Hell – III

To say that I slept fitfully would be a huge lie. I slept very well, quite literally as snug as a bug in a rug. I didn’t want to think about what tomorrow would bring, it’s the present that mattered.

The next few days were a blur, the mundane realities of banking - standing in queues, watching minutes turn into hours, finding infinite reserves of patience to deal with the sea of inertia and inactivity that plagues Government institutions like an incurable disease, waiting for what seemed to be an eternity for some kind of action, and then suddenly being confronted with a flurry of activity that ultimately ends in a huge noise of faded rubber stamps meeting paper.

Another few hours of apathy induced suffering and I had a scrap of paper in my hand that entitled me to put myself through another six months of alternating torture and stupor inducing monologues that would be the last word in monotony.

I had too much time to think but I chose to sink into a state of perpetual ennui briefly alleviated by paperbacks and my trusty old walkman. Belief in the power of procrastination was strong and my energy was at an all time low.

Perversely my body decided that it was just the time to throw a tantrum, years of junk food and comfort eating came back to haunt me and I ended up with a horrible infection that rendered me speechless and sniffling like a caricature dog. The desire to eat dwindled and soon I was losing weight without even trying. By the time I was well again I had dropped enough poundage to elicit favorable comments from peers and coworkers alike.

So much water under the bridge yet the calendar showed that barely a fortnight had passed. I looked at myself in the mirror and asked, “Who are you?” No answer. The new person that stared back was just as upset as I was and equally confused.