its a bright tubelit room i realise i am in. there are voices around me, about me and perhaps addressed to me. i am sitting cross legged on a chair, as i usually do. the chair is blue in colour, dark blue. the monitor is to my left, the keyboard beneath my left arm. i open my eyes to see, but they are already open and although everything is visible, there is nothing i can see.
slowly, in a split second slowness, the voices take form, shrill, sharp sounds once pleasant. the faces appear next, humanoids, arms, legs, sitting, standing, things resembling me.
gradually the cacophony ends. it was the information that one more of my works has gone waste. again. the voices and the faces and the arms and the legs leave the bright tubelit room, one by one.
i swiwel to face the monitor. there is a blank page with a cursor blinking on off on off on.
i jump and take another leap.
Born in New Delhi, India in 1980 and is a retired pessimist (still) living in New Delhi. He has Haryanvi ancestors, a Punjabi girlfriend, friends all over the world, two (or more) yet to be born children, (many) memories of (many) pet dogs and no cats ever. He holds an honours degree in English Literature from the University of Delhi and creates advertisements for paying the bills. His interests are universal, and include: living, eating, sleeping and when not sleeping, daydreaming. Other abiding interests include reading, writing, street photography, newspaper editorials, watching the moon and planning trekking trips that never materialize.
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