Excess energy is one of those euphemistic oxymorons like enough money. Or spare time. Like what do you mean by spare ? Is there such a thing ? I hear bachelors (and bachelorettes) moan about not having enough time. And I’m thinking, honey wait till you have a spouse and kids, and a home and work, and kid’s extra-curricular activities, and the desi baggage of imparting “culture” to your kids, and a social life to maintain (I mean I’d like to be a hermit, but can’t expect the kids to cut off all human contact, can I ?), and then you tell me about not having “enough” time.

Eons back, in Hindi class in school, I remember having a chapter named “Anuj ko patra” or something similar; some famous man writing to his younger brother advising him on how to live a good life, etc. Man, that generation was always so moralistic. Anyway, he (the writer) says that he sleeps for only 4 hours a night, and then I remember the Hindi teacher asking us all if that was a good idea. And I remember us all shaking our heads solemnly – not a good idea. Now, though (with not having enough time and all) it seemed good enough to try out. Tried it for a a while, but I’m off it now, because all it did for me, was make me doze off in meetings at work, and leave under-eye circles so deep, American eagles could roost there.

Did anyone ever tell you that there would be a time when you could be sucked clean of energy ? All of it. Like, if you took a vaccum cleaner specifically made for this purpose, and vaccummed your insides, there wouldn’t be a speck of it anywhere ? I watch my son bound across the room. Not run, not walk, BOUND. He takes little jumps, and hop, skip and jump, and he’s across the room. Now if I had that kind of energy, and didn’t collapse from sheer exhaustion at the end of it all, I would me thinks, be rail-thin. It’s like on of those torture excercises the fitness instructor puts you through – “Now, girls ! Bunny-hop across the room !”

And enough money – when is it ever enough ? Me, I’m a girl of simple tastes. All I want (in terms of material comfort) are about a hundred pairs of shoes (and enough closet space to hold them all, neatly, pair by pair, on pull-out cedar shelves – yup I dream in detail), lots of good books, and a mansion to read them in. And since one would slowly die if kept away from films and Shahrukh Khan, one would need a 60 inch, plasma TV. And ofcourse the other neccesity a car – a swanky 300 horsepower roadster would suit my basic needs (and the kids would be delighted !).

As I said, I’m a girl of simple tastes.

A large, shiny rock(s) on my finger wouldn’t hurt either.