|
Image credit: Google |
Meshed up in hangover mode, spicy kebab, chicken rolls, biryani and flavor of alcohol steam still rolling into the senses. The party is not over yet. The year ringleted into your senses like the worn out engagement ring and a new calendar replacing the decayed like the super expensive branded denim sitting straight on your un-toned body. Resolutions are made and curled fresh in the mind to achieve targets as if you woke up as superman or superwoman.
Like relationships and love, R for resolutions is made and broken in no time. Can you keep the fresh promises made? It's too early to break them for our over-optimistic minds are claiming victory. Right from breaking the belly to cutting smoke, clinching money deals, getting married or dating this sexy siren, or writing this book you've been striving for a decade, resolution starts high on the mind like the red bull to push into action that goes kaput in no time. You haven’t even noticed your listed objectives splintering into tiny pieces.
Blame it on hyper journalism bearing the imprint of Arnab Goswami shouting on Republic TV on the whys we must trust the 56-inch chest to bring Vikas into our lives. The R-word is so dreaded that I have stopped trusting my super duper positive instincts to make all dreams or objectives come true in the calendar year. It's better I sleep like minion and cover my head with a blanket. Time to stop going hoarse for the decade that flitted seeming like a year and an emotional chasm that I’d opt to bang my head on the wall instead of making deep, dark promises.
I shall wail like I always on the lack of money or that chick who broke my heart or groin in the hot summer. Trust me, gulp Bisleri water to calm down the spirit and soothe the nerves. You could still down an Old Monk. What a calendar change? For your kind information, I still haven't got a diary to pen my agenda for days and weeks. As it is, a long time for us to reach the graveyard end of December.
You see Sir, I am slowly mastering the art to prevaricate when some random motivational speaker asking me about listing targets. I feign ignorance and play dumb, at times donning SRK's avatar in Darr, 'Rrr...resolution...what's that'. The enthusiastic speaker lets me wallow in self-pity and now you see how I get away with crime.
The dreaded R is made to be broken and my common sense urges me on the whys of going into the mode of too much hard work to see all of them flying out of the window by the end of January. Just chill, let me plonk my body on the beach with a book, make stupid jokes on social media, turn into a troll and enjoy my scotch.
There is logic in it. Every day, I fucking stare at the empty draft of my book to be published this year, that year, yes this year pakka, forever traveling in my mind to Dharamshala, Paris, Egypt, Istanbul, New York and everywhere. You name it, you get. Every nanosecond, I am making crores stashed in the bank of my grey cell.
Just chuck out the silly R and drown all of them in the Arabian sea and make paper boats with your list which you can play in the monsoon. Now, let me eat and enjoy my drink for I am already high with your boring resolutions.
Happy resolutions
Vishal