The insomniac is sleepless, not just in Seattle, but just about everywhere. His pet peeve is that he has been singularly victimized in a world where everyone else seems to sleep just fine.
Presently, he is stuck in a bus sharing the two-seater with another gentleman who has dozed off at the drop of a hat to borrow a familiar phrase. The afternoon sun beats down mercilessly and shows little remorse.
"How can someone sleep in these sub-human conditions?", the Insomniac curses under his breath. He suddenly finds himself threateningly close to the leaning tower of Pisa which is about to plomp its head on his shoulder. Pisa's eyes are in deep stupor, its cheeks unshaven and pock marked, hair tousled and oily, moustache uneven and walrus like and mouth ajar with a steady drool! Another individual, another gender, a different age group- perhaps the Insomniac would have been more lenient and accommodative.
The Insomniac tries to sway out of harm's way, but Pisa's leaning cannot be controlled anymore. It follows the Insomniac with a vengeance encroaching almost the entire seat till the Insomniac cannot take it anymore. He uses his elbow and jabs Pisa in the ribs. Pisa stirs momentarily, eyes cloudy and confused, wipes the drool, swallows the remainder of the saliva, blinks, looks around and is back in deep slumber. The Insomniac regains his lost territory only to find Pisa repeating the leaning act.
The Insomniac is given to self pity. People seem to get sleep just about everywhere- benches of a park, curled in the main hall of a railway station with a stray dog for company and even in the hollow of a pipe by the roadside. How is it so effortless for the rest of the world, he wonders. His friends add to his woes- "I spent the weekend just sleeping, woke up briefly for lunch and then went back to sleep", they brag shamelessly. He has stopped discussing weekend accomplishments because it gives him a complex. But his friends know his weakness and like to pull his leg at the Cricket match. "If the next wicket falls before the draw of stumps, we know whom to send as the night-watchman", they joke. The Insomniac sheepishly grins.
It's not as if he has not scouted for help. He has tried every blessed technique with little success- number-therapy, music-therapy, mantra-therapy to name a few. No one asked a better boon from Lord Brahma than Kumbhakarna he soliloquizes. Kumbhakarna actually wanted Lordship over all the devas- Nir-devatwam. But Goddess Saraswati had other ideas. Residing on the asura's tongue, she deftly twisted it so that the "visarga" fell on the next syllable and Kumbhakarna blurted out Nidraa-vatwam- Good sleep! Lord Brahma couldn't care about the slip of tongue. "So be it"- uttered Brahma and vanished. Kumbhakarna was stuck with his boon and became the epitome of good sleep.
The Insomniac is farthest from good sleep. But he has set his goal high. His idol is Kumbhakarna!
- To be continued.
Presently, he is stuck in a bus sharing the two-seater with another gentleman who has dozed off at the drop of a hat to borrow a familiar phrase. The afternoon sun beats down mercilessly and shows little remorse.
"How can someone sleep in these sub-human conditions?", the Insomniac curses under his breath. He suddenly finds himself threateningly close to the leaning tower of Pisa which is about to plomp its head on his shoulder. Pisa's eyes are in deep stupor, its cheeks unshaven and pock marked, hair tousled and oily, moustache uneven and walrus like and mouth ajar with a steady drool! Another individual, another gender, a different age group- perhaps the Insomniac would have been more lenient and accommodative.
The Insomniac tries to sway out of harm's way, but Pisa's leaning cannot be controlled anymore. It follows the Insomniac with a vengeance encroaching almost the entire seat till the Insomniac cannot take it anymore. He uses his elbow and jabs Pisa in the ribs. Pisa stirs momentarily, eyes cloudy and confused, wipes the drool, swallows the remainder of the saliva, blinks, looks around and is back in deep slumber. The Insomniac regains his lost territory only to find Pisa repeating the leaning act.
The Insomniac is given to self pity. People seem to get sleep just about everywhere- benches of a park, curled in the main hall of a railway station with a stray dog for company and even in the hollow of a pipe by the roadside. How is it so effortless for the rest of the world, he wonders. His friends add to his woes- "I spent the weekend just sleeping, woke up briefly for lunch and then went back to sleep", they brag shamelessly. He has stopped discussing weekend accomplishments because it gives him a complex. But his friends know his weakness and like to pull his leg at the Cricket match. "If the next wicket falls before the draw of stumps, we know whom to send as the night-watchman", they joke. The Insomniac sheepishly grins.
It's not as if he has not scouted for help. He has tried every blessed technique with little success- number-therapy, music-therapy, mantra-therapy to name a few. No one asked a better boon from Lord Brahma than Kumbhakarna he soliloquizes. Kumbhakarna actually wanted Lordship over all the devas- Nir-devatwam. But Goddess Saraswati had other ideas. Residing on the asura's tongue, she deftly twisted it so that the "visarga" fell on the next syllable and Kumbhakarna blurted out Nidraa-vatwam- Good sleep! Lord Brahma couldn't care about the slip of tongue. "So be it"- uttered Brahma and vanished. Kumbhakarna was stuck with his boon and became the epitome of good sleep.
The Insomniac is farthest from good sleep. But he has set his goal high. His idol is Kumbhakarna!
- To be continued.
i can even sleep standing!! (honest) :) but i'd say that the insomniac is lucky as he has more time in a day as his body needs less sleep :)
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