Reflections of a restless eccentric

 Yes, this is going to be one more rant post. After having been woken up from my slumber for the fifth time, I am in a grumpy and grouchy mood alright.  The lights, fans and geysers in my room are smart. They're so smart that they decide when to turn on and off. And if you're imagining some tech-savvy house where there are sensors that detect presence/movement, stop right there. That's not what I'm talking about. This is a bug, not a feature. In my room, the lights turn on in the middle of the night, arbitrarily. When we're sound asleep. I detest getting out of bed for anything, and turning off lights is no exception. My spirit animal must be a sloth bear, because I'd rather sleep with the lights on than get out of bed to turn them off. My husband is way more bothered by the lights than I am, so he's usually the one to get out of bed to turn them off too. No complaints there. But today, he's not at home you see. And so, the Narada of electrical Gods has ...

I live in this wonderful city that was once famous for gardens, and is now notorious for traffic. My workplace and home are located in opposite ends of the city, and my commute sometimes leads me into depths of despair. Why is everything so tough here? Even running an errand takes an hour at the very least. I listen to other people talking about small towns, where you can travel from one end to the other in under fifteen minutes, and I feel that is a luxury I can never afford. Everything is so painful and cloistered. The city reminds me of an overloaded lorry, struggling to carry its weight, spilling sand everywhere. I remember the times from my childhood, where Bangalore too, was one of those pleasant cities. Traffic was unheard of, and people used to complain of unnecessary traffic signals. Trees lined every road I could think of, and I never hated journeys. Slowly I grew up, and the city did too. Hotels and malls sprang up, and tech parks engulfed the city in concrete embraces. I...