Blue bottles

I have always thought religion in general and God in particular were disposable.

Something that came into my life lightly. On a few days of the year.

Something that my parents forced me to believe in.

I never understood why people would starve to appease someone who didn’t even bother to make His presence felt.

But now, when one of the most magical people in my life who I love more than love itself is in pain, I understand.

I’m hoping religion will save her.

And my disposable faith will somehow hover around her, protecting her.

I’ll starve. Believe. Walk a thousand miles barefoot. Pray. Anything.

Everything.

But please.

So I stole once in my life.

If I were a boy, I wouldn’t steal books
a. from an impoverished library.
b. meant for the opposite sex.
c. having something to do with spying and adventures.

OK. Maybe I would.

The first time I ever stole in my life was a pen-pencil. I was six. Eminently stupid. And slightly greedy.

It was in a cousin’s house where a German-made( ‘Ooh!’, said Arjun) pencil lying around caught my attention. It was a turquoise blue pencil.

I immediately fell in love with that pencil.

The obvious thing would have been to ask a parent to buy it for me. But, helas! Such a noble thought didn’t occur to me.

Instead a nefarious one did.

I had to steal it.

So when no one was looking, I crept (my sense of drama rather well developed) and picked the pencil up. And stuffed it down my pants.

Actually… never mind.

And then I spent the most uncomfortable three hours of my life.

The End.

P.S. I am not Arjun to make it interesting. This is my story. As demanded. And I state bare facts.

Also, a parent discovered the pencil and urged (threatened to take away my books) to tell the truth. And then he threw the pencil away.

I felt bad.

And now I am in therapy. Paying for my delinquent childhood.

I am bored out of my skull.

I have nothing to do.

A pathetic state of affairs considering my ‘haute’ status as the Resident Hostel ‘Stud’ during the month of February.

In the month of Feb, I was travelling all over the country. Delhi-Pune-Bangalore-Pune-Bombay-Pune-Goa-Pune.

And in the month of March, I sit watching the heat shimmer off the ground.

I’m so bored that I’m contemplating cracking open the ‘Torts’ textbook. Mind you, not the Jhab but the R&D textbook.

*sighs*

What must I do to relieve myself from this forlorn state of affairs?

BORED.

Pleh! esaelP!

On a *whatever* note, I discovered that one of my friends is dyslexic.

Yeah. That’s it. I have no observations on the above.

Another random piece of information is that while I stood waiting to draw cash from the ATM, I noticed that the phone banking ads at almost all ATMs had a Motorola phone used in their ads. Even that AB’s ad with the Chinky restaurant and the ‘Big B’ cake had him using a Moto phone. Is this some kind of tie-up or something? Please explain the genesis of this deal to me. I am very much interested.

P.S. Only one spelling mistake before spell check.

Interesting. Interesting. Interesting. Interesting. Interesting.