Yesterday, S said that the fact he drinks 8 to 10 litres of water everyday, much to his doctor’s horror, is his kink. Whenever he is at a loss for something to do or say, he drinks water.
P began to relate the kinkiness of a friend who had a fixed routine every time she left the house. First she switched the gas cylinder off, then lovingly traced the gas pipe’s path to make doubly sure, then switched ON the fan for ‘Bhagwanji‘, and then after locking up the house, banged the door and pulled the lock several times.
S wondered if ‘Bhagwanji’ would not be happier with the AC on. All of us began to conjecture, couldn’t ‘Bhagwanji’ switch on the fan Himself if He wanted to do it, wouldn’t He like to regulate the AC temperature Himself, wouldn’t there be times when He felt cold, and wanted the damn AC or fan off?
Anyway, set me thinking about what my kinkiness was. Could be my endless making of lists – task lists, accounts lists, reminders lists, movies lists, books lists, lists about what happened, lists about the people I met, lists about the people I did not meet, lists about lists.
Of course I don’t remember a word of what I’ve written in them, and that makes me all the more eager to come up with categories of lists I should make, so that I don’t forget anything. Or find it transformed in my imagination into something else. Which is fine by me, but sometimes not fine at all by Dhanno and Teja whose version of things is more rooted in reality.