Waking up in someone else's bed
Inspite of the slightly dodgy title, I have no intention of writing anything remotely romantic or spicy, so this would be a good time to realign your expectations. Its just that after sleeping over at a friend's place this Saturday, it came to me how much I enjoyed waking up to a new surrounding than the familiar view of my own room. I don't think its the most natural thing to feel this way. I am sure most of my friends and relatives go to a lot of pains to make sure they get back home at night. I know a few people who swear that they cant go to sleep anywhere instead of their own bed. I have had friends who have stubbornly insisted on driving 25 km to home at 1 or 2 in the night instead of staying over. And no I don't snore so thats definitely not an explanation. I guess most people are like birds - they want to get back to their nest after dark but then may be birds do that because they don't really have an option of staying over in a motel or at a relatives'.
But me, I just love spending my night away from home. I seem to get a deeper sleep in an unfamiliar bed. I have fewer incidents of waking up to a bad dream. I invariably sleep less and wake up more refreshed. I like it even better when I wake up. As my eyes open and my brain reconcile to different surrounding, I feel a sense of adventure. Something that doesn't happen everyday. I dearly love the different way in which the morning light fills the room. The different noises that filter through - sometimes its the heavy traffic on the road, sometimes the over enthusiastic maid going about her morning chores, news headlines from the TV, even someone putting on Bhajans or romantic Ghazals on CD player. I feel good getting up, folding my bedding in case I am in mood, or leaving it for my poor friend who had sheltered me.
Till a couple of years back my favorite night haunt used to be a friends place, who was my batchmate in college. As it turned out his rented place was quite near to my office but I don't think that really mattered. He lived on the first floor of a decently sized house with his younger brother, who happened to be working in my office and another friend who was in his office. There was also another common friend who lived on the second floor of the house with his two sisters. This friend also happened to be our batchmate in college, worked for the same company as me, and used to live downstairs before his sisters moved into the same city.
Well amidst all this confusion the point I am trying to make is that I was related to the house in more ways than one and felt quite comfortable with everyone there . Infact I am not even sure whom I started visiting initally, my first batchmate or the second one who was also my peer at office. But pretty soon, I was in more endearing terms with my batchmate's colleague, who I hadn't known earlier but who shared my interest in ghazals and classical music. Pretty soon I was staying over atleast once a week. I would get there after work and would usually be the last. We would sit in the living room in front of TV, call the one living upstairs, and chat for hours. Our favorite source of entertainment was to listen to the one living upstairs talk about his numerous encounters with his female colleagues and his boss. The encounters were no different than what happens with everyone in a day's work, but his take on the whole thing and his detailed narration of all the events, supplemented with thousands of circumstantial evidences, made the stories a must hear for everyone. I used to sleep in the living room initially but then I had started putting my bedding in my new friend's room, because we loved talking and hearing to latest collection of Ghazals as we slept.
Often I was the last one to wake up, but that too would be quite early compared to my usual routine. The first thing I used to do was to to get to my favorite part of the house - the huge balcony. I loved that balcony, I had spent countless hours sitting on the narrow ledge looking at the few trees that were planted below, observing the people as they passed on rickshaws, cars, buses or simply on foot. It was a fairly busy road and even early in the morning there would be a fair amount of traffic. Usually I hate traffic, but looking at it from above was different. I was not a part of it, stuck in it. Rather I was just an observer sitting on the ledge just like that crow sitting on a branch of the nearby tree. Even on that narrow ledge I managed to sit comfortably enough with my legs stretched out together in front of me, my weight balanced a little bit away from the 20 feet fall. It used to make my friends nervous but then they got used to it. My friend used to make tea for me, this was something he never missed, and I never offered to do it instead, even once. He would take a chair and we will sip the tea in early morning sun. If it was a weekday, we will all go to office one by one, otherwise I would stay a little longer, sometimes even till lunch.
