After a long time, I am reading a book, slowly - line by line, word by word, almost afraid to finish it up. It's Siddhartha by Herman Hesse.
Every night, I go to sleep thinking about this book. Every morning, I wake up with this book in my mind. It's like being in love. It's fantastic.
This morning, I was reading a couple of pages, when I started daydreaming. I don't know what it was about - except that I was seeing myself as this impeccable person. All strong, sinewy, and exuding 'character' of intimidating proportions. I was thinking of designing some kind of a 'fasting' regimen to control my senses. Maybe then I'll become like this Siddhartha - if I tell my brain to shut up, it will. If I tell my stomach to stop feeling hungry, it will. It must be awesome to have that kind of self - control.
Anyway, I was lost in all this, when my cook taps me on the shoulder. She's brought me breakfast (hot porride with bananas and jaggery - it's yummy!) and some new dish she wants me to taste. (Brown rice with brocolli and soy sauce. That's tasty too.)
I make some happy noises and she goes back in to sautee some more vegetables. She's always sauteeing something. Suddenly, she turns back and says, "Didi...I think you should fast on Mondays."
"Why do you say that?", I ask, after I've checked to see if the transcript of my thoughts is getting displayed on my forehead.
"Good for self-control", she adds.
If I ever needed proof that the Universe was listening, I had it right then - loud and clear. So here goes...
Dear Universe, dear mighty, unknowable sanctum of power, dear haven of fulfilment and source of desires and all other patents of hysterical eulogies...you decided to talk to me! I'm thrilled. But to have my cook convey me a message on fasting?
I could do without the gentle comedy. Thank you.