Being Late

I was late this morning, very late. I was dreaming of her, yes her, you know her, her. Anyway, I was dreaming, and I did not allow the alarm to intervene in a particularly romantic sunset we were enjoying in some remote place, on the equally remote banks, of an even more remote lake. If you have any experience in matters of this sort, you’ll agree that it was worth being late for school.

Well, once the sun had sunk beyond the horizon, and its red orb had slipped below the rippling water, leaving just us, alone…. (you’ll find the rest in a romance… read one and return…) it was over, my subconscious decided to let reality set in. I opened my eyes, I raised my wrist to my eyes, and manage to focus on my watch. IST 7:20.

Panic! I should have left for school five minutes ago…

I jumped out of bed. No time for the usual 10 minutes of trying to convince myself that it really was worth it, you know, I’d learn something new, or do something fun, that’ll be an investment… for my future, and all that. I was on auto pilot… I was going to school, and I did not have time to ask why.

Standing in my underclothes (read night suit), I looked for my shirt.

Its lying on the chair opposite my bed, right below my nose, but I’d rather check the head of my bed, the wardrobe I never use, then jump on my bed, hang my head over the edge, crane my neck, and perform an acrobatic search in the gloom under my bed.

Not finding it in anyone of these ‘obvious’ places, I headed to the dining room; it is not on the fruit stand… I am sure the fruit stand is a common place to leave shirts, or the side board.

Suddenly a bolt of genius! May be I’ve put it in my cupboard.

I rarely put away my clean clothes, so the chances of me returning a dirty shirt to its shelves, roughly equal those of me putting it away at all, roughly, a gazillion to one.

It made perfect sense.

When you are awake, wishing you were in a dream, and worrying about plausible excuses, logic finds new paths: someone called it creativity. (not me.)

Out of the dining room, and back to mine. I reached for my cupboard, when, out of the corner of my eyes, I spotted my shirt.

Thank god our eyes have corners, because without them, I’d be lost. (No pun intended) I’d never find anything. It seems much easier to spot things from their corners than their centres. It is! The chair is bang opposite my bed: the first thing I see every morning.

I stood musing on, and thanking god for giving my eyes their wonderful corners, instead of putting on my shirt… you know, enjoying the achievement. See I was looking for my shirt, I had found it, in that moment that was all that mattered, I was living the moment, enjoying a well earned moment of triumph.

Do me a favour… Don’t Ask What The Hell…cause I don’t know.

The stupor ended, reanimation! I took up my shirt, and thrust one arm through a sleeve, slipped the other through the other (arm through sleeve of course), then buttoned it up. My shirt was done.

Half way through buttoning my shirt, I started wondering where my tie was. 


Promptly after buttoning it, I started looking for my trousers.

I was heading out to the dining room again, when alleluia! The corners of my eyes spotted them… God Really is Great!(despite any evidence to the contrary that you may encounter, including me).

One of the legs was dangling out of the wardrobe. I could not have put it there… must have been ma. I tugged at the leg, and the other leg followed the seat of my trousers out. I wondered why I did not spot them earlier… Of course! I was looking for my shirt!(of course!?)

So now I was standing in my shirt and trousers, next I needed to find my shoes and socks. Where were they… where did I put them… transalation: where did I take them off? The living room. Off I dash. Once there I realise, it was not…

Dad had insisted I eat my lunch before anything else so they would be in the dining room. I walked into the dining room. This time the centre of my pupils picked up the shoes, and socks lying under the table. So it was 2-1, in favour of the corners.

“Hang on,” I thought to myself, “shirt and trousers, socks and shoes that should be 2 all…” so 2 all it was. Justice wont be denied.

Slowly meditating on the justice of my decision, and the score, in the world cup finals of spot the uniform for Eduard, I think, I slipped on my shoes, preceded naturally by my socks.

Shirt, Trousers, Socks, Shoes… just my tie to go. Oh yeah! I am going to spare myself the embarrassment of telling you where I found it… well mostly its about saving the time, I do have more important things to do… or I will… eventually.

I was heading out to school, when the phone rang. I was the closest so I answered.

“Hello”

“Whad Up white boy?”

“Nothing, just heading out.”

“yeah about time too.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“Hell no! The cold is way too serious.” He was ill?!

“’Kay, take care of yourself. I’ll fill you in on everything… may be even the homework.”

“That I do not want to know. You sure you up for it?”

“Well naturally.”

“At eight in the morning? I’d rather go in the evening.”

“May be, but then they don’t change their timing for one crabbity kid.”

“Specially when theres white boy to freeze his rear end off huh?”

“Whatever,” I am getting bugged, not to mention late, “listen I got to go I don’t want to get more late.”

“Late? He called us at 8:30.”

“NO! its usual timing…”

“And that would be 8:30.”

“That cold must be messing up your head, the time has always been 7:20”

“Same time as school? Well why bother then, he’ll just take your ass. Might as well stay home, and go in the evening with me.”

If you thought that conversation was confusing, imagine being part of it. Was Divij talking to me or… you never really know with him.

The same time as school… it was school.

“Hey Divij, I’ll catch you later, (when you neural frequency is back within the limits of sanity).”

What was he talking about? Where else could I be heading on, “Bye Mum!”(over my shoulder, to the house in general) on a Thursday morning?

Then it hit me! and it hurt.

Thursday morning, as in Thursday the 26^th, morning?

Back to the house…

“Mum whats the date?”
“I thought you had left. Aren’t you late,” is her reply. Being a lady, you need to forgive her, and remember next time don’t bother asking. I was already looking up the calendar when she replied. Thursday… the 26^th alright.

Groan!

I went straight back to my room, got into my night suit, (the same one I was wearing last night) and went straight back to sleep. I had not set the alarm yesterday… and with good reason. 'Trust a woman to spoil a perfectly good morning,' I said to myself, hoping I'd dream of her again!