Stop n Stare

Stop and stare
I think I'm moving but I go nowhere
Yeah I know that everyone gets scared
But I've become what I can't be
Oh, do u see what I see...

OneRepublic obviously doesn’t know me from anywhere. But they are apparently clairvoyant enough to sniff out a guy’s vision disorder, from halfway round the globe. Cos some lines from their talismanic song seem right at me.

And yes, I have a sight related problem. It is called staring. Intensive, focused, immovable staring.
To elaborate; my eyeballs have a habit of getting stuck on almost anything. This usually stretches up to many seconds, sometimes minutes and in some classes where the preacher’s voice is too arrhythmic that I can’t catch my usual winks, STARING at the greenboard lasts hours.
The scariest part of this whole exercise is that I have no idea what I am looking at. It could be anything from the dangling earrings of a cute classmate, her fastrack watch strap that matches her sky-blue salwar shawl, the minimalist belt buckle of a cocky bald professor, or the patterns that little plants make on my bedroom window.

Thus I see things that others miss. For instance, did you know one of Ghajini’s street thugs is rich enough to wear Converse and Levi’s?
Anyways the point is, with strange powers come stranger reactions. So before you guys get jealous of possibly the last person you’d ever get jealous of, listen to this.

Executive express, 7.20 pm.

I’m sitting opposite three hunks. All are in cool multicolored attire, denims in different shades of blue, some slick steel watches, and in all probability are medical students.
To my utter horror, I found a girl on my right who looked just like the last one who broke my ‘very-breakable’ heart. And I don’t mean that cocky bald professor. She was so damn cute and was traveling with her dad who seemed to have a frown from birth. So looking in that direction was automatic suicide.

I took out my cell phone. With Kanye West blaring and nothing else to do, my body switched on superpower mode. Without my consent, of course. So apparently I was looking at, for an embarrassingly long time, at the contours on the boys’ denims. Especially the zipper area. I was thinking it resembled the hills that we were passing by, complete with valleys, ridges and tiny rivulets. Midway I was confused if the jean was Trigger or Spykar. The yellow ochre stitches looked like one of the two. I stared sharply.
Then, the guy shifted in his seat. That is when I noticed they had all turned silent, and were looking at me with a sense of violent suspicion. I looked up with a jolt, and knew at once that smiling was a bad idea.
“So you think my Dickens is a joke, huh? He’s taller than you, you desperate pervert…”, his eyes told me.

I looked away. Shit.

Alleppey Express, 9.30 pm.

I don’t know what’s with my superpower and trains. That is where I always get humiliated. And this happened sometime ago. Thought I’d write in increasing order of humiliation.
A Tamil family of three was sitting opposite me. Dad, mom, and a not-very-cute girl of 3 years tops. I was on a call from my mom. The same boring questions about what I ate, my luggage security, other blah.
Superpower mode was switched on, yet again. I had no idea what I was looking at, until the Tamil mom stopped knitting and in a frenzy, pulled down the girl’s frock further down, to cover whatever was visible of her tiny dark legs.

Sweet fuckin Jesus! My mouth was split wide open. My eyes pleaded to her.
“Ma’am o dear ma’am, what is she some months old, rite??.... I had a bad dinner, and if I look any bit desperate, that is the reason why… I am not as wicked as I might come across…” and a lot of sorry’s.
Everything fell on deaf ears, eyes rather. She muttered something in disgust.
My goodness, I can’t stand it. Where the fuck is my berth?

Epilogue:
It was this time of the year that I normally announce the ‘Best pair of balls in my body’ award. I sent a little note to my eyes, the surefire favorites.
“You guys thought you’d win it again this year? No, you and your wayward ways are a disgrace and a danger to my livelihood and hence are disqualified. Consequently, the only other pair is declared automatic winners even though they haven’t done anything to prove their existence as yet. Mend your ways, and try again next year.”

Kudos balls!