Road rage

I heard the term "road rage" for the first time about ten years ago - and it somehow felt good to know that they have a term for it. I always felt that I was a bit impatient and very unforgiving driver/rider on the road, but to be able to belong to such a group - a sense of belonging washed all over me. It is like being understood in your native tongue in a far-flung distant land.

Trespassers will be shot, survivors will be shot again - I saw that sign somewhere in the net. I don't know many people who can keep the smirk off their face when they see it. Well, I would not want to be at the wrong end of it, but frankly, I can understand the sentiment! Think of the times when your recently fixed-painted-polished car gets that nudge from the rickshaw behind you. Or when the old rickshaw'wala is trying to navigate a turn, and leaves a thin white line on your door. I understand that it was not done with a malicious intent, but that does little to soothe my fury.

And what happened to abiding by the rules? Why is it that the rules are only supposed to be applicable to the people who get hit? The others can be on their merry way, leaving us eating dust and paying up for the repairs.

In Dhaka, the drivers have brought it down to an exact science. When two cars are vying for a single lane, the one on the left has a certain advantage - the one with the "right of the way" is scared of being pushed into the road-divider. But the actual decision is made based on which car is the cheapest. The cheaper the car (or the more broken down the car), the more preference it gets on the roads. It can be likened to letting a war veteran with battle scars go before you in the lift. There are those taxis who are soo bruised, I'm often scared that if I don't let the car pass, the driver might pick up a part of the car and throw it back at me!

On the roads, I do not roll down the windows anymore - lest I decide to reach out and grab the offending party by the neck. As of date, I have been involved in more than a few incidents where the police had to intervene. Although I maintain my stand that I was not at fault, I got into "almost fights", and had to make a promise to my mom that I would never try to drive in Dhaka by following the rules ever again.

Insomnia

If I had a lot of time in hand, I really don't know how I'd spend it.

Each day, I crave to get a few extra hours in my day. It seems that each day is packed with stuff that needs doing.

However much I try to get done, there always seem a lot of other things that need my attention. At the end of the day, I'm faced with a pang of disappointment. The already long hours of my waking hours get stretched, and I can barely crawl into my bed at the end of it before I pass out.... for about 10 minutes. And then the angst creeps in.

The thoughts would come rushing in, all at once, and fill the peaceful void that had been my mind a moment ago. They push their way past the sentries at the gate – a formless swirling mass of anxiety that can’t be quantified.

They come like chalk writings on a black board, making that annoying squeaky noise all the while. While I work away with a duster trying to cleanse the slate in all earnest, the chalk continues, unperturbed.

I’ve become jittery now-a-days… brittle… Afraid to close my eyes, I fight to stay awake. But eventually, unwelcome as it may be, sleep steals over me. The thoughts lurking in the darkest corners stealthily walk up, and come crashing through - the silence shattered to a thousand pieces…… yet once more…