A nanosecond in the life of a mind

It’s a crowded railway station. Shoulders rub against and bruise my own. How smelly. Puke. Footsteps are carefully choreographed. Tock, tock, tock. People run towards wrong trains. Tick, tick, tick. Before I digress, I must tell you about that time when I was playing tennis and a nasty boy kept tossing balls at my bottom. Oh my god, arthritic woman, you’re missing the train. Run! You’re going to be late for your exam. Have I packed my pens- black and blue- and my ruler? Frick, frick, frick- who was the ruler of Greece in 496 BC? You’ve missed the train. Go back home. You can’t come late for exams, admonishes a severe teacher. I beg, I cry… please let me attend! I haven’t attended a single grandparent’s funeral. Stupid, unlucky heap of muck, I am. Pigs feed on muck. And I feed on pigs. Oh my, wouldn’t it be nice to have a hearty steak now. Medium-rare, waiter. And you, friend? Will you have a mug of beer to wash down your fries? Stupid boy, stop aiming tennis balls at my bottom. What is your problem? But you do have such a cute smile. He’s so cute, I bleat. My friend agrees. We’re walking around a park. We’re supposed to be running. YOU’RE MISSING THE NEXT TRAIN TOO, HAG! You are making me very nervous. I need to be at the exam hall an hour before the exam begins. The driver is late. Hyperventilation. Hey you, good looking man, you’re stuck in my head. And I’m stuck in a moment. That walks of yours is driving me nuts. Don’t smile- doesn’t suit you. Try to get lost, please. Just two more hours and I have to get ready for work. I am going to feel so sleepy all day. Oh god, oh god. I look like a wet sock. And that pimple. I look so disgusting. I should run away to a mountain forest and begin farming. Waterfalls, fresh air, red-nosed, alone. Echoes. A fresh start. But, who will cook? So depressing. I’ll have to cook and farm? The waterfall sounds so nice. I wish I could stand under it and will it to cleave my body. One half for the kitchen, the other for the farm. Salt and pepper is the colour of your hair. Take me to your lair. Do you dare? Do you not care? Please be fair. We’d make a fine pair. Okay, okay, I’ll stop my poetry, whole. Yoinksss, all that poetry that was written for me. Eyes like a cooking pan, words in Tamil I can’t understan’. I am a black hole- mysterious and bearing powers of suction, you said. So sweet, so lame. You, yes you man of salt and pepper. You’re still here, I see. Why won’t you sod off? My best friend is this close to disowning me.  Sigh, she’s been there through all my self-inflicted nonsense. The sound of the departing train is killing me. My mother almost fell in that stinky gap between the train and the platform. Angels in white saved her, she insisted. Angels in the outfield. Such a nice movie. Flap, flap. Just like that Hindi song in that bromance movie. Flap, flap- retro style. Remember when we went for one of those school culturals and everyone started flapping when the song played? I had no clue what on earth they were doing. I was so uncool. Am uncool. Always the mouse. Mysterious mouse, I give myself that. I would donate myself to a lab. As long as I have my daily fix of methanol. Swig, high, drunk, dead. Oye, salt and pepper, come back, come back. I almost forgot about you. But you look positively delectable today. Just don’t smile, please. Stay stern and middle-aged. And do that walk. I can watch you do that manly sway all day. Hey, hey, here’s an ode to you. Type, type, type. And the poem is done! Just one more hour before it’s get-ready-for-office time. I will get back home early today and sleep. I will drink cough syrup. No, cough syrup is terrible for my skin. Beer is good. My steak is better. The lard is melting in my mouth. I might die of contentment this very moment. Swig. Hmmm, then what else? How’s it going with your lady? I have no boy scene. Blah. I don’t know why. Haven’t found Him. I haven’t visited my friend and her baby after the little dude’s delivery date. Should go, should go. Prioritise, Anu! I must visit the aunts too. I worry for them. So old, so frail, so insulated. And dear father. Sigh. I am so selfish. That’s hardly breaking news. I should run away to a mountain and farm. What kind of stuff grows on mountains, anyway? Tea? What else? I need to get away. Jeeeezus, airfare discount. Let us book tickets and go to Osaka. Flights. I won't sleep. Budget airlines and cramped seats. Malaysia Airlines. I am not scared. Whatevs. Dying is not the end of the world. Oh, hi. You like me? I like you too? You’re not really my type. But I like you. Salt and pepper. Salt and pepper… fades to grey. You want to give it a shot? Sure! Yayy. Let’s talk some more. I spoke like an idiot and ruined it. Good lord, I am hopeless. Salvation is never to be mine. Come back! One more shot? I look so disgusting. Eeeksarama. Anush Jal is a brand of water, did you know? I was named after my star but then they found out… oh you’ve heard that story a million times. Some more mash please, waiter. It’s terrible but I need it to finish off the remaining steak sauce. Slurp. I’m going to become so enormous. I want to be imprisoned in my room. With my books and music. That’s all I want. Sigh. Life is so unfair. I AM SUCH A WASTE OF SPACE. What am I doing with my life? My career? I will never live up to my potential. There’s still hope. I might die at 28. A year more and a few months. Over, gone and out. You’ve missed the train. Goddamn you.