Transfers are hectic, both for the one who is transferred and the one who is left behind. My latest roommate left the room today. He is transferred to a city, that is an emerging market, to “penetrate the possibilities of selling its products to the villagers”, in his language. Villagers are smart these days, I know he is going to have a tough time dealing with the ‘ifs’ all the time and naked butts every morning around the fields. He was not a great roommate to be with anyway, but he was better in comparison to many that I have had in the past. Most of the times he minded his own business and simply did let me mind mine. He gave me two nights in a week with only myself in the room, which is a kind of peaceful time I yearn for every night. I will have it tonight, total peace!
He left carrying, dragging or whatevering six bags of luggage. Reminds me of the “shed your excess baggage” theory. Mentally noted.
Now, there is a new problem. The landlord informed me a while ago that I have to shift to the adjacent room because there is only one guy living in that room and as I am left alone now after my roomie’s departure, there is no sense in using electricity in two room when we both can stay in one room. Makes sense, bosses and landlords always do.
My roommate, who left today, talked too much and the one with him I am going to share the room from tomorrow, he stammers. The strange thing is his stammering miraculously vanishes when he begins to sing! He cooks, makes a lot of noise while doing so, he has a television as well, he watches all the boring daily soaps and I am pretty sure I am going to have a hard time while trying to adjust with him. If it were summers, I would have gladly passed my time on the roof writing, but in this season, I don’t want to take risk of getting my laptop frozen or my eyelashes for that matter.
The truth is, every person you live with, leaves something of him behind when he leaves. There have been times when my roommate, the one who got transferred, irritated me to maximum degree and there have been times when he has proved to be a good companion. Like I wrote in another article, living is all about finding good in people and measuring the ratio of it in different people. He was a good person to live with. He was willing to adjust and he was careful not to offend other people. He knew how to manage. Not that I am going to light the aggarbattis he left behind, but I am not going to throw the packet either. It is not my task to take care of his leftovers. But, in a way, I am also his leftover, he left me. Don’t I sound gay suddenly?
I don’t want to shift to the next room. I want to live alone. I have wanted to live alone from a long time so that I can write peacefully, without any disturbance from anyone. I’d love to lock myself in a room, put on the music, put the phone on silent and go on hitting fingers on the keyboard until something starts making sense. Then I read what I wrote. If I like it, I blog it, if I don’t like it, I delete it. It is not possible that everything I write is going to be good all the time. If good stuff comes from within me, the bad stuff too will come from within me. I have to possess the sense to differentiate between the two and let the bad stuff fade away.
There is a book I am working on from the last six months or so. It needs to be written. There are stories to write and blog. There are thoughts to share with the world. There are ideas to think about so they can develop in time and I can present them to my readers. I can’t do all of it while living with someone who cooks everyday and watches television till midnight.
They say things get worse before they start getting better. I wish they are right, whoever they are.