They shifted to their own apartments, which is quite far away now, closer to their new office. The new place is quite far away from all the hustle bustle of a city, but I still continue to go over once in a while. I like the quiet surroundings but I miss the balcony. Its very small and there isn't anything to see below. Now their place wasn't the only one that I used to sleep around. Their is another batchmate and now colleague who didn't mind letting me stay at his place whenever we had to go for an early morning cricket practice. "Didn't mind", I have chosen my words carefully, for I don't think he was ever excited at my visit. But then he never gets excited at anything. He is the most simple person you are ever likely to meet. I am avoiding the term boring even when to most people he would seem that, but I used to feel comfortable with him. We never talked much and it never seemed necessary. His rented two room apartment reflected his simplicity. There was no furniture of any kind, no show-pieces - I am sure he could have easily left the house unlocked coz there wasn't anything to steal. He only had what he needed - and all he needed was a pair of clothes, a bedding, one pair of old shoes, few kitchen items. TV was the only thing valuable in the house which otherwise looked like an empty apartment. I actually liked the emptiness, there was so much space to move around. We could have easily played cricket inside with all the space and nothing to break. I don't remember if we ever did. There were a lot of books though, stacked one on top of other and he used to read a lot. There was a huge terrace in front of the rooms that I really liked. I paced to and fro, for hours, talking on phone to someone or simply gazed at the stars. In the morning we used to get up at 5 in the morning, when it was still dark and make our way towards the stadium. Those were the few times I saw the sun rising and each of them is a wonderful memory.
In the initial years of my office, I became friends with a new colleague. Besides from the fact that he looked as thin as I do, we had little in common. He kept everything organized at home, was sincere at his work, always looking for ways to help others, always bought gifts for everyone when he visited home and was popular with everyone at work and home. And I don't think he ever played any sport or went traveling in his life. But we did share a common interest and, most of the times, taste of movies and were perfect company for each other. Since we saw the night show most of the time, and he lived alone, I used to stay back at his place after the movie. For a bachelors place, his house was always too clean and organized. Coming back from the movie, we would talk and watch TV till late in the night. He was always worried about making me feel comfortable. He would try to get me to change into his pajamas, would take out new bedsheets, and worry about whether it was too cold or hot in the room. I always tried to convince him that I didn't need much to get comfortable. I always slept in my jeans. In the morning he would try to make a breakfast, but I was fresh out of college and not used to having breakfast in those days. We spent a lot of time together, saw uncountable movies, shared a few secrets, sought advice on problems. I am not sure if we were good friends at that time. Looking back, I think he was too nice to be my friend really. Not that I was the worst person on earth, but I was more concerned about immediate fun than long term plans. Like a responsible son, he got married at an age, when I wasn't sure if it was even legal. Seeing him with his wife at the wedding, the thought of child marriage kept coming in my mind, but before long he had a lovely baby girl of his own. Needless to say, he got too busy, and since our world were a lot different now, we hardly met any more.
So it was a pleasant surprise to bump into him at office after a long time. We started to talk and he told me that his wife and kid were away for a week. We decided to meet in the weekend and I ended up driving towards his home on Saturday night after a dinner with another friend. Even with the wife missing, his home was as clean and tidy. No scattered newspapers, no sign of any shoes, nothing on the table, all bedsheets and blankets folded tidily - it was difficult to imagine that someone actually lived there. On a typical day, on my bed you would found atleast following items - a pillow, bedsheet or blanket or quilt or all of them, my laptop, internet modem, my office bag, 4-5 books, couple of CDs, few clothes, a bottle of water, some eatables and a few other things I am expecting to be useful in near future. He had a rocking chair in his living room and I was quick to plant myself on it. To and fro, I went, and we talked. We talked about his family, about office, about colleagues, about gossips. We talked about my marriage plans, when you are single at 30, it would be a wonder if anyone doesn't raise the subject of your marriage. He tried his best to convince me the virtues of a married life, but by now I am an expert at fending off all such arguments. Now as I remember, I am amazed that we didn't talk about cricket. What sort of Indians are we - but then he never had an iota of interest in sports of any kind. Before I realized, it was 2 in the morning. Its not an unusual thing for me to be awake at that time, but he is an early sleeper, and so we shifted to the bedroom. He took out a pair of shorts for me, but I felt too lazy to change. He put a new blanket for me but the room was already too warm.
As I opened my eyes in the morning, I realized that I was not in my own bed. I had drifted to sleep rather quickly at night, and had an undisturbed sleep. I felt fresh. I checked the time on my mobile, it was only 8, but I didn't feel like sleeping anymore. The other side of bed was already empty. I got up and went to the living room to find him reading the newspaper. I borrowed some pages and again occupied the rocking chair - I think I will get one for my room as well. I was also just in time to see the first ball of the India - Australia match being bowled. We saw Indian bowlers getting hammered all over the park but I was the only one whose hurt was getting broken into pieces. Not able to take it anymore, I suggested we go to a nearby place for a South Indian breakfast. He wanted to take the car, but I was feeling energetic and somehow convinced him to walk instead. Mind you it isn't as easy to convince people to walk nowadays. The Dosa was lovely and I couldn't stop myself from ordering a plate of Idli, so by the end I was so full that I was glad we were walking. We had booked movie tickets for the afternoon show. When it was finally time to say good-bye, I felt happy about the day. It was nice to revive an old friendship but I also knew that pretty soon his family would be back and he would be too busy again.
