The nursery rhymes on baby TV. Blink. A magician’s faux magic tricks. Blink. A highly invested Ad of a cheap phone. Blink. Endless morning shows that only promotes wardrobes and high heels. Blink. A sentimental serial. Blink. An action movie. Blink. Programs on animal hunting making their lives miserable. Blink. Yellow journalism. Blink and stays that way leaving subtle emptiness in the air.
Surfing is fun. Be it the water sport or something much easier and effortless as TV channel surfing. But only surfing the TV lets you have an opportunity to shift from a highly sentimental mood to an un-novelettish mood in nanoseconds. But when life becomes a prototype of such surfing, it becomes bizarre, because the events are not ostentatious but genuine. And the only time you get to gather your thoughts is the precious dark seconds while tuning from channel to channel.
A lazy Wednesday morning. Blink. A cup of tea and a book. Blink. A phone call with which all gone. Blink. A wedding to attend at the end of the week. Blink. Cricket world cup and the anticipation of who’s going to be the one. Blink. Fear of bad grades and returning to school. Blink. The rising list of desires. Blink. Uncertainty of the future. Blink. Death of a closed one. Blink and stays that way leaving subtle emptiness in the air.