The Invisible Man

My alarm clock beeps at 7 AM on a fine Sunday morning.

A touch of expert snooze puts it back to sleep.

It comes alive at 7.15 again.

Another touch of expert snooze…

When it beeps at 7.30, I can’t take it anymore and decide to reset the alarm at 8.30, which I calculate, gives me another good hour for sleep.

Silence, only broken by random snores and conceited farts, ensues for the rest of the morning until the blasted alarm clock wakes me up at 8.30 again, and I feel too lazy to snooze or reset it.

In bed, I challenge my limited reasons for why we are designed to sleep and then wake up. And wake up, and then sleep. Useless, I feel. I could sleep on forever, I tell myself. Half asleep.

Before I get to the tail of the matter, it is already 8.55 AM.

I challenge myself a little longer.

It’s totally useless; I have to get up, anyway. But I let myself trail a little longer; sleep looks more convincing. Even promising, to me.

I grunt under my breath “Only if I hadn’t borrowed that car…” and get out of the bed.

The cold, at once, attack my unprotected areas.

“Winter” Another muffled grunt.

I am on the verge of another challenge with myself on seasons, but the underwear clenched between the cheeks of my bottom saves the morning of it.

I release the under-garments from the bottom arrest and proceed to the bathroom, which in a way gives me a sense of unspoken comfort.

Once inside the bathroom, I have to rub my eyes that would have produced fire in the prehistoric age to see myself clearly in the mirror.

It strikes me then that I have to relieve my bladders of its burden.

Why then, I start again; I wasted my time rubbing my eyes! I could have peed perfectly well without looking in the mirror, or with my blurry eyes for that matter!

I position myself beside the western relief pot and start peeing, all the same.

A quick shudder over the spines and the business is over.

“Mm... “ I almost say it loud, feeling the total relief in it!

I clutch my toothbrush, which I can easily locate with my clear eyes, and nearly curse myself for putting up the challenge, a few moments previously, to myself. Then all over again, I almost have that rare nature to thank myself for having my eyes rubbed first, but I control it.

As I apply toothpaste on the brush, I close the bathroom door, and everything happens behind the bolted door.

I come out of the bathroom and look myself in the dressing mirror.

Two unpleasing hairs are peeping out of my nose at me. Without any investigation and consideration, I pull them out.

I look better in the mirror now.

I apply everything that has to be applied to a man’s face and hair after that.

Another look in the mirror and I cannot recognize myself.

Promise!

I make some faces before the mirror to confirm it’s me that is in the mirror.

At long length, I smile, and the dimples on my cheeks give away (my identity).

Immediately, I start putting on my clothes. By the time I am done, it is almost 9.30.

I grab the car and the bungalow keys. On my way out, I carry my backpack.

I lock the door behind me and head towards the car. It is an old Maruti 800.

I walk towards the car dickey. “Suzuki” in blue is written in bold letters. I am guessing, the owner wrote it to remind him that the car is a Suzuki make.

I open the dickey and trash my backpack.

Now, I am behind the wheels. I say a little prayer before I start the engine.

A twist at the key, and a promising sound from the engine, but it dies immediately.

I say another prayer, and a longer one this time. I make an attempt at the key. The engine totally fails on me.

I come out and curse. It is longer than the prayer.

I even kick at the tires!

Useless piece of machine, I shout!

I bring myself to form.

I am thinking I will jumpstart the car. To do that, I have to push the car a little more than 10 meters to take it to the part of the road, which is downhill.

I give a little push to the car and it moves.

Oh, I say, it is easy.

But I think again, like an educated engineer. It strikes me that there is no one inside the car to stop it once the car reaches downhill.

I look skyward. Almost believing god exists.

I wait a few moments more.

Common sense drives me to call the guard at duty.

I jump-start the car with his help, and I am on my way to Thimphu.

Once I reach Thimphu, the car owner is all set to go to Paro and reach his cousins to school. But, he wants me to drive the car.

He says, “I am driving the other car”. In short, the better one.

I say multiple prayers under my breath. All unheard, but very strong ones!

I drive that car whole Sunday and go to bed exhausted at night, more from praying than driving it.