It’s strange but I have become allergic to words - ‘spoken words’ to be precise. Every now and then, a chatter here and a mutter there makes me a little less sane. Even seemingly harmless lyrics of a song are enough to drive me up the wall. Instrumental music is surely the saviour.
I “shift a little more” in my already cluttered metro bench since we the people, believe in not wasting even the slightest speck of space - “Hey, I see that millimetre of space hiding beneath your dupatta. So, you better shift young lady!” Yes, suddenly you feel as if the sex ratio has actually improved. But don’t be mistaken. It’s just the new ladies coach. This coach is of course a boon but you can’t help missing that “ladies first” feeling. Afterall, ladies don’t offer their seats the way men do! (more on that special coach, later) Sitting pretty with my earphones (listening to instrumental music, what else did you think?) I get transported to a different world altogether. The whole scenery of people coming in and going out every 2 minutes or so becomes less disturbing, and the tiresome journey becomes like a walk in the heaven. “But hey, I’m too restless.” So, I fish out my novel, as I avoid bumping my elbow into the nearby lady. Soon after, I get dissolved in the world of written words.
I don’t hear anything. I don’t speak anything. And my 30-minute sojourn comes to a peaceful end.
