What is "jumping the roof" ???

Today (13 Oct 2006) happened to be one of those days that comes and hits back at you every single time you think that you ordeal is finally over. Crazy things happen and one gets screwed over again and again till it becomes an inherent part of your system. Perhaps one might begin to love the struggle, a weird sense of Stockholm syndrome. The day started on an extremely bad taste partly because of an uneasy sleep of 3 hours. And one did not require the nose of a blood hound to smell trouble. The events that unfolded the previous day had put in a rotten state and realizing that I am not going to get much sleep made my little sleeping hours meaningless. Now it so happens that I am uncomfortable driving a bike. Blame it on my university which prohibited its usage or anything but that's the truth. And I for one have no qualms accepting it. But then a certain M convinced me that he is great at it. I had to wake up early to go and book a tatkal ticket. I was supposed to go with a B who would accompany me on my journey. Now a simple plan was to borrow a vehicle and reach B early in the morning. I was delighted to get an assurance from a certain O that he would lend me his vehicle. I for one was under the impression that he had a gearless vehicle. But then again simpletons like me don’t have a single vehicle while people apparently have a whole army. I went to O's place in the night along with M. The prospect of getting a vehicle even if for just a single day had transformed M and a certain A (both being my flat-mates) to heaven. They started planning big things. Castles in the air, unfortunately A's favorite song was ringing its death knell in my head. Did I really need any more signals? The whole universe was trying its level best in trying to dissuade us from plodding the path to collateral damage. But then I dearly needed the tatkal ticket. So I was escorted by M to O's place. Even the lecherous dogs were trying hard to convince me to retrace back. All along the way I got to know from M that there are lots of CCD's in Bangalore. He wanted to hang out at one of them irrespective of the fact that the exact address to any one was not a requirement. On quashing that plan he came up with a plan to buy a shirt in Big Bazaar. Now that's genius, to buy a shirt at 10 pm plus in the night. Can you look beyond utter stupidity for once and marvel at M's desperation at getting his hands on a vehicle. It was perhaps as if M has been locked all his life in a dudgeon and this vehicle was going to be his chance to freedom. He was certainly not letting to have a minor hiccups like closed shop or unknown location come in the way of his long cherished hitherto unknown freedom. Fortunately O stays nearby and I was saved of any more of M's majestic nocturnal plans.

