Tyler Gave You My Book?

All the trouble with all the people resides in that one ugly little habit. Erased and/or corrected, and the world would be a happier place. Jealousy stock would fall, hatred would cease, and evil would not have a large enough ego-bloated head to rear out of the waters at anyone anymore. But will that happen? Oh no! Surely not. People will continue to err outrageously. And the world shall remain torn asunder, by grief and misery and idiocy. I need you to recognize it, the famous pitfall of humanity, and not make that damned mistake right now. Refrain from that ancient error, that pre-historic mistake of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. The consequences could be dire. Involving even the flowing of rivers of flood past mountains of corpses in the heat of war - "Not that I mind you raping our women and enslaving our children; its just that you're short. And bowlegged. Did you know that...er...umm...Genghis did you say your name was?".

There is much wisdom in playing it safe. Keeping our traps shut, till we know what to say.

So try. Try very hard. For I need you to be understanding and sympathetic. I need you to be big-hearted, kind and outwardly nice. I need you to be not giggly, fun-makey, and silly-jokey-cracky. I'm not very good at this sharing stuff, but I'm putting a step forward, arent I? Appreciation is deserved. I'm going to share. And as any sharer would say, its tough to do so when one is not entirely sure about the intellectual and emotional capacity of one's sharee. Thats you. We'll sit and discuss this through like mature people. Since I dont yet know how silly it is, or how outrageously positively alarming (its just a bit queer in my best opinion), you have to clear it all up.

The thing is, my exams are nearing. The nearing of all exams is, as you know, preceded by the commencement of ritual studying. You turn the room upside down, in frantic search of those elusive, hidden raw materials - the textbooks. You decide to brush the dust of the ages off the cover and arrange your table to look more respectable in demeanour and general respectability. The books are carefully placed, with the title in front (not upside down, mind you), one on top of the other, beginning with the largest below up to the smallest book. You dust the table and you buy a pen or two. You even buy two notebooks or three, lest an unforeseen need to write arise. And you sit on the chair, after having a nice bath and brushing your hair, and you get all comfortably settled in and everything, and you rap on the desk gently for 10 to 15 minutes with your shiny new pen. The first obstacle has shown itself. How does one start? It takes me a couple of days at the very least to get past this stage, as I traverse for lengthy periods of upto ten minutes (give or take five), through all the books in search for a starting point. Something to say "Start here, and you will surely succeed ucceed ceed eed ed d" [well, i'm reading god of small things these days. nice and all. but has an...influence... so to say] So what does that sort of thing lead to eventually? All this procrastination, and wet hair neatly combed and a creaky chair properly filled up with our selves? The inevitable result of this Flipflap, like a blue lusty pigeon's wings as it hops across the dusty once-green garden over to its grouchy and eagerly frolicking partner on the other side of the meandering RIVER with muddy footprint-worn banks and water strewn with clothes and leaky boats and memories of leaky boats (ykael staob) and hair falling and adolescence, is that we all get together and think of pickles and huts and coconuts and slaps and oh I'm so sorry I'm doing it again.

Where was I? The procrastination. Yes. The sight of all the books, and the suddenly hot afternoon weather, coupled with the touching-proximity of a comfortable bed and pillow that I steal furtive longing glances at. One thing leads to another, and I end up in bed with myself. Before I know it, I've slept 3 times in the day already, and I cant even stay up at night. Days pass, and no work is done. Exams creep closer and closer, and tensions mount, and anxiety leads to depression, and depression leads to a desire to forget it all and escape into an alternate universe, and alternate universe leads to sleep, and bang. I'm asleep. Its a vicious cycle. And thats not even the problem.

The problem is in when I'm asleep. Don't say that I'm jumping to conclusions about it, and I should perhaps take some more time to assess it before I cry for help, and even if I do it should be directed such that it falls within the acoustic boundary of someone with the actual capacity to do something about it, rather than passing blog-surfers with only half a mind to the text. Its really quite serious, yes. And its happened like three times already. Whats that word for it? Come on. It begins with 't' only. Not too big, and just about appropriate. Umm...aaah..yes. 'Thrice'. Its happened thrice already! On three consecutive afternoons.

So, here's the thing. I fall asleep, asking my room-mate to wake me in an hour or so, for today shall be a different day. Today, I will not fall, nor succumb. Today, I shall study! *glorious ovation and wild cheers from Coliseum spectators* And then I wake up, three hours later. I check the time, and direct quicksilver fury at my room-mate who seems as impervious to slumber as a good Indian boy trained to study forever, pausing to sleep only on national holidays.

Here's the thing. He tells me, that he did wake me up. And that I got up, and spoke to him awhile. And I switched off my backup alarm. And I washed my face. And then I went back to sleep. And I dont remember any of it!

??!

Thats the first time that happened. The next day, as I fell promptly asleep again, a mere 3.5 minutes after opening the first book, it happened again. Freakier this time! I was woken by someone from my class, who wanted a book. He woke me. I got up, and I spoke to him. I gave him the book from the neat pile on my desk. He bade my goodbye (presumably) and I him. He went, and I fell asleep again. I. Do not. Remember. A thing.

The third time was yesterday. Obviously, I tried not to fall asleep. And I held out, bravely, for half an hour. I was only going to sleep for an hour this time. And I woke up after 3 hours, with vivid memories of having fought off dragons and demons and the living dead, thanks to my 18 years at "Ninja Training School of Excellence In Ninja-ing", Opp. B. Lee Foundation for Multiple Parallel Cuts and Scratches, Forbidden City, I Cant Tell You, China. And apparently someone had come in for my Thermodynamics book, which I personally gave him with my waking hands and a smile on my waking face, before I dozed off again.

And you know what? No, why dont you try and guess this time? Come on, go for it. Its quite easy, really. Yes...yes...thats bloody correct! I dont bloody remember!

So my roommate thinks I'm crazy. His exact word being crazier, but thats not the point. And I just recently saw Fight Club. And The Butterfly Effect. And I've seen A Beautiful Mind. And I've read Harry Potter II. And I remember Me, Myself and Irene. And I've seen that other movie too, about people going cuckoo and doing things and not remembering afterwards, and looking confused and baffled with the turn of events around them, till they reach a point of either great clarity or insanity or both and the movie frigging ends and all is well. Or, disastrously over.

Can you help? Speak out, if you can. With tender words, and a loving caress over my knit forehead. I'm afraid of sleeping. I lie awake at night, for as long as I can. I jump at sharp noises, and check to see if I'm the one making them. I frantically scan through my most precious belongings every time I wake up, lest I gave them away. I spend my free messages in asking people if they saw me today, and if I gave them anything.

I'm all shook up.

So.

?

??

???