Mode C is as much for Calvin as it is for Chaos, as much for Cool as it is for Cold, as much for Class as it is for Crass.

Mode C is a way of life, the Calvin way of life which I am so fascinated by as to keep trying to make it my own way of life. But what exactly is Calvin's way of life, you ask...and I say that there are no clear answers to this one.

I strongly believe, however, that almost all the seriously critical fundamental concepts of life, they are just the bogies under Calvin's bed that he is afraid of. Everyhting else...Miss Wormwood, Susie, Mom and Dad, and of course above all, Hobbes...aren't they all merely the means that he uses to attack these bogies?

It is nothing, therefore, but the perspective of each of these players on the stage of Calvin's dramatic life that helps him fight these bogies and move on in his own unique way...listening to all but doing only what finally makes sense to his own individuality. This is what comes closest, I guess, to the Calvin way of leading one's life...

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Am I back or what???

Over the period that I have been absent from this space, I have been dead and re-born so many number of times that I have absolutely lost count. I never thought that I will be writing about all this but given the amount of time that I have at my disposal and given the fact that I can't make better use of this time at office, here I am, ready to recount what has been the most memorable episode of my small life so far.

It all started with one of my friends' mother having passed away and my decision to visit him and his family in this bad time and offer whatever solace I could. After much dilly-dallying between the 6AM and 11AM flight, I finally booked the tickets for the early morning flight. Since it would have been too early to sleep and get up again, I just decided to give the good old bed a miss. It must have been the lack of sleep that convinced me that taking my car along would be a bad idea since I would have to pay a heavy parking fee. After much deliberation, I decided to take my flatmate's brother along on my bike so that he could get it back once I got off at the airport.

So far, the idea seemed to be pretty okay at the face of it but it soon turned into a nightmare. As I climbed up the long, curved South Extension flyover, I had no idea what waited for me at the other end of the flyover. As it turned out, it was a car standing right in the middle of the flyover without any lights or idicator, apparently doing nothing else but waiting for disaster to happen...and happen it did!

Since I couldn't possibly see the car before I had very closely approached its rear, I went ahead and did what anyone would have been forced to do, that is, dashed into the bloody car with applomb. A few hours later, I was lying on the bed at AIIMS Trauma Center with a borken hip and a broken shoulder, having been refused admission to AIIMS General Hospital, since mine was a special trauma case. Sounds big, doesn't it?

It was big, and it has been four and a half months since that fateful day, with two of those months spent in an unrelenting zero-movement posture on the hospital bed and another two and a half spent under the loving care of my parents at home. I managed to join work just day before yesterday and though still walking on crutches, things are looking up for me, finally. All the while I was at home recuperating, I had been thinking of writing a blog on the many things that had been going through my mind in the hospital. I had even thought of a number of titles for the post, the most kinky of them being "43 days of nakedness".

Somehow, with some complications like Peroneal Nerve Palsy and Avascular Necrosis (look them up on the net if you want, pretty scary things) creeping up, I could never get started on the post. It is only now that things are somewhat rosier and I have sat down for this writeup. I don't know when the next post is going to come because I am wiser now, having made one too many unrealized promises.