Unproductive Tuesdays

So, at 2 am, about 10 days after I start a blog, I finally post something on it. Figures. Not that I have anything to write about though. This was supposed to be a place for the saner versions of my ramblings, but it looks like I'm going to be just as vague as I usually am and flit from thought to thought at rapid-fire speed, leaving both you and me wondering what the hell I'm talking about. Look, its happening already!

I suppose this is what happens when you're sleep deprived yet wide awake after a typically boring Tuesday at work (yes, Tuesdays are the most boring because it's almost the end of my working week) and are fortified by the endless cups of chai that sustain a newspaper office.

Now, I'm back home. While the rest of the house slumbers, I make myself a mug of hot chocolate and settle down with a good book (Conn Iggulden's Wolf Of The Plains - reading it for about the 15th time!) only to realize that it isn't holding my attention.

It's raining outside, the raindrops a staccato beat on the trees and the leaves. The wind is cooler than usual, just cold enough to raise the goosebumps and make you shiver for an instant. Crickets and insects compete to add the best background noise, probably aiming for that jungle feel to make you think you're in the middle of a forest.

I'm not. I'm in Mumbai. Navi Mumbai to be specific (the off button to Mumbai's power switch). The monsoons have arrived so suddenly, it's like being slapped with a fish. The first day's rains have already left the people staggering, and presented me with a stayover at the office. But muggy Mumbai has cooled down. Everywhere is greener and a whole lot muddier. And soggy. But the hills in Navi Mumbai are covered with clouds.

Definitely not the kind of weather that makes you want to work (if there is any that can) or makes you want to sleep (like in the summer). No, this is the time to curl up with a good book and a mug of hot chai/coffee/cocoa/chocolate/preferred hot beverage of choice and sit where you can soak in the weather.

Until there is that urge to write something, anything that has you reaching for a pen and paper. Or a laptop. The thoughts and ideas are a jumble in your head as you try to unscramble them and give them some order. The rains bring a whole new batch of possible plots to ponder upon.

However, 10 minutes later, having deleted whole paragraphs at least four times over, I call it a day. Clearly, the plots are happy having a party.

End of ramble.

To the friend who encouraged and then pestered me to start this, thanks. At last you have something to read :D You asked for it!