The Long Tragic Tale Of A Somni -- Oj's "she" Series #8

I was sitting on the sofa trying hard to decide if the freshly delivered newspapers were worth my effort to read or not. Reading a newspaper has always appeared to me to be an uphill task. And uphill tasks are the last ones I am inclined to perform first thing in the morning. Hence the hesitation.

I was deeply engrossed in thought you might say, surrounding a major decision making problem. To read or not to read? Inspired by you know who.

Outrageous fortune intervened, however, in a female form and a somewhat casual question. Casual, I mean, compared to the deeply philosophical one that I was already assailed by.

"Do you know that you are a somniloquist?" The tone was casual, which was odd of course. I mean "somniloquist" is not exactly a word that you can treat with casual disdain. I was startled, to put it mildly.

"What quist?" inquired my nonplussed self.

She: "Somnilo".

Me: "Som ... will you say that again?

She: "lino".

By this time I had forgotten the remaining parts of the mindboggling "s"-thing she had thrown at me. My mind began to boggle in no uncertain terms. I stared at her in dazed silence. She reciprocated, quite unfazed it appeared to me. Finally, I decided to give my vocal chords a feeble try.

Me: "You made me jump you know."

She: "Did I? You are turning into a seasoned jumper it would seem."

Me: "Me? A jumper? Who on earth could have suggested this to you?"

She: "You."

Me: "I? You mean I? As in first person singular number?"

She nodded in grim approval. And picked up a newspaper, reading it without hesitation. I had no choice left but to prod deeper into the mystery of a jumping me.

Me: "When pray did I divulge this absurd piece of information to you?"

She: "Last night, while somniloquising in gay abandon." Her eyes were still focussed on the newspaper.

Me: "Around when did I somni-whatever?" There was a trace of fury in my voice I suppose.

She looked up from the newspaper. A cruel smile emanated from her beautiful eyes.

She: "2 AM sharp."

Me: "At 2 AM sharp, ..." I couldn't finish the sentence. She helped me.

She: "At 2 AM sharp, you somniloquised that you had jumped at Cheeniya."

He: "Whaaaat?"

She: "You heard me. You also mumbled some rubbish about 515 vs. 1000 vs. 2000. Probably the length of your jump."

Me: "Chennai is 1678 km by road from Kolkata. And Cheeniya lives in Chennai. How could I possibly claim to have jumped at him?"

She: "Cheeniya declared Ravana to be his role model, didn't he? Perhaps you thought your own role model was Hanuman. Only, given your huge mass, you were not athletic enough to jump that far. You ended up with a mere 515."

Me: "Kilometres?"

She: "Millimetres. You were about to crash on the floor with your 515 mm jump. I saved you."

Me: "You did? I can't recall the incident."

She: "How could you? You kept on screaming Rajnikath all the time. You mistook me for Rajnikanth I think."

Me: "Who's Rajnikanth? The only Rajanikanta Sen I have heard of died long ago. The Bengali singer and lyricist."

She: "Rajnikanth is a Tamil cum Bollywood actor probably. I have no idea why you called me Rajnikanth."

I pondered over this identification problem for a while. Probably I heard about him from Cheeniya and began to somni-fy when the rest of the neighbourhood was dreaming of sweet nothings.

Me: "I think Cheeniya told me that this R chap was coming up with a new movie."

She: "I assumed as much. What I couldn't follow was why you thought Cheeniya was pulling his air."

Me: "I think he was sick of my apish antiques and tried to pull his hair. His hair didn't oblige. So he pulled his air."

She: "What's his air?"

Me: "What could have been his hair."

She watched me in angry silence for a long moment before pronouncing judgement.

She: "Cheeniya is a perfect gentleman at whom you jump, forcing the peace loving man to pull his air. You are disgusting."

I admit I found her description of me quite unacceptable. She was calling me a disgusting somnilo-q Hanuman who could long jump a maximum distance of 515 mm. My masculinity asserted itself. My first person, singular number was outraged.

Me: "You know what? If Hanuman is what I am in your view, I am leaving home in search of bananas. I am fed up with this miserable existence."

I got up and left the room in a huff. There being no banana trees in the vicinity, I locked myself up in my cramped study lamenting my fate somewhat in the nature of Greek tragic heroes. But it was finally the bard who won. Cruelty, thy name is woman, I concluded.

***

I must have fallen asleep. l guess I had slept too long the previous night. Sleeping being an action, it can be tiring, as all other actions. I needed the rest. When suddenly, I woke up with a start. I distinctly heard her voice calling out to me from the next room.

"What's it," I replied in drowsy irritation.

She: "Why aren't you answering your phone? It's ringing."

I looked around. There was no phone that I could locate, leave alone one that was ringing.

Me: "I don't have my phone with me here."

She: "It's ringing here, where I am sitting. Move your bottom in here and answer the phone."

I was at my wit's end. I had to walk back to where the somni had begun.

She: "You had better hurry. It could be an important call."

Reluctantly, I got up and entered the inquisition chamber once again. My phone was indeed ringing. I took it up and checked who was calling. To my total astonishment, I found that the caller was she herself. She held her phone to her ear and acted as though she was speaking to someone. I stared at her stupidly.

Me: "What are you up to? You could have just asked me to come over instead of calling my number."

She: "A phone call lends urgency to the situation."

Me: "What's the urgency, may I know?"

She: "You forgot to drink your morning tea. Did you find the bananas?"

Me: "What are you up to? Will you please explain?"

She: "Call up your buddy Cheeniya and ask him to explain. Especially the secret of his success with women."

__________

Confessions Of A Lazy Bum -- Oj's "she" Series #7

 

Thank you for reading Satchi. This is too long a post by IL standards. Don't think there will be takers.

oj-da

 

Dear Sairindhri,

This is too long a post I daresay. Nonetheless, you read it. I thank you for your effort. I am also happy that you enjoyed it.

oj

 

I am not upset Satchi. Don't misunderstand me. One cannot expect success everytime. I think I posted something around last weekend too. One must learn not to to complain at every available opportunity.

oj-da