13 April 2009
I heard a faint crackling sound on the other end, a feeble "Hello" and the line went dead. I had cut the call. In a not-so-recent past, i had read somewhere that as social beings, we tend to carry truck loads of shit with us. We keep gathering it from everywhere. From work, from home, from good-gone-bad relationships... from everywhere. And then we reach a point were we could carry it no longer and we could move no longer. We decide to dump it. And we dump it on whoever comes first in our line of vision. For a long time, i thought i carried no garbage with me (i still like to think so). But it was the most unpleasant feeling to spill out a can of worms on an unsuspecting call centre employee and to realise (after you have hung up on him) there is not much you can do about it now. I felt like a meek version of the screaming Will Smith from the movie 7 Pounds. Not that I'm chivalrous by any standards, but i just dont like the idea of being a garbage truck!