Karma bites the toe

It all began with Krypto, the laptop konking off six months back. The lazy fuck I am, continued to ignore the multiple warnings flashed upon diligently by Krypto's core processor, the same way I have been ignoring my painful molar, faulty car shockers and the perennially unkempt closet.

The Dionysian lifestyle I have slipped into is beginning to affect me in adverse ways. But before I dwell on that, let me tell you how out of place I felt entering the room I have been living in for 20 years of my existence in delhi, yesterday. Krypto was gone. Poor, over-exploited Krypto was dead because of my tardy negligence and had to be sent to the repair center. My world had crumbled. I don't even remember the last time I was alone in my room without him. It feels like an eternity ago, when humankind bore the familial traits of the neanderthal before turning into cyborgs. When a good night's sleep was not depended on mindless TV shows and mindless trolling on the internet. when laptops bore no influence on your socializing whatsoever and the world was generally a better to place to live.

With Krypto gone, it was pointless to stay home and stay awake in remorse. I had the choice of heading out to the hipster pub in South Delhi or go for a dinner with people I knew nothing about except they were all way past their twenties. I was kicked about a night of retarded dancing in the shitty pub until V talked me into the dinner plan. If you know me well, it's reasonable for you to loathe my decision-making after all the socially awkward moments I've put you in, on occasions, more than one. Well, the tables turned this time. It was awkward for me to contribute to the discussion about why the 30 -something on the table were still single and suffering from some kind of a boob complex. It was hard to miss the correlation between the two, but I decided to be nice and spend most part of the evening chugging giant frothy glasses of delicious German beer, in one corner. 

I remember being referred to 'young gun', in one of their conversations which acted as a positive reinforcement to my alcohol indulgence. I was determined to show them that being young meant being the first one to order another round and be the last one to leave the table. Being young also meant being gifted with the amazing need to embarrass yourself on the dance floor along with a bunch of anglo-american hipsters. I don't know if it was the alcohol or my convincing skills which brought them to the shitty pub. On hindsight, it was a big mistake. they were far more entertaining in their inebriated boob-talk. Understandably, the yuppie music did not appeal to their taste. however, their lousy attempt to concentrate on the dancing was worth admiration.

I was glad that everybody managed to have a good time in their own capacities, during the night. The next task was to walk out of the pub straight. K and N were chirpy as high-school girls walking on the other side of the road. M, the oldest one in the group had gone to fetch her car, before parting ways with us. V, the only guy with us was sent to scour a cab for K and N. I was walking alone in my drunken stupor, patting my back in my head for being far far away from my Krypto-less room. 

I saw M flash her headlights on me. she had her rolled down her window to say goodbye to the people on the other side of the road. I turned right to wave a goodbye to M. Her car had picked up motion. The next thing I knew, I was under her car. My left foot was under her left tyre. I exulted a despicable call for help. M came running and helped me lift myself to the car. I don't remember, how i got into the car. It was a miracle. I dropped my atheism right there. the next couple of minutes passed in a trance.  I could hear faint voices from the back of the car but I couldn't comprehend a word. my mind had just covered the distance between Hell and Earth. I was breathing. That's all that mattered. I slouched on the car-seat. If it wasn't for the alcohol I would have been bawling in pain right now. Instead, I was surprisingly stoic. As stoic as a convict, ready to face his sentence. Looking straight out of the window, effortlessly ignoring the injured toe and M's apologies.  

Today morning, however, was anything but stoic. The effect of last night's painkiller had worn off and I was limping like a dog. Helpless, unhappy, miserable. I wanted to punch everyone I saw last night. Funny boobs, big boobs, three boobs, no-boobs, hipster boobs, all at once. I popped a painkiller and mustered the strength to go to the hospital. Every part of me cringed. The emergency Sunday doctor showed no mercy. he was only interested in knowing if I had noted the culprit's car number and reported it to the cops. After an hour and a half of inhaling nauseating hospital smell, i was sent off with a prescription for my broken toe. 

2 weeks rest, it says.

 Here I am back to being alone in my neanderthal room, mocked by universe for being a slack(?) or a brazen youngadult(?). Who knows.