In
case you didn’t know, this is a bubble wrap.
This is a documentation of my memories with a certain piece of bubble wrap.
Day 1: My parents receive a photo frame as their anniversary gift. And the
photo frame is wrapped in – you guessed it – bubble wrap. It’s a perfectly
square piece of soft, mushy plastic. My mom tells me to throw it in the bin
along with the gift paper. I follow her orders.
Day 2: I retrieve the bubble wrap from the bin before the kaamwali bai takes
the daily waste to dispose it off. A part of me told me last night to do so.
And looking at such a perfectly shaped piece of unadulterated, unburst piece of
bubble wrap kinda made me excited for the new source of entertainment that
would keep me occupied whenever I would feel bored.
I
take a bath and sit down to read. But such is the magic of the intricately
woven paragraphs of KDT that it took me only 10 minutes to lose interest in warfarin.
I
put the book aside and glance at that beautiful piece of plastic beside me.
Deep down inside, I don’t want to burst it. It has been inflated since its
inception and I don’t want to be uncouth by tarnishing its chastity.
To
heck with it. I am bored, and bubble wraps are inanimate objects. Who cares?
I
hold the plastic in my hands and press a bubble.
Phat.
I
press another
Phat.
Aw
heck! This is so awesome! I now use both of my thumbs.
Phat phat.
Jeez
this is so much more rewarding that I expected it to be! I am now using six
fingers in total, all together.
Phat phit phut pichak phat phat phit phat phit phut phat phat phat.
Day 3:
Yesterday,
I wasted 30 minutes of my precious time in bursting a few rows of plastic
bubbles.
Today,
I plan to waste an hour more.
I
sit down and begin by brushing my hand over all those bubbles I burst
yesterday. Their crenated physique is no match for the turgid, swollen bubbles
I plan to devour today.
I
don’t think I am going to search “Satisfying Videos” on YouTube for a couple of
weeks now. All the satisfaction I need in my life is trapped in little pockets
of air.
Day 4:
There
is this one stubborn bubble I am pissed off with. It’s the seventh one from the
left, in the twelfth column, and it refuses to burst no matter how hard I try.
I have spent two days trying to press it with all my might, but every time I give
it a push, it compresses and bounces back to its original configuration like a trampoline
shouting “Fuck You.” I've already hurt the nail of my index finger
during one of my attempts, but all it does is give me a middle finger.
Bubble
(7,12) is my arch nemesis. And I hate losing to inanimate objects.
Day 5:
The
bubble wrap is the reason I wake up everyday. All I want to do now is to get
over with my daily work, exercise and studies just so that I can spend a couple
of hours with the most amazing non-living thing in my life right now.
I
also gave a thought towards going to sleep holding the bubble wrap in my hand,
but discarded it as soon as I realised how disgusting it sounded.
Day 6:
I
have deduced the reason as to why I am so obsessed over this silly piece of
plastic. It's not only because it is mentally satisfying to pluck those
bubbles, but also because they never seem to end. Everyday I plan to
continue with the next row, I realise that a few of the bubbles I had
previously taken down have regrown, full and turgid.
I
have never been able to figure out why this keeps happening.
How
can a burst bubble regrow itself back to its original configuration even when
it has been torn?
Or
do the torn bubbles give rise to the new ones, like spores bursting out of a
sporangium?
Do
phantom bubbles exist?
It
has now become my life goal to find a solution to this conundrum. I expect the
reader to help me out on this. You will receive bubble wraps throughout your
life for free, if you succeed in helping me snap out of this.
Day 7:
Bubble
(7,12) still refuses to burst. And I seem to have developed some sort of an
emotional connect with him.
He
has taught me so many life lessons. He is stubborn, and yet moulds himself
according to the way I press him. He has the power to tolerate any kind of
adversity, and never gives up no matter how hard I try to burst him.
He
is the hero I never deserved. And in just a span of a week, I know so much
about him.
He
has inspired me to be a resilient person, and I thank him for that.
Day 8:
It’s
official. I have a bubble wrap fetish. It’s taking over my life and I cannot
imagine a day without bursting a few bubbles out of self-contention. I'm
reminded of Taylor Durden's haunting words from Fight Club:
“The things you own end up owning you.”
I
am trapped in a black hole surrounded by plastic bubbles, and I cannot get out
until I burst every single one of them.
Day 9:
I
FINALLY BURST BUBBLE (7,12).
Fuck
you, Bubble (7,12) !
But
just 5 minutes into my moment of elation, I feel saddened by his loss. I have
been with him during his thicks and thins, quite literally.
And
now, he is torn apart. He shall never be swollen again. I want to shed a tear,
but the mere realisation that I would actually give such thought to a small
plastic bubble makes me question my sanity.
I
spend the rest of my night lying awake, thinking about what I am doing with my
life.
Day 10:
I
think I need therapy. This is getting way out of hand.
But
then I convince myself by reminding me of all the times I have behaved in a
disorderly, disoriented, drunk manner with people and it calms me down to think
all of this is just who I am.
All
of this will pass. I just have to wait for the when.
Not
to mention that I will enjoy every single moment with the bubble wrap until
then.
Wow
this rhymes! Yay.
Day 11:
I
gave an online test while bursting bubbles today.
The
very fact that I framed the above sentence this way, rather than “I burst bubbles
while giving an online test today” shall be enough to highlight how big of
an influence the bubble wrap has been on me.
Day 12:
I
love you, bubble wrap.
I
know it sounds messed up and I definitely need psychiatric help after my
confession, but I fucking love you.
Never
has anything made me as happy as you have, and I don’t think it would be easy
for me to get over you if you disappear from my life.
Day 13:
I
wake up and the first thing I realise is that the bubble wrap is gone.
My
first reaction is panic.
I
run to the dustbin with groggy eyes, totally forgetting to brush my teeth.
The
dustbin's empty. Panic intensifies.
I
ask my Mom in the sanest, calmest, least concerned tone I can come up with-
“Ma,
did you remember there was a bubble wrap that came with your anniversary photo
frame? Have you seen it anywhere?”
“I had told you ages ago to throw it in the trash can. Ek kaam bhi dhang
se nahi hota tujhse. Aaj subah mujhe dikha toh socha tujh jaise nikamme ko kaam
kehne se achha khud hi kar doon. Maine kachre me daal diya. Kaamwali lekar gayi
hogi.”
I
am shattered.
Aftermath:
I
won’t say that it took me several days to cope up with the loss, because that
would be weird. But I won’t deny the fact that my days with the bubble wrap
changed me.
Break
ups hurt, even more so with inanimate objects.
I
think the best course of action for me now, is to think of happy thoughts and
not go and cry under a rug every time I am reminded of the thousands of bubbles
I burst in the past few days.
I
have nothing but good memories with the bubble wrap, and I hope everyone in the
world realises how beautiful a creation this has been in the history of human
innovation.
I
need to move on.
I
shall now proceed to order a photo frame on Amazon.
No comments:
Post a Comment