Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy

Monkey is back with vengeance.

Wait! Before that, you need to learn about his recent disappearance. I don’t know how many of you are already aware of his unstable behaviour, but this time he jolted me out of the customary acceptance I had grown for him.

For new visitors, Monkey is my gnu. Not your average people pleaser and famously sucks at small talk. He seldom talks. I had gotten used to the rolling eyes and the occasional grimace that usually form his emotional fibre.

I found a job. It pays me enough to keep me alive, kicking and handle Monkey’s occasional tantrums. The only problem is that it’s a real job. Gnus are not built to slave and toil for survival and he loathes the idea of toiling for a few pennies of slavery. An idealist by nature. Therefore, he ends up being the preferred prey of the Serengeti. To add to his anxiety, the concrete jungle didn’t turn out to what he had expected it to be. There was no grass there.

He hates bothersome blabber and when a bad day at work makes one prattle, Monkey runs for the hills. That’s exactly what happened. He disappeared one day without a word. Initially, it hardly made a difference. I was much better without the cynic in a lot of ways. Not that I’m a believer myself, but the episodic rants and sighs to my issues were not supportive. We hit it off very well in the beginning because I gave him a corner in my life where he could remain in the shadows and not be bothered. Not many noticed his presence around. But the ones who did didn't quite recognize the peculiarity of his existence and that was just perfect for his sustenance in my world.

Lately, my intrusiveness had started riling the wildebeest and drove him to scurry towards peace. ‘Good riddance!’ - was my initial response, till the emptiness of the shadow started irking. The Monkey that kept my dreams real, the Monkey that kept ME real was gone. Probably...for good. Growing up with a strangely stable brute like him had made me who I am - The fighter. He left when I stopped fighting and gave in. The realization of the loss just dawned upon me and the storm was back in my eyes. Blood curdled at the thought of defeat and unrest approached me again. While I tossed and turned in my sleep, the shadows kept reminding me of the dweller.

There’s a reason why he chose to leave the wild for the corner in my life. He used to feed off the unrest and the turmoil and in return, gave me the vigour to battle. Just when the awareness approached me, Monkey marched right back into his favourite corner with a wicked smirk drawn across his face and I just unruffled myself while I waited for the war to begin.

My Pet Gnu Is Upset Again

I. Am. Not. A. Birthday. Person.

Nor am I into anniversaries or Mother’s Day or Father’s Day or Forgotten Distant Uncle’s Pet Dog Day. I do not call myself a cynic, though many of my near and dear ones (N.AN.D.Os) would disagree. I might come across as a recluse, which I clearly am not. You can check with the same NANDOs. And no, this post is not about what I like or dislike or about who I am. Even my pet gnu ‘Monkey’ wouldn’t be able to define who I am. Trust me, Monkey knows me very well! Better than my NANDOs. But then, Monkey himself is going through an identity crisis of sorts. Ah! Leave Monkey out of all of this. He hates being dragged into debates.

Now, my saying ‘I am not a Birthday person’, does not imply that I hate the fact that I was born. It simply means that it’s no big deal. There’s a big difference. If every thing living on the face of this earth started throwing a huge birthday bash every time they reach that time of the year, imagine the amount of confetti and birthday waste we will have to take care of. I’m not kidding. You don’t want confetti falling on your head the day you get fired just because it’s that familiar pigeon’s birthday that keeps dropping little presents on your car everyday. I always felt that humans ended up celebrating the wrong occasions in life. Jesus Christ has a right to celebrate his birthday. He is the son of God! I don’t think I’m ready to take up as much suffering for humanity as he did. So, I choose to be left out of it. Surprise me with gifts on a random day if you wish. Now THAT’s a surprise!

Monkey ends up feeling a little left out on my birthdays. Not like he is the centre of attention all the time. As a matter of fact, nobody notices him and he’s fine with it. He doesn’t age in the same fashion as I do and it disturbs him that people celebrate when I get old and he doesn’t. He loves cake and hates it when nobody offers him a piece and instead waste it on my birthday facial. The aggression of my NANDOs on my birthdays confuses him to no end. He has started reading up a lot on affection and aggression. Might explain the identity crisis. Monkey doesn’t even remember my birth date. His birth date is a mystery too. He keeps changing it every time you ask him. I don’t think he remembers it himself. Gnus don’t have a fabulous memory. I think it works to his benefit. So, I asked him when his birthday was (again) for the umpteenth time today. That led to a discussion on birthdays followed by a heated debate on the whole idea of celebrating birthdays. He hates debates and arguments. Starts huffing like a wildebeest when riled up. So this post is dedicated to you Monkey! Hope you’ve cooled down now. Chronic boredom drove me into pawing at you. Guess, defending my NANDOs is just not worth your short temper.