The worst laid plans

Every morning, when I force my eyes open after a couple of hours spent hitting snooze every time, I am harangued by the annoying alarm and resisting the urge to stay in bed for the duration of the day and blowing off my chores by pretending to be sick, I vow to be better. Today is the day, I tell myself, that I shall succeed in escaping this unproductive cesspool of a swamp I have been stuck in for longer than I care to admit. 

 I swear to begin work on my next book, which I assure myself will not only be an international bestseller but the winner of every prestigious prize there is, not to mention getting me a record-breaking movie deal. Then I shall use all the moolah raked up by its runaway success to literally clean up the streets of India, so that everything is totally shiny, sparkly and Instagram-worthy. 

 People will be able to head out into the great outdoors without being assaulted by the unassailable stench of garbage and assorted wastes. That will be my legacy to my beloved country. All I ask for, in return, is the Bharat Ratna, so that I will have something to brag about to the grandkids who will no doubt be bored to tears by my umpteenth retelling of the time I shook hands with the President of India, who told me that I was a National Treasure (or for all I know called me an uppity Jackass! Who the hell understands Hindi anyway?) and I thanked him most prettily in a mixture of English and Tamil. 

 There is a distinct possibility, that these things will happen sooner rather than later, I reassure myself. After all, the plan is to crawl out of bed, tweet about Ukraine, finish the monotonous tasks that will only take an infinity to complete in its entirety, whip out my laptop from wherever I hid it and get started on my book, which is going to be epic. And I really mean to do it. Soon. 

 It’s just that the Chennai Super Kings have lost a bunch of matches lately and I am yet to get over Dhoni’s ill-timed decision to hand over the captaincy to Jadeja. I just have to share my thoughts regarding the crisis on a WhatsApp group composed of true-blue CSK fans. For some unfathomable reason, there was a lot of acrimony regarding my well-meaning views harshly expressed with pithy GIFs and emojis. Somebody suggested that Rayudu, Bravo and Dhoni himself be dropped. What followed was a bloodbath!

 Needless to say, that unsightly episode put a spanner in my plans. But it doesn’t matter. I am determined to get started… Once I have realised my fitness ambitions of achieving a rad bod with under 2 percent body fat. It is a realistic plan for an author aspiring to become an actor. I am going to do it. But first things first. I have to stop hitting snooze. 

 

This column originally appeared in The New Indian Express