I have been always banging on about various issues in my writings or whatever it is called these days, fairly constantly. I shall if I may cry out a bit now about my personal miseries.
When I shifted to Chennai, the picture I had was rather alluring. Constant visits to major centers of public activity, libraries filled with carefully chosen breed of cute girls and great food and so on the list goes. But I am not sure that is what I actually experienced after I came here happily.
The salient features that this place has offered are these. Traffic is horrid, every time the road you travel is clogged up by an auto-rickshaw driver. The climate is warm and wet or should I say muggy, you can get pretty much an idea of how it might feel when you accidentally jump into a huge deep-fry pan full of boiling salt water, every time you go out.
There is no use in going to a mall as you would imagine. Either you see girls who are already engaged to a bastard or they are dreadful or they think you are a thief.
You don’t get proper liquors because of the unique way the policies are made by the local government and are not allowed to smoke everywhere because it causes lung cancer to a lady standing fifteen meter away and global warming.
All things considered this coveted capital harbour city of Madras has made my life dreadful altogether.
So, plainly the kind of house I should live should be described by no other word than ‘tranquil’ so that I can redeem some of my lost cheers. But unfortunately it isn’t.
Because of the fact that I am financially not that well, so I can’t afford a room and I am sharing it with a chap. Well yes, he is a nice chap no doubt, but I had been living in a separate room even when I was staying with my parents and that was brilliant.
The real troubles are outside my room actually. My storey is also shared by a nitwit who calls himself a film director, only he is yet to do such a thing and a clamorous wizened old oaf and I am not joking. Then there are some Telugu narcissists who always find something to put in the washing machine right before the moment I need it and then sit in front of the TV watching a movie from their mother land where an ugly comedian will eat bananas and will laugh loudly by that humour.
When I go to the one below storey where my colleagues stay, it gets even worse. They would be watching an idiot running after a ball in the name of cricket which like I said it the most boring game in the world, if we ignore golf.
I can sum up what I need. A room where I live alone undisturbed even when I increase the music volume to theatre levels. I need a proper house too, not a place that is basically a hostel. And neighbours who are decent and well mannered with a pretty daughter.
Clearly what I have is far away from what I want. I want my old room back desperately.
There is only one thing in my life right now that is relaxing. Whenever I get time, I start painting the inner layers of my throat and lungs with a mixture of tar and nicotine.
As the problems increase day by day the nicotine coating also goes up naturally.
I am pretty sure that your mind cannot comprehend how bored and irritated I am. There is no word to describe my situation. I have heard there are eight circles of hell. This is the ninth one then.
I still haven’t caught lung cancer. But I honestly believe that it would be better.