This morning, like with all mornings this week, I have been dropping my mother at her office. So it is around 9am whn we finally leave the house and i am able to drop her off in about thirty minutes, and get back to my office in about another twenty minutes.
this morning, like other mornings was the same. I reached home, and decided that instead of waiting downstairs, I would go up and say hello. I also wanted to use this excuse to go up and collect my hands free – a small device on my mobile that I hve een missing sorely- so badly that i did not go cycling since I would not have music to listen to from the phone.
After dropping my mother off at her office, I started back. The drive back was un-eventful untill gemini flyover. What was so different today?
I come past gemini, and am on nungumbakkam highroad – or according to the official releases – uttamar gandhi salai. the reasoning behind this – can be asked to any body after handing them a patiala whiskey- which would make any true blooded man, woman and for pretty much any human – sozzled out of their sane minds.
So as i was driving past the Park hotel i see what appear to be busboys, hiding behind a pillar, but if they were attempting to hide it was a rather tactless move as the city in its entirity could see them, much like the ostrich. The guys had on such loose suits as one of them was demonstrating to the other- he pulled up the sleve of the suite, and adjusted the cuff of the shirt. Now that usually is how its done, in theory, but in practice- he yanked up the damn things almost till his elbow. Therefore, in a single, swift motion, he was able to demonstrate to the entire group of people who were stuck in traffic on the main road – that they dont know how to wear, correct fitting suits.
I personally was laughing at him, but what caught my attention was not the two of them, or the other security guards hanging around the hotel, nor the total lack of traffic on my side of the road and something that is more packed than a can of sardines with traffic on the other, but a lone man on a cycle.
I would have guessed his was either a carpenter or a plumber as he was carrying a hacksaw on his bike. He was looking at those two people with a mixture of awe, jealousy and ambition. That one fleeting second – I was thinking – how many times have i gone through that blend of emotions.
the realization came – life is made up of moments, and stringing these events together gives us the experience and a set of experiences is called life.