The evening started off morosely. At least from my side. I felt the weight of time pressing in between the shoulder blades. The vague sense of limited time against the unlimited expanse of it: both aspects ebbing and flowing like tides in the narrow confines of one soul.
“Maybe I’ll cheer you up with a Tamil movie story.”, said the husband. Have I mentioned this aspect of the man before? I must’ve. The movies themselves do not interest me. The husband as narrator, however, takes it upon himself to remove this misconception of movies I have in my mind and with his usual charm and enthusiasm tries to work his magic. I am more entertained by the narrator’s enthusiasm than by the movies themselves.
“No please! I have limited time, and do not want to waste it on some stupid movie you watched late into the night!” I said. He gave me a “summary” anyway. 👀
“This is a summary? Please! You’ve gone on and on for 10 minutes – and you’re still meandering about with laying the ground!” I said exasperated for the n-th time. “This is why I don’t listen to your stories – you take double the time the movie itself takes!”
“Okay…okay. Almost done. Getting to the climax soon.” He said and went on for another 10 minutes.
I realized it was time for my meetings to start and made off.
“That’s twenty long minutes I’ll never get back!”, I swished mock-irritated, though his “summary” had me laughing.
Later that night, I crawled into bed ready to let my eyelids close and drift into the pleasant land of sleep when I saw the husband looking enthusiastic and energetic.
“What now?” I moaned. “If you’re going to tell me one more Tamil movie story, I cannot be responsible for my actions. “ I said.
He grinned, and I flopped back onto the pillow. “What the bloom? Tell me – maybe it’ll help me sleep. Two minutes.”, I said. “120, 119…”
“Okay – okay!”
After a few minutes, I moaned “Why do these movies go on-and-on?”
“Almost done. Almost done!” Said the husband and launched into a description of a fight between two knuckle heads who should’ve been home reading about the finer points of living instead.
15 minutes later, I flopped onto the pillow, and realized that the night-time story was far from relaxing. Adrenaline based fighting – humph!
So, I settled in to read instead. I picked up Flights of Fancy by Richard Dawkins and read about our dreams of flying.
I was reading about indigo buntings and their sense of direction. The little indigo buntings enthrall me. Tiny little creatures with a wing span of 7 inches flitting fast between their nest building and early morning swooping. Electric blue swift against their backgrounds. Their tiny wingspans made me think of the beautiful pelicans I had seen just a few days ago while out on a walk. Large birds with 7 ft wing spans – taking to the skies with a majestic power, and gliding through the waters with elegance and grace. Both states natural and both states equally alluring.
Both the pelicans and the buntings had my admiration, and I am often refreshed after spotting them somewhere on my walks.
“Shall I tell you about this book?” I said.
I knew I had him trapped. If I listened to two movie summaries in as many hours, he could listen to what one book said. He gave me a look that conceded he was trapped, and I laughed. I started and within 3 seconds, I heard the man snoring. Snoring!
How long must those 3 seconds have felt for him? I shelved the book and let the man drift into his dreams amused. Maybe I should learn to fall asleep like that: Right when he is telling me a movie summary.