So I haven’t been in the best of moods over the past couple of days, and current events seem to have nothing to do with it. I went to bed early last night, my mood couldn’t seem to take going any lower, hoping things would be better in the morning.
I woke early, and it being a Saturday morning pleasantly surprised me; It’s close to four years now since I last saw what an early Saturday morning looks like. I didn’t seem to be feeling much better. I thought I’d call mum… but then I’ve had enough to know what she would say – the usual positive thoughts, attitude… rounded off by an injunction to performing Kriya and Pranayama… Mum and Sri Sri Ravishankar are the only two people I know who fervently believe the perfect cure for drooping shoulders and faltering smile and most other problems is right breathing.
Well, I had nothing to lose, did I? And maybe it was just lack of the right amounts of sun, water shortage, bad food and wrong breathing that was behind my mood… no wonder most religions of the world venerate these things…
So I opened the windows to let in the sun, and in the morning light, I see a nice little Indian kingfisher perched on the roof of the mess.
Now I really like kingfishers. Their awkward beak and dispropotionate head are offset by their very colourful plumage. Many an afternoon I’ve spent watching kingfishers dive in and out of the drain (urban jungle), fishing, wishing I’d had a camera. And now it seemed perfect, within close-enough range, the light was just right, and the blue just stood out from the off-white building.
So I get my camera, switched it to high-res, high-colour, and pointed and zoomed. The damn bird chose that precise moment to fly up to the top of the water tank. Fine, not good enough.. now I could only see the white underside of the bird.. but okay nevertheless. I took a couple of shots, which didn’t turn out so good.
And THEN my camera runs out of charge. I put in the battery for charging and keep watching the bird for ten minutes. It flies down low, does an astonishing series of acrobatics, and swoops to a more camera-friendly perch. I’m amazed.
I replace the battery, set date and time, switch to hi-res, hi-color, zoom in perfectly. And the damn bird chooses to fly away!
Just the sort of tragicomic crap that happens to me. Just the sort of stuff that turns me cynical and phlegmatic when I’m already in the up-against-the-rest-of-the-world rebel-without-a-cause mode.
As always, Ella Fitzgerald has the perfect lyrics for this: I thought for once it couldn’t go wrong / Not for long / I can see the way this ends.
I have no doubt if I was a Hindi novelist in the era of Munshi Premchand or of Dharmvir Bharti, I would have used this sort of story in my autobiography as a metaphor for the course things generally take. *Sigh*.. my mood isn’t any better, is it?