Longings and long weekends.
This year sucks. 2011, I mean.
Nothing to do with how my life is turning out to be. But in general, a year with not many 3-day-weekends where most of the Government declared holidays fall on either Saturdays or Sundays cannot be called great.
Not even when you have sex 17 times a day all year long.
After waiting for nearly 8 months for a really long weekend, you expect to do something worthwhile laze around like a walrus when it finally shows up. But no. Life’s designs always catch you by surprise.
Rakhi happened to be on the first day of the 3 day weekend. So I travel 17 kilometres across Bangalore to my cousin’s place. I didn’t mind that. Strike one. I had 2 more days.
The next day happed to be a day out for everyone except me and my 22 years old cousin. Now I had to baby sit him. Day 2. Strike 2.
But then, finally, as Day 2 came to a close, I decided to leave my family to its own ways of seeking pleasure and decided to bounce back to my pad to do a few illegal addictive smoking substances.
Day 3 looked good from where I was.
378 metres. Exactly. That’s how far my bike went before a rusted corner of my petrol tank gave away making the petrol in the tank gush out like as if it was hit by a bullet or something.
Strike 3. Out.
One more day with family as my bike gets ready at an unknown mechanic’s shop.
Long weekend. My foot.
