It was the kind of morning, the sun under gossamer… the chirpy-chirp-chirp
birds riding the rollercoaster of the winds which blasts the lungs with such
powerful hopes and sinew with the heartbeat with the finishing of a professional motivator.
You take it all in. After all you did spend most of the night yesterday
tussling with your own logic bomb and finally did emerge a champion in your red
cape and gold crown. (Err..commenting the code is still left). The rhythmic
cadence of the breeze only adds to the messiness of your hair. You stand in
your balcony gulping in the morning tea and just looking, at nothing and
everything. The rain teases you with a few drops but then changes its mind like
a fickle child who on finding a different toy, shrieks with such enthusiasm
that you get goose bumps from that pristine and unreasonable joy.
And then you put on your pretty pink shoes and then ponder
for just a moment about the earphones on the side table. Then give up the idea
coz the whispers the outside seem to be revealing secrets from some buried
coffers perhaps. (Commenting won’t take much time…)
So you rush down the road, skip a puddle or two, your
curious eyes collecting every stray penny of pleasure, be it the token of nascence
from the freshly bathed leaves, which are still dribbling through their wet
taut hair or their sudden dissemination of dash of water on you as they jerk
towards you or the trail of their after shower scent that now clings to your
shoulder like a pet squirrel.
“No longer hysteric or frantic… when I said I love you, I
meant it…. So tell me I can win… Coz tonight we are Infinte’. Hums your head,
and you make no effort to supplant that thought. (Except you know you could’ve
just have already added the comments). Then as you reach that park, you greet
it with an unabashed smile of two old accomplices.
You look around and it’s all the same on this unique
morning. The same three midgets on the bench in south corner, capping one nostril
with a finger and trying to breath in or out with the other, while making sharp
observatory incredibly serious small talks. Then the lone guy,
impeccably dressed in white shorts and navy blue tee, ear plugs stuffed and a
stern look on his face. His speed never wavering, he rides the path like the
moon rides its orbit, nonchalantly and indefatigably.
Then there are the two, fattish ladies on the side, near the
swing. Taking turns in being diligent to touch their feet. You look at them and
you know or maybe you don’t. But, somehow, you still do that when they’ll get
back they will indulge themselves in another treat of cheese burst pizza for
all the effort they put in the morning exercise. Then there are always a bunch
of kids playing Frisbees and/or badminton (they probably have already completed
their home-code to the very end) and of course on the center of the stage, a
harmonious group of very to semi old, grandfather-ish figures, and their tryst
with yoga.
Now once you have surveyed your ground like a mean fox. You
hit the road, I mean, the pavement and begin your round of rounds. You know
you’d lose the count, but you inevitably begin with it. Habits! (phew).(Why not
have the habit to put in the comment as soon as the code looks good to go). You
observe the trees now. Like some gossip mongers,
they come close, they say something and lo! Pull apart as if laughing out
loudly over the inside joke they shared. And then the sunrays start
peeking through the leaves and you try hard to remember that Japanese word you
learnt that day for it. Korumbi? Komidi? What was it?! And you take a mental
note to check it out. (*chuckles* like those comments I remember to put in?!)
You go past all the
white jasmine and then the red hibiscus. And it takes you to the nostalgia trip to grandma, you see her face and its not from memory because its talking to you
in real time. It edifies you that the red ones are a favorite of Shivji, and
then the eyes close but the lips begin to dance and you are lost in whatever
this is, which of course you don’t remember. And you jerk back with that
grumbling stomach that you get because well… you haven’t commented the code
yet.
Now as you turn back to run to the gates and then to the
room and then to the laptop…
” The
world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place and I
don’t care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there
permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But
it ain’t about how hard ya hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep
moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how
winning is done! Now if you know what you’re worth then go out and get what
you’re worth. But ya gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing
fingers saying you ain’t where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody!
Cowards do that and that ain’t you! You’re better than that!”…
And you are not
sure if that even fits! “But you are better than that! You can comment your
code! Coz you are better than that!”….Yes I am better than that! I can put
comments in my code! I can write perfectly legible, reusable and concise and
precise and…. Code!
So you spend the
next couple of hours restructuring, cleaning up and commenting. And once again
you get up and pop your funny little head out. And come back running with
almost the same speed as you did the last time to place a one-day delivery order
for a larger bottle of sun-screen.
;) :) ;)
