That day was a tepid Saturday morning that begged for something hot to binge on. It must have been quarter to four. This was a carry forward from previous day’s all-nighter with a friend. We had finally landed outside a small tea joint that was embarrassingly functional and fully staffed, given the time of the day.
Jokes apart. This was like a whiff of fresh air after rummaging through a majority of the city’s expanse in lookout for something edible. Surprisingly for a matured metro, Chennai isn’t much of a nocturnal entity that acknowledges wee houred-hunger bouts.
Irony is a bitch that exactly knows when to rain on a parade. We had just ordered sandwiches and toasts in multiples of four to go with the two cups of coffee. Just when my mind was starting to wear its maternal hat to generate a guilt trip from the obscene calorie consequence that lay ahead, it just received a familiar call of attention from my brain that inundated every other emotion and sensation that had hitherto formed.
I gulped through my instalment of nirvana that came as caffeine in an impolite manner and took off in my friend’s bike. It was an emergency, dire at that. It didn’t help that the city and its props wouldn’t empathetically pave way to such unforeseen criticalities. So I had to weave my way through first signs of life for the day that consisted primarily of newspaper boys and milk vendors who were up before the city was for yet another time to ensure that it woke up, well informed and lactated.
I tried to accelerate to 80 from 60 kmph as I was going past the pristine lanes of Boat club road, a group of cute looking septuagenarians in jogging pants were clumsily scampering on the middle of the road like inebriated man to the tune of alcohol, with an air of entitlement that belonged in their living rooms. They had old age and I had sympathy going for it, but none of them were helping my cause. It wasn’t a perfect world.If it was, it wouldn’t have had a cluster of elderly men walking in anesthetic trance and a young man at his patience’s edge on a bike on the same road.
I finally went past that stretch to only fall from a frying pan to fire. This road had more craters in it than all of moon. Like men possessed the ability to cruise past that road with un-punctured tyres at all, the next stretch wore both, prudence and safety as a badge of honour. What with every ten metres punctuated with a sturdy speed breaker, like speed was an affordable imagination after the precious assault at all.
I was a few blocks away from what my friends referred to as my home. God..were the last ten minutes thoroughly exhausting. A crash course on patience building. As I got into my flat, I parked the bike asymmetrically outside my block and deftly fashioned my key into the key hole. My king size mirror on the hall was staring back at me welcomingly. Home sweet home it was!
I rushed to attend to the emergency, the sole cause of my sandwiches turning cold. Nary a sound for about three hundred seconds. I could see food from yesterday’s dinner dressed up in celestial clothes on their ascent to gateway of heaven, as I felt a familiar wave of contraction on my body. I had hit the sweetest spot of divinity accessible by my body, when water beneath plopped in receipt. No wonder it is called the Nature’s call. For when nature calls on someone, whoever or whenever, there is no avoiding it.