Two worlds and a hint of resistance

04.06.2012 

Today morning, after I woke up from my sleep induced by a heavy beer dosage from the previous night, I felt remnants of a broken night. My body felt like a sack full of sand with a soul inside it. I dragged myself up from the bed laid on the floor of my friend’s apartment, and reached for my pair of jeans lying unshapely nearby. I managed to conduct my morning responsibilities and left for my place without informing my friend. I had utilized the common modes of public transport available in Gurgaon to help me reach my place. Realizing that my body needed more sleep for it to feel refreshed for office on a Monday morning, I snaked over to my bed and fell into a deep sleep, even though I feared that I might oversleep and thus be terribly late for office. 

However, despite my apprehensions, I was able to wake up at the time of the clock that I had desired. My body felt a little less of a sack full of sand after the short power nap. I took off my clothes that I was wearing and then donned a towel to prepare myself for shower. I was wearing a bright red-coloured t-shirt of size XL, a pair of blue levis jeans, and this pair of clothes were all that I had worn in the last 36 hours of staying awake. On Saturday night, I was out with the NAXP dudes at Karampura, recording a track with them. I had drank beer and whiskey that night. Then I moved myself to Patel Church, where students of Delhi University assemble at night and enjoy their favourite things, like talks, friends, grass, drinks and snacks. I was with friends who I was freestyling with for the whole night. Then I had moved to Buradi, that lies slightly at the outskirts of Delhi, but still considered within Delhi, to spend some time at Offbeat’s house. We rapped and discussed. Then I moved to Chhatarpur, Gurgaon to meet Pikolo, a rapper from Darjeeling. We drank beer and whisky and we freestyled the whole evening. 

All these non-stop events were running in my head. 36 hours of freestyling, rapping, music, friends, drinks. 36 hours of no sleep. 36 hours of a different world. 

I had finished my shower and was getting ready in the appropriate set of clothes for office on that Monday morning. I experienced an alienness to the John Players shirt that I was buttoning myself with. I looked down at myself completely decked in formals with black polished boots to boot. I bought a cigarette from a pan-waadi outside and started walking to my office, that lies within 10 minutes of walking distance from my place. 

On the way, I experienced something that made me feel as if I was walking towards a different world. I started seeing the hustle-bustle back again, something that I had completely forgotten about in the past 36 hours. Car drivers honked impatiently. The scores of people on the roads that were earnestly seeking to reach office on time. The multiple stores that had pulled their shutters up for the day. There were the traffic policemen who frantically switched hand-directions to maintain a smoother flow of traffic.  It felt like a different world and I experienced a hint of resistance in my body, for the first time ever, while walking towards that different world. In fact, I experienced that I, perhaps, could be living in two different worlds; two different realities. Perhaps I always was, but that morning, I felt a boundary existed between the two. I felt as if I changed countries. As if the sanctity of the oneness of my existence suddenly broke off into its constituent separate identities. It felt as if I had taken a flight this morning and transitioned between two worlds. Perhaps, I was experiencing jet lag? Perhaps I was waking up to a different world, a world that I had gone to sleep for, for the previous 36 hours that I was fully awake? 

It was remarkable. I am curious about that hint of resistance. 

Image from here.