But me, I just love spending my night away from home. I seem to get a deeper sleep in an unfamiliar bed. I have fewer incidents of waking up to a bad dream. I invariably sleep less and wake up more refreshed. I like it even better when I wake up. As my eyes open and my brain reconcile to different surrounding, I feel a sense of adventure. Something that doesn't happen everyday. I dearly love the different way in which the morning light fills the room. The different noises that filter through - sometimes its the heavy traffic on the road, sometimes the over enthusiastic maid going about her morning chores, news headlines from the TV, even someone putting on Bhajans or romantic Ghazals on CD player. I feel good getting up, folding my bedding in case I am in mood, or leaving it for my poor friend who had sheltered me.
Till a couple of years back my favorite night haunt used to be a friends place, who was my batchmate in college. As it turned out his rented place was quite near to my office but I don't think that really mattered. He lived on the first floor of a decently sized house with his younger brother, who happened to be working in my office and another friend who was in his office. There was also another common friend who lived on the second floor of the house with his two sisters. This friend also happened to be our batchmate in college, worked for the same company as me, and used to live downstairs before his sisters moved into the same city.
Well amidst all this confusion the point I am trying to make is that I was related to the house in more ways than one and felt quite comfortable with everyone there . Infact I am not even sure whom I started visiting initally, my first batchmate or the second one who was also my peer at office. But pretty soon, I was in more endearing terms with my batchmate's colleague, who I hadn't known earlier but who shared my interest in ghazals and classical music. Pretty soon I was staying over atleast once a week. I would get there after work and would usually be the last. We would sit in the living room in front of TV, call the one living upstairs, and chat for hours. Our favorite source of entertainment was to listen to the one living upstairs talk about his numerous encounters with his female colleagues and his boss. The encounters were no different than what happens with everyone in a day's work, but his take on the whole thing and his detailed narration of all the events, supplemented with thousands of circumstantial evidences, made the stories a must hear for everyone. I used to sleep in the living room initially but then I had started putting my bedding in my new friend's room, because we loved talking and hearing to latest collection of Ghazals as we slept.
Often I was the last one to wake up, but that too would be quite early compared to my usual routine. The first thing I used to do was to to get to my favorite part of the house - the huge balcony. I loved that balcony, I had spent countless hours sitting on the narrow ledge looking at the few trees that were planted below, observing the people as they passed on rickshaws, cars, buses or simply on foot. It was a fairly busy road and even early in the morning there would be a fair amount of traffic. Usually I hate traffic, but looking at it from above was different. I was not a part of it, stuck in it. Rather I was just an observer sitting on the ledge just like that crow sitting on a branch of the nearby tree. Even on that narrow ledge I managed to sit comfortably enough with my legs stretched out together in front of me, my weight balanced a little bit away from the 20 feet fall. It used to make my friends nervous but then they got used to it. My friend used to make tea for me, this was something he never missed, and I never offered to do it instead, even once. He would take a chair and we will sip the tea in early morning sun. If it was a weekday, we will all go to office one by one, otherwise I would stay a little longer, sometimes even till lunch.
They shifted to their own apartments, which is quite far away now, closer to their new office. The new place is quite far away from all the hustle bustle of a city, but I still continue to go over once in a while. I like the quiet surroundings but I miss the balcony. Its very small and there isn't anything to see below. Now their place wasn't the only one that I used to sleep around. Their is another batchmate and now colleague who didn't mind letting me stay at his place whenever we had to go for an early morning cricket practice. "Didn't mind", I have chosen my words carefully, for I don't think he was ever excited at my visit. But then he never gets excited at anything. He is the most simple person you are ever likely to meet. I am avoiding the term boring even when to most people he would seem that, but I used to feel comfortable with him. We never talked much and it never seemed necessary. His rented two room apartment reflected his simplicity. There was no furniture of any kind, no show-pieces - I am sure he could have easily left the house unlocked coz there wasn't anything to steal. He only had what he needed - and all he needed was a pair of clothes, a bedding, one pair of old shoes, few kitchen items. TV was the only thing valuable in the house which otherwise looked like an empty apartment. I actually liked the emptiness, there was so much space to move around. We could have easily played cricket inside with all the space and nothing to break. I don't remember if we ever did. There were a lot of books though, stacked one on top of other and he used to read a lot. There was a huge terrace in front of the rooms that I really liked. I paced to and fro, for hours, talking on phone to someone or simply gazed at the stars. In the morning we used to get up at 5 in the morning, when it was still dark and make our way towards the stadium. Those were the few times I saw the sun rising and each of them is a wonderful memory.
