Still Thinking

I will talk of one of the most dreaded days of the year in my life. No its not my final exams. That’s good, for the simple reason that they are held at 11am and not 6.40am.

I’ll talk bout the days I have to drop my dad to his bus stop. I usually hear the news at night. My very cool and calm answer to my dads request is “ya sure, what time?” (Though the details of such days are etched in my memory I still ask). Inside my head I hear a million sirens saying “oh no! Again oh god please not again”. That night I pray to god that this be one of dads jokes that we don’t understand and that I don’t have to get up early in the morning. Those of you who think 6.40 am is not very early please understand that I'm strictly referring to my brethren who sleep late and their usual morning is 10.00am. So I get up at 6.30, go to the loo, change from my pajamas to a jeans, wear a warm shirt and over that a high neck sweater (its winter), all the while thinking that he might change plans and tell me that there’s no need to come. That day has never arrived when he has said that but what’s the harm in hoping. My dad usually rides the bike on our way to the bus stop. I see the phenomenon of a four stroke, geared biker handling my 2 stroke ungeared scooty and if I were not as sleepy and cold I would have laughed all the way and back. On the way to the bus stop I get a feel of the cold that I will be facing while riding back home. My dad does not try to make conversation like he does every time. This time while getting down to the parking I told him that I'm “always” too sleepy to make conversation. The uneventful ride to the bus stop ends and he asks me if I’ll give him company while he waits for his bus. I say a no that’s neither polite nor impolite “inside I'm thinking well dude I may have been cool and calm bout the whole thing last night but let’s not get carried away”. On my way back I wonder whether its me keeping my body conscious enough to drive or my body keeping me conscious. The answer is neither, it’s the morning cold, which by now, on a chilly road is becoming a little too much to handle and I’m wondering if I’ll be frozen to my seat by the time I get home. I see people on their morning walks with old uncles (read retired army officers) wearing just shorts and a t-shirt and a half sweater. As I go further I see more people with less winterly clothing. In contrast I could be easily mistaken for a stuffed turkey on a scooty with my attire. I see school children waiting for their school buses and remember my school days and don’t understand why everyone has to go to school so early. I'm almost home and I think maybe I'm feeling the cold more because I have a slight fever and dream of not going to college because of this. I reach the parking and then the final assault, my neighbour is wearing just one shirt, god!!! am I the only one who seems to exaggerate the Pune winter by being dressed as I am. I get home and realize with a sigh that I don’t have a fever. The living room is warm, the loo is warmer. I spend a good 10 minutes there and then go to bed consoling myself that this day won’t come again very soon.

For those of you who think that I shouldn’t be cribbing keeping in mind the number of times my dad had dropped me to school in really bad weather; on such cold mornings, nostalgia and gratitude don’t help.