This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 5; the fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
The first Saturday of every month. It happens like clockwork. Trepidation and excitement rolled into one. Furtively I step around, work and home left behind. Excuses, one after the other, each more feeble than the last.
“Let it go“, screams my mind. But I am like a dope-deprived addict swaying madly, frantic at even the prospect of what might come, what might be. This time I won’t, I promise myself, chanting over and over again, convincing myself. But as the day dawns, I imagine them working, striving, building, creating. And I sneak out. I am compelled to.
“You can’t“, sneers the mind, “look at you, a life in front of you, deadlines that will make your future all set, only if you do not digress. You want to give that up for a single day’s recreation?” I turn a deaf ear, I have to, the choice was always made, only I had stopped to delude myself. I will keep trying, have to, no matter what, pushes the stubborn will, and the weakened resolve.
The first Saturday was here. it was the day for Blog-a-Ton.
I ran over to the venue. It was time. The day had begun.
There was fire all around, glaring and dancing around the huge black boulders. There were stalactites and stalagmites, but black as soot. It was a place made of rocks. Everyone around looked like a square, just like their profiles in Facebook, sitting around. And each one of them had a laptop. I had come empty-handed, nothing with me as yet, just to see how others were doing. They looked up as I entered.
The Marshal was flexing his muscles, baring his teeth, “You’ll never get my vote, you worthless lump!”
Madhu, the defending champion, came over and said soothingly, “Of course, you are good. You are the Maverick! But I’m better!!”. He cackled madly.
I couldn’t believe two of my favourite people could say that. Men are cruel, I thought, nearly in tears.
And I bumped into The Solitary Writer, “You wanted to compete with me, eh? Watch me tear you apart!!” I stammered, “You were supposed to be my friend….” But it dissolved into nothingness,as he transformed into something big and green in front of my eyes. When suddenly Shilpa appeared, “Don’t worry girl, don’t mind them, let’s play Farmville.” I actually heard horses neighing and saw reindeers (?) flying.
But it wasn’t to be. I couldn’t be content, just farming. I went ahead deeper into the cave. The daylight was almost absent there. I saw a very tall lady sitting on her haunches. When she saw me, she stood up. And I cricked my neck trying to look at her, whoa, she was at least 7 feet tall. “You don’t remember me”, she said sadly. “They call me Lambi.” She made to shake my hand, but I was so scared thinking that she will wring my neck, that I ran away. And bumped into my friend Neha, “You were supposed write in my blog, and you are here??”, she screeched. Sid was there (I could see his “Stupidity” name tag) and he doubled over laughing. Pawan was shaking his head, “You were my friend but alas, no more”. Shankar telling me, “I won’t ever let you ride my Ferrari” Anamika crying, “You are a good-for-nothing Bengali”. Dhiman was shaking his head too….
I was now bawling, tears were flowing uncontrolled, unashamed…. everyone hated me…. just because I had no post!
Suddenly the Marshal tapped on my head and cried in a booming voice (he now resembled Hagrid), “The hour is approaching. You will vanish at 0000 hrs. Be warned….”
Where had the time gone? I had to write, write for my life. Anything, anything at all. I saw I had a pen in my hand all along, but I couldn’t pry my laptop open.
And I thought and thought and thought, darkness was becoming even darker, and I was still thinking, all alone. Every one had gone home. And I started writing about ‘Saving the World’ (!!) with a stick in my hand on the dirt. And it was almost ready. I started running…. The Marshal was laughing jubilantly, as he was pulling the the huge rocks together, with bare hands, closing the gates. And out of nowhere a hand came out, Bharathi (looking something like Rannvijay of MTV Roadies) pulled me in. And now I could submit my post……….
The damned beeping alarm woke me up before I could complete the whole dream, err, nightmare (which was more of a result of Harry Potter, lack of ideas, being not-too-cold, and a very warm quilt) and submit my dratted post. But with it came relief, and the realisation, the day is just beginning, there’s still time for writing the post. I can stop running around, and there weren’t actually those embarrassing tears. And I will write and submit just to get these scary multiple personalities off my back.
So, all in today’s work :
- Write down the nightmare.
- Apologize to everyone.
- Share laughs?? (Please be lenient)
- Get back to my deadlines.
- Get a life?
And last I saw, Madhu, Stephen and the Marshal are as nice as ever. All of the characters are still my friends. And Shankar doesn’t have a Ferrari. 🙂 🙂
N.B. I am grateful that I didn’t dream of each and every one of my blogger-buddies. I don’t think I would have been any shape to write the post then. As it happens, one was one too many!
The nightmare is partially true. Embellishments are obviously there, but please do NOT be offended (this is supposed to be funny, if you are awake). Or should I say,
“All the characters (not names) are purely fictional, any resemblance to any living person is a product of my over-active imagination, and a sign that I care enough to dream about you (even if it is in a nightmare)“
Lots of Love,
The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.