Thursday, June 30, 2011

Cats and dogs and Childhood



It couldn’t possibly rain cats and dogs even if it does rain at all.

The power couldn’t possibly snap and the noise (read: music) stop.

In that dreadful silence and pitch blackness sans a candle and a searchlight, I couldn’t possibly hear the strange noise of gushing water through tightly packed rocks, be transported to that day two decades back when diving voluntarily into the neck-deep river flood I near misadventurously died, find the bottom of the door for rocks, stand ankle-deep in filthy water and comb my short, long locks.

The landlady and the lord couldn’t possibly order me to stay put from giving them a hand or two.

It couldn’t possibly repeat itself when the rooms are nearly drained out.

I couldn’t possibly sit there shell-shocked and edit a file or two when the power connects again, pack all that is needed for morrow is another day except a handkerchief, give the spare key to the landlord to look after the flat invaded, be given a ride to a friend’s place, be sipping a beer or two watching Body of Lies instead of Lust, Caution, be envying D’s whisker, and return next eve to find an all-tidied-up-yet-fishy-smelling flat.

All this couldn’t possibly…!

All this did happen and excepting occasional bouts of exasperation I was gladder I have grown taller, inches wiser and less braver considerably since my childhood misadventures.


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