In the initial years of my office, I became friends with a new colleague. Besides from the fact that he looked as thin as I do, we had little in common. He kept everything organized at home, was sincere at his work, always looking for ways to help others, always bought gifts for everyone when he visited home and was popular with everyone at work and home. And I don't think he ever played any sport or went traveling in his life. But we did share a common interest and, most of the times, taste of movies and were perfect company for each other. Since we saw the night show most of the time, and he lived alone, I used to stay back at his place after the movie. For a bachelors place, his house was always too clean and organized. Coming back from the movie, we would talk and watch TV till late in the night. He was always worried about making me feel comfortable. He would try to get me to change into his pajamas, would take out new bedsheets, and worry about whether it was too cold or hot in the room. I always tried to convince him that I didn't need much to get comfortable. I always slept in my jeans. In the morning he would try to make a breakfast, but I was fresh out of college and not used to having breakfast in those days. We spent a lot of time together, saw uncountable movies, shared a few secrets, sought advice on problems. I am not sure if we were good friends at that time. Looking back, I think he was too nice to be my friend really. Not that I was the worst person on earth, but I was more concerned about immediate fun than long term plans. Like a responsible son, he got married at an age, when I wasn't sure if it was even legal. Seeing him with his wife at the wedding, the thought of child marriage kept coming in my mind, but before long he had a lovely baby girl of his own. Needless to say, he got too busy, and since our world were a lot different now, we hardly met any more.
So it was a pleasant surprise to bump into him at office after a long time. We started to talk and he told me that his wife and kid were away for a week. We decided to meet in the weekend and I ended up driving towards his home on Saturday night after a dinner with another friend. Even with the wife missing, his home was as clean and tidy. No scattered newspapers, no sign of any shoes, nothing on the table, all bedsheets and blankets folded tidily - it was difficult to imagine that someone actually lived there. On a typical day, on my bed you would found atleast following items - a pillow, bedsheet or blanket or quilt or all of them, my laptop, internet modem, my office bag, 4-5 books, couple of CDs, few clothes, a bottle of water, some eatables and a few other things I am expecting to be useful in near future. He had a rocking chair in his living room and I was quick to plant myself on it. To and fro, I went, and we talked. We talked about his family, about office, about colleagues, about gossips. We talked about my marriage plans, when you are single at 30, it would be a wonder if anyone doesn't raise the subject of your marriage. He tried his best to convince me the virtues of a married life, but by now I am an expert at fending off all such arguments. Now as I remember, I am amazed that we didn't talk about cricket. What sort of Indians are we - but then he never had an iota of interest in sports of any kind. Before I realized, it was 2 in the morning. Its not an unusual thing for me to be awake at that time, but he is an early sleeper, and so we shifted to the bedroom. He took out a pair of shorts for me, but I felt too lazy to change. He put a new blanket for me but the room was already too warm.
As I opened my eyes in the morning, I realized that I was not in my own bed. I had drifted to sleep rather quickly at night, and had an undisturbed sleep. I felt fresh. I checked the time on my mobile, it was only 8, but I didn't feel like sleeping anymore. The other side of bed was already empty. I got up and went to the living room to find him reading the newspaper. I borrowed some pages and again occupied the rocking chair - I think I will get one for my room as well. I was also just in time to see the first ball of the India - Australia match being bowled. We saw Indian bowlers getting hammered all over the park but I was the only one whose hurt was getting broken into pieces. Not able to take it anymore, I suggested we go to a nearby place for a South Indian breakfast. He wanted to take the car, but I was feeling energetic and somehow convinced him to walk instead. Mind you it isn't as easy to convince people to walk nowadays. The Dosa was lovely and I couldn't stop myself from ordering a plate of Idli, so by the end I was so full that I was glad we were walking. We had booked movie tickets for the afternoon show. When it was finally time to say good-bye, I felt happy about the day. It was nice to revive an old friendship but I also knew that pretty soon his family would be back and he would be too busy again.
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