Coming back to O, I was prepared to get a gearless baby. But then after the pleasantries I was presented with a geared one. Apparently only buffoons cannot drive a geared vehicle is the popular notion I guess. But some admit to the same, others try to fake it. Common its not an orgasm but that isn’t going to stop people from doing the things they do. Sensing my apparent discomfort as I dreadfully watched the bike, O started becoming apprehensive. I suddenly realized that I had been blessed with hindsight as I may be a novice in driving but my buddy M was a master. He's driven all sorts of vehicles at home and has often been on long drives too. Believe me I had not seen him drive once but then I had no inkling of disbelieving M. I heaved a sigh of relief and turned to M. I explained to O that M will drive to our humble abode and then in the morning B will drive around to the ticket-counter. I had no reason to believe that the sudden drop in M's adrenaline was alarming. He was suddenly stone cold. I believed it was the chilly night. I told him to take charge of the situation and drive us home. He bravely took out the vehicle and I sat on the pillion without a care in the world. I had absolutely no idea it was the return of the all too familiar "jumping the balcony" syndrome. I would have explained the syndrome except that there is nothing left to explain. It’s as plain as it is literal. It is characterized by pushing the body to its limits physically as opposed to mentally. It involves doing things that will almost definitely be characterized as silly by any sane person. But then people do it in Guinness book and Ripley's and on a bunch of shows. Surely all people are not insane. So M has a tendency of accepting crazy challenges like jumping from the balcony or driving a vehicle pretending you know how to drive. Faking the crap syndrome would be a good term to define such outrageous behavior. So throwing my little concerns like spending the next hour looking for a CCD or staring at a closed big bazaar and trying to purchase a shirt at midnight, I rested my case with O. My credibility was now hanging fully on M's able shoulders. I was prepared to be pained for the night as long as I had a driver till our abode. I was hopelessly confident in M's driving skills. But it seems we did not have much driving to do. My credibility would have survived had we had a normal accident. Speeding youngsters plunge into a gutter would have been a really normal line in an obscure page of a little known daily the next morning featuring my and M's name. (Its been long since my name was there with no chances of it being there now :( ). But know I had to lose my credibility down to smallest iota. The thing that followed was shamefully funny. Funny, for the audience that other than O and his flat-mate consisted only of dogs. As soon as I prepared myself to brace the onslaught of soothing night breeze up my face I heard an unexpected noise. Within no time my bum was kissing the ground and my leg was getting crushed under the vehicle. I was unable to comprehend anything other than this as it was sudden and painful for me. Apparently the overzealous M had made a horse of the bike. As in the bike raised it front wheels as a proud horse raises its legs but then it kept raising and rising till we fell backwards. So much so for the joy ride that M had envisioned and I had trashed. And the bike came crashing down on the front foot rest and my poor left leg. Therein time stopped for what seemed an eternity. M was half as stunned as O. Both we up and standing but were too stunned by what had happened. Poor me, I lay there wrenching in pain and crying out to relieve my foot from the grip of the bike's weight. All of it fell in deaf ears. Within a few seconds both O and M came to their senses. To my utter disbelief and surprise they turned towards the bike to examine the damage. O out of concern M out of perhaps guilt. And no one was willing to move the bike and free my crushed foot. Finally I decided to help myself but it seems you cannot lift a bike when you foot is trapped below the same. A few more moans and shrieks along with the dogs that by now had raised their din to a few hundred decibels. Amid all the chaos I lay writhing in pain trying to free my selves from the weight of a fallen bike and its still fallen riders. Finally when toe could not be crushed further and I had again become victim of the Stockholm syndrome thereby enjoying the pain did O and M relieve me of my misery? That physical fall was just a bike high but the mental one was fathomless. There was an uneasy quiet when everyone was up on their feet, with me still tending my feet. That ensured that I was spared of looking O in the eye. Once O grasped the gravity of the situation he was quick to ascertain the damage. He pointed to the front head-rest which taking a clue from the bike was pointing towards the sky. Like a man-eater it wanted nothing less than being in the lines of Discovery but was as unfortunate as Columbia. Fortunately for the rear foot rest my foot came in as a buffer. That should have pleased O into a familiar giggle that he and his flat-mate are all to (in) famous for. But funny as the situation was, still no one was laughing. O immediately trashed any further test-rides and promptly rode his bike into the safety of his flat. That was the sad end of M's adventure night. It was a realllllly uneasy time. And we just wanted to get our asses off the block as soon as possible. We ran away from the place with dogs all the more energized to prey on us. But perhaps they realized that we weren't the ones to be messed with courtesy the spectacle which they had witnessed. Perhaps stray dogs can be tamed but then they have to be dogs to be tamed.

I trudged back home and spurt into bursts of laughter all the way. Whenever I recollected the memory I could not control my selves. M was a little more demure as was to be expected. Finally my last room mate on our

Lastly why am I writing this stuff? Why is it that after giving up yet another thing I am making a comeback of sorts? How much free time can an individual have even when he has a full-time job? What is it that can fill the seemingly humongous void? I lack two things inspiration and purpose. Till I have both I will continue to have ample time to do such fallacies..........Goodness me more than two decades and yet no sight of the bulls-eye. But I am getting bored of the void and running out of excuses like browsing, business et al just to kill time. It’s really time I find something or at least pretend having found something. At the end of the day things rub off and just as I continue faking things I still believe I will find my purpose. I have lost my patience but am close to losing so much more.......