This story really is not funny. And I promise to sue anyone who laughs. Is that clear? Good. Read on.
My New Year resolution is to eat once a day. Not that I am an eat-it-all glutton, but I found out that I am more productive when I skip breakfast and lunch. Now don’t give me the breakfast-is-crucial lecture; I’ve dealt already with enough of that. I am not a doctor, but I know enough science to know that some things are just overrated.
Seven days into the New Year, I invited a friend out for lunch in one fast-food joint like that. I told him I wasn’t taking anything. He was surprised and kept asking ‘are you sure?’ Of course I was sure. But Christ! The smell of food was almost unbearable.
That night I dreamt about food. I was munching chicken and chips. When I woke up the next morning, my stomach growled like a wailing hyena. I sauntered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. There was a big slice bread grinning at me. Then there was a plastic of egg-sauce sitting beside it. Who put this nonsense there? I hissed and slammed the fridge shut.
I brushed my teeth and retreated to the bedroom where I sat at a table. I put on the laptop and opened Microsoft Word. Another blank page. My stomach growled again. I ignored it and started typing. But thirty minutes later, I realised the page was still blank except for one sentence. Guess what was there? – I AM HUNGRY. What the hell is happening?
I left the table and lay on the bed, my face to the ceiling. I started to think of the bread and egg-sauce; how sweet it would taste; how I could curl up on a chair with a book and devour the entire piece. What was the big deal anyway? It wasn’t like someone was holding me back. Yes, I had made a resolution, but hey, it’s just for today. That won’t hurt.
Really? Another stream of thought emerged. You eat now and your winning streak has ended. Your seven days winning streak. C’mon; you can beat this hunger. Just get back to the laptop and be productive. Before you know it, time will whistle by, and it would be evening.
I took a deep sigh and pushed myself off the bed. I attacked the laptop again with more determination. My stomach growled yet again, protesting viciously. I ignored it and tried to focus on the words.
But there was no inspiration. It was like I didn’t even know how to string a proper sentence. Am I that dumb?
Twenty-eight minutes later (I was checking my table-clock), the brick-walls had not caved in. I decided to do something that would not require active creativity – reading. A hardcover of Dan Brown’s Lost Symbol was lying on the table. I opened to a random page.
But o boy (o girl) nothing was entering at all. I was just there, staring at the page like one mumu.
Fifteen minutes later I was warming the egg sauce on the stove.
LOL…. So that it won’t get sour before evening right?