clients who seem depressed about my creative prowess most of the time.

And then the wishes started pouring in. Pouring is altogether a very strong word. Trickling, very slowly and infrequently is also grossly misplaced. But I will allow myself the luxury of a little exaggeration. Last night I slept after the third call. This morning my text inbox was overwhelmed by three pithy messages with the word 'dude' adorning the two little words as a prefix or a suffix. Also thanks to the inadequacies of Facebook, I got a couple of calls from old friends.

And then something happened. Just now. Something that can (and will) potentially alter the mood of this post. I got a phone call from my previous agency. They all came together and sang over the phone in various levels of cacophonic harmony. And I found myself sitting quietly again. Just like I did this morning. Only this time I had a smile that my face just couldn't handle. And entire fresh sets of previously unused muscles had to be called in to help out. I am better equipped to face the streets now. In fact, I am almost aggressive.

There's another reason for this mild arrhythmia of the heart today. I got a call that I wasn't expecting.

And that has made all the difference.

If you don't know Calvin, you have no reason to breathe. I wish Bill Watterson would come out of retirement.