Well, with memories of food from woodlands fixiated in my mind, I was woken up with the sound of a caterwauling ambulance, at my hostel room that I had moved into yesterday. Yeah, It was my mom on the phone, and thats the ring tone that I use to remind myself of the one soul I owe my existence to. What better tone, than the shrieking siren of an ambulance to remind you of impending danger. For all those who haven't got this post yet , check out the first part
The hostel room, was a small cosy room, with an ominous number of 113, (well, if 13 was not enough, it had to be 113). And guess what, it did have a small yet, comfortably spacious balcony. And, with my mom swathing me in dreadful ennui for close to 19 mins and 27 seconds, going meticulously and mercilessly into the details starting from importance of brushing your teeth, to emergency measures that need to be taken, in case of a sudden outbreak of anthrax. I had had enough of maternal love and wisdom for one day, and that too at 5 in the morning. My mom is from 'Early to bed, Early to rise' school of thought, which honestly to me is something people had to make up because blogging wasn't invented yet. Still with my eyes laden with sleep, my eyelids so heavy, like jackfruits hanging from trees, bending the branches under their own weight. I dragged myself sloppily to the balcony, and opened it with hopes of inhaling the fresh morining air of this lovely city. Ah!, what a lovely day it was, the 20th of December, 2004.
This city has the uncanny knack of constantly and yet ingeniously throwing suprises at me. This one was a pleasent surprise though. The citizens of banglore somehow, are immune to the mindless preachings of people who share their views with my mother. Yes, and I am ecstatic, and overjoyed to know that this is a city of late risers. Even the sun rises late here, at approximately 10:30 to be precise (why the contradiction you ask, well, there is nothing wrong in being approximately precise, or precisely approximate, is there?).
I bravely stepped into the balcony, with bare foot, and skimpy clothing. I was quick to realise my fault, as icicles started forming all over my body, and I looked as if I had been attacked by sub-zero of the mortal kombat fame. I rushed into the warm confines of my room, and hid under a warm blanket. Hmm..., cool is good, but bone freezing cold is not that enjoyable. As I was revelling under the warmth of my blanket, I was rudely interrupted by racous knocking on the door. Breaking the silence of this fine december day, I was accosted by my friend bharat, with a blocked nose, unable to breathe, and rage all over his face. He was perfectly fair in being angry, for he had tried to wake me up from 4:30 in the morning, as he later told me. Well, convalescensing from a major attack of typhoid, the cold weather had taken a toll on him. poor Bharat!.
Enswathed, in mist, and freezing cold, with visibilty very very poor. (happens when you are wearing fogged glasses). Bharat and I ventured out, with the same adventerous spirit, that led one Mr.Chris Columbous to discover America (or was it simply the case of mistaken identity!). This time, the search was for a medical facility rather than an alternate route to India. Early morning walks, inspite of their rather tardy nature, seem to grow on you. We walked all the way from our cold hostel, to the sprawling multi-hectare IISC campus. Hindi, being the lingua-franca at the moment, and Bharat being rather proficient at it handled all our communication needs. The place took on a deserted and sombre look, as it was practically devoid of all life, barring the abundant flora, and the buzzing bees. We treaded every mile possible of this huge campus, and it was of no avail, even after we found the local medical facility. It was deserted, with emptiness permiating all around, like smoke from unburnt cigarettes in an ashtray. Yes, this is a city of late risers. Sigh ...!