Random thoughts in a love letter

Dear XXXX,

It is 2100 hrs on a Sunday evening. I have finished preparing my job list for tomorrow. My mom is watching some tamil channel and I am here listening to my thoughts and the Goo Goo Dolls.

I am just writing what ever comes to my head. These are the random notes of a wandering mind. This document is the canvas of an unabashed dreamer. This dreamer is looking for someone to shape his dreams – maybe a potter in Goa. Maybe.

I have for long nurtured the idea of scripting a sitcom based on my life. In fact I think that my entire life is full of raw material for a mega sitcom. I have recognized this and I should do something about it before somebody discovers this goldmine and gets a copyright on my life. It is possible with the WTO and its TRIPS. There you go, another scenario for a sitcom. A multi-national production house gets a copyright on my life and I cannot speak about my life for it will be a violation of copyright. In such a situation, I will not be permitted to write this letter. OH my god! I think some hacker working for David Kelley is bugging my computer as I type.

Anyways if it is meant to happen, it will. I cannot stop it. Meanwhile I shall continue to let my mind wander and my fingers punch relentlessly on this hapless keyboard. I had better keep this keyboard safe for it knows more about the workings of my mind than anyone alive. I feel sorry for it and I must apologize someday to it for abusing it. Anyways this keyboard is very loyal – it responds to a light touch anytime of night or day. I cannot say the same about the mouse. It does not respond as well and I keep getting the left and right mouse button mixed up. The things are designed for right-handed people (how common!) while I am left-handed. So, the right mouse is actually on the left for me and invariably the wrong menu pops up when I use the mouse. That should explain my fondness for the keyboard.

Gosh! I didn’t realize that I felt so strongly about the keyboard. I can’t imagine what I would write about you if I let my heart dictate to the keyboard without periodic incursions of rationality from the mind.

How much can I write about nothing without saying something? It is impossible. When you write about nothing you are still writing about something, even if that something is nothing.

I feel like Woody Allen for writing something like that. Have you read his play “God!”? If you haven’t, you should.

Getting back to my sitcom! (Finally! I should start training my mind. It doesn’t listen to me. My mind has a mind and life of its own.)

Getting back to my sitcom again. I have identified several chunks of my life that will fit very well into the sitcom mode. These are as follows:

• My quest for love in my life. That’s is mega sitcom in itself. I am searching for a title.But all the good ones are taken.
• My career in advertising and publishing
• My tryst with acting and fame
• Sports and the story of a 5’5”tall high jumper

I shall start with episode one soon. Now I am off to meet with some childhood friends. Childhood friends are the best. They know your every quirk, mood and intention. They are the only kinds that will tolerate me. So I had better keep them in good humour. I can hear them honking outside my door. Got to go.

Will write you soon

Love

Vidyuth

September 28, 2003