After going through the miseries of this existence with equanimity and fortitude, I have come to conclusion that I need to break away from this thing called hard work and routine.
Being a journalist of sorts can give you blood pressure, diabetes, diarrhoea, acidity, sleeplessness, nervous breakdowns, cancers, heart attacks, colds etc. So now having seen many of these diseases, I decided on a course of action which would bring me peace, good health, happiness and a steady supply of beer.
Then I chanced upon a man in saffron, all pious and pure, walking down the road.
Yes, I got it – a sage, a spiritual person who meditates. I did not think twice. Sage it is and spiritual it must be. Voila, so easy. The beard was there, easily grown to navel length in a few days and a paunch which suited the image.
Now having been a hack journalist from many moons ago, I asked myself the five Ws and one H which every journalist should know. So picking up a piece of paper, an old bill or something which was lying weeks in flat without my maid noticing, I went ahead with great enthusiasm.
Who – Me; What – Sage; Why – Peace Be on Earth and Mind; When – Now; Where – Pisoli, How – With a little help from a friend.
Now you ask why Pisoli, what Pisoli? Well there are plenty of reasons.
My boss, let’s call him JayDee, lives there and has spoken often about this wondrous place which is one with nature. This idyllic place would have delighted even the poet Wordsworth, let alone me.
He has often waxed lyrical about the monkeys on the windowsill, snakes near his garden and leopards roaming the jungles of Pisoli. Even a Russells Viper was kind enough to visit the area in search of a victim.
The night-time was very picturesque, particularly when there was the perennial power cut. I was honoured to visit the place during one such night. The sound of the crickets was in perfect harmony with the hoot of an owl and a roar of a distant wild animal.
However, Suresh, my rickshaw driver, started chanting the Gayatri Mantra and doubled his speed after the roar.
I found all this solidly poetical and already found a title for my first poem – Silent Night, Holy Leopard. But what swung it in my favour was the availability of beer. JeeDee assured me that he had a gent who graciously offered to deliver the stuff home. Now every spiritual man needs refreshments now and then as fodder for the mind and jolt for the brain.
Here I am now, sitting on an armchair with secure holds, enjoying the beer and pondering on a trip to Mumbai in a hyperloop and a journey to Mars and study spirituality there.
Thank you sincerely JayDay for your usual help and thank you Pisoli for being a land of dreams.
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