A mixture of everything

It was a crazy day. Lack of proper sleep thanks to a band photo shoot sort of ruined it initially. But the workplace always brings the smile back to my face. So far, so good, I said.

Then I read the e-mail about the new dress code policy at work. There it was - 't-shirts and shