Life, the Universe and Unemployment

Uma Joshi ye ye ye
my mother, she told me a 60 years ago

there came an old man knocking at the door

with an ooh, aah, i want some pa

the pa is sweet, i want some meat

the meat is rough (?), i want to go by bus

the bus is full, i want to go by bull

the bull is fat, i want my money back

the money is green, i want some jelly beans
the jelly beans are red, i want to go to bed,

the bed is white, i want to say good night.

Believe it or not, this post has a point. But first,
Last night, I was thinking about the 80s. And then I thought my hair kind of looked like my dad's hair in the 80s for a while. I contemplated wearing shiny bell-bottoms and giant glasses-that-cover-half-my-face while I ride a bike indoors with my head banging in strange ways. But then, I had to discard the idea because I don't have shiny bell-bottoms (must add to birthday wishlist), giant glasses-that-cover-half-my-face, a bike, the knowledge of how to ride a bike, indoors that can accommodate bike-riding, the ability to shake my head in more than 3 ways and thankfully, the hair. I swear, my dad looked like a farmer going to the disco back then. Psychotic!

 
But, back to 'Uma Joshi. It's one of the most popular rhymes/games you play as a child brought up in India during the 80s. Uma Joshi's mother here reminded me of something. Or wait. Is Uma Joshi the mother? So misleading. Anyway, presuming that Uma Joshi is the mother, she and the old man who came knocking at her door 60 years ago reminded me of something. Lately, I've been unemployed. It was great at first, but then it became a drag, and then it became painful and now it's just unemployment. There is just one thing to be said about unemployment. It is EVIL. It makes you stop doing nice things like believing in yourself and start doing unnecessary things like whining all the time. And soon enough, among all the nothingness and frustration and fury and low self-respect and a gigantic zit, you spit out the one decent poem you've written in 2.5 months before you go crying to your blog about all of it. I've lost count of how many stupid minutes a day I spend complaining about my boredom and futility. I'm like the old man who came knocking at Uma Joshi's door 60 years ago. Every day of my life I keep asking for this and that and that and that and something better than that. And then one day, I will say goodnight and go to sleep unhappily after complaining about the colour of my bedspread. We all are. But, your life be yours. The Universe has requested me to shut up now, and I plan to oblige.


Random question: If I write Do-Do would you read it as 'dodo'?   .