Pondering Posthumously

Yesterday, I was walking past a Starbucks coffee shop which had the name inscribed on my side in Tamil. It read ‘Starbucks kaapi’. Below that, it had what seemed like a tag line. I read ‘Adada Alliance’. My brow furrowed. What did this mean? Did they mean ‘Starbucks coffee! Adadaa!’ (The latter being an expression of wonder in Tamil). But where did the ‘alliance’ come from? Were they referring to the alliance between Starbucks and coffee? ‘Perhaps ‘Adadaa Alliance’ meant ‘A wonderful alliance’? So .. Starbucks coffee, a wonderful/rocking alliance?

Hmm.

By this time, I had reached the English end of the shop. Now I read ‘Starbucks coffee.

A Tata Alliance.’

I wake up and almost immediately realize that a good friend of mine needs 5476 signatures for a petition. I promptly reduce the number to 5475. I mean, anything for a friend, right?! Then I see that another friend has changed her profile picture. She actually looks much better in person but since she likes many of my posts, I decide to ‘like’ her picture. I note that many people have responded with hearts and kisses. One guy has commented ‘Sexy pic dear!!!’. Briefly, I wonder who he is and what must be going on in her mind, having read that comment. Then I come across some political posts. I quickly like those that fit in with my line of thinking and ignore the rest. One jobless fellow, having discovered that his character fits in with the qualities of tomato, has proudly posted it. Another has written a long poem that I start reading but don’t have the patience to finish. Someone I don’t remember at all has suddenly invited me to like two of his pages. I curse him under my breath and unfriend him. Then I switch to Twitter and find zero notifications. I heave a sad sigh and shift hopefully to Instagram. There I find that a lingerie company has liked my Burj Khalifa picture. Some stranger has commented on some earlier picture in a language that I don’t understand. And so the long day wears on.

Life in the times of social media, strange indeed.

Oh, the perils of speaking in a polished/clipped/Oxford whatever accent in India! Shashi Tharoor apparently told someone at the Jaipur airport yesterday that he was waiting for his sister. The recipient of this piece of information (or perhaps someone who overheard it) panicked and reported to the security officials that a certain suave gentleman with a chequered past was waiting for his pistol!

All is well now but how I’d have loved to be witness to the subsequent conversation between a haughty Tharoor and the wary yet conscious airport security people. I mean to say, must have been quite a farrago of sorts, what?

I was sitting in the living room. Outwardly, I was in a zen-like state. From within me, I was, of course, quietly changing the universe but my mom couldn’t see that. “What are you doing, just sitting?”, she snapped, and her fingers snapped along with her. “Up! Up! We’re having guests. I want this room cleaned in half an hour. You have turned it into a junkyard. Move! Now.”

She disappeared into the bathroom. I blinked a couple of times, stood up groggily and looked around. There were books, papers, medicines, wires, phones, chargers, bills, glasses, covers, boxes, a Mac, some packets of grocery items, shoes, socks, a T-shirt, some clothes, a clothes peg, a sewing kit stolen from a hotel, three coffee mugs, a plate, two bowls, two wallets, a handbag, a belt, two wrappers, two small pieces of turmeric, a packet of vibhuti and some tissue paper.

I looked around dazedly. Just then, my sister staggered into the room. “Amma woke me up”, she mumbled, as if she owed me an explanation for being up before noon. She seemed to be expecting sympathy. seizing the opportunity I said, “What are you doing, sleeping in? Get cracking! We’re having guests. Clean up this room!”

She looked around, slowly taking everything in. “How?”, she asked.

“Just pick up everything except the furniture’, I advised, “and dump it in that white cupboard in your room. There is some space there.”

This piece was written in collaboration with Morpheus.