I've always heard people use the phrase, 'when time seems to have stopped'. But there wasn't any phase of my life in particular, where I could realize that, until this friday.
Nowadays my life isn't very interesting. I go to office, open facebook, and rush back home when the clock strikes five...only to open facebook again. It's not that I'm obsessed with it, but it keeps me in touch with someone or the other. The most tangible form of communication, in this intangible life.
It's like sitting in a theater all day, you know. You watch the same movie over and over again, all the while hoping someone comes and sits by your side, so that you could finally talk to someone.
Anyway, when I got to my seat on thursday morning, I noticed something odd. A lot of employees seemed to be wearing T-shirts, including the scanning guy who was wearing a quoted one. This made me check the calendar in my Galaxy 3, and sure enough, it was friday. The informal casuals day in most offices, being the last working day of the week.
I simply couldn't believe it.
When you get up in the morning, you always subconsciously calculate the days left to the weekend, and apparently I was one day behind. And usually it's the opposite case with people. I can imagine a cartoon of 'time' pointing and laughing at me in a race, 'Wow, someone actually lost to me!
I expected my happy neurons to cry out 'Yaay !!!', the same way kids shout when the school bell rings. But there was no such jolt, as I also realised there was actually nothing to look forward to this weekend.
Right then, I came across this news about the supermoon. I've always been fascinated by the night sky, and observing the moon used to be a great pastime.
So today evening (Saturday, i.e.), I planned to go out to grab a bite and finish just in time to watch the supermoon. Darkness had fallen outside the cafe, while I was munching on my Mexican sandwich, and sipping a very delectable strawberry frappe, watching Brett Lee bowl fiercely to Pakistan. It was the first thing I saw, the moment I stepped outside.
The supermoon was statistically supposed to appear 14% bigger. I couldn't tell the difference from the usual full moon. Maybe it's freckles were looking more prominent. Kind of like looking celebrities closely, only that this was celestial, and not a celebrity.
As I was walking back to my rented apartment, the familiar strings of 'Nothing else matters' by Metallica, had started playing in my earphones. Music like that starts showing in your walk, and I galloped back home, noticing the other pedestrians, enjoying their own chores, oblivious to the closeness of the moon.
I couldn't wait to look at the all the jealous stars, who were even more jealous of the moon tonight. Just as I reached the stairs to the terrace, the earphones were still plugged in, and the solo was about to begin in three or four seconds. Fifteen steps lay in front of me. Could I do it?
I did. The first note of the solo coincided with my last step on the stairs. Words cannot describe how great I just felt. Moments like that make me blog about the moment.
"So close no matter how far. Couldn't be much more from the heart. Forever trusting who we are. And nothing else matters..."
As the solo subsided, onto the gentle ending lines, I felt immense despair and solitude. I long for, and wait for the time, when I won't be alone in the enchantment of the night sky.
Nowadays my life isn't very interesting. I go to office, open facebook, and rush back home when the clock strikes five...only to open facebook again. It's not that I'm obsessed with it, but it keeps me in touch with someone or the other. The most tangible form of communication, in this intangible life.It's like sitting in a theater all day, you know. You watch the same movie over and over again, all the while hoping someone comes and sits by your side, so that you could finally talk to someone.
Anyway, when I got to my seat on thursday morning, I noticed something odd. A lot of employees seemed to be wearing T-shirts, including the scanning guy who was wearing a quoted one. This made me check the calendar in my Galaxy 3, and sure enough, it was friday. The informal casuals day in most offices, being the last working day of the week.
I simply couldn't believe it.
When you get up in the morning, you always subconsciously calculate the days left to the weekend, and apparently I was one day behind. And usually it's the opposite case with people. I can imagine a cartoon of 'time' pointing and laughing at me in a race, 'Wow, someone actually lost to me!
I expected my happy neurons to cry out 'Yaay !!!', the same way kids shout when the school bell rings. But there was no such jolt, as I also realised there was actually nothing to look forward to this weekend.
Right then, I came across this news about the supermoon. I've always been fascinated by the night sky, and observing the moon used to be a great pastime.
So today evening (Saturday, i.e.), I planned to go out to grab a bite and finish just in time to watch the supermoon. Darkness had fallen outside the cafe, while I was munching on my Mexican sandwich, and sipping a very delectable strawberry frappe, watching Brett Lee bowl fiercely to Pakistan. It was the first thing I saw, the moment I stepped outside.
The supermoon was statistically supposed to appear 14% bigger. I couldn't tell the difference from the usual full moon. Maybe it's freckles were looking more prominent. Kind of like looking celebrities closely, only that this was celestial, and not a celebrity.
As I was walking back to my rented apartment, the familiar strings of 'Nothing else matters' by Metallica, had started playing in my earphones. Music like that starts showing in your walk, and I galloped back home, noticing the other pedestrians, enjoying their own chores, oblivious to the closeness of the moon.
I couldn't wait to look at the all the jealous stars, who were even more jealous of the moon tonight. Just as I reached the stairs to the terrace, the earphones were still plugged in, and the solo was about to begin in three or four seconds. Fifteen steps lay in front of me. Could I do it?
I did. The first note of the solo coincided with my last step on the stairs. Words cannot describe how great I just felt. Moments like that make me blog about the moment.
"So close no matter how far. Couldn't be much more from the heart. Forever trusting who we are. And nothing else matters..."
As the solo subsided, onto the gentle ending lines, I felt immense despair and solitude. I long for, and wait for the time, when I won't be alone in the enchantment of the night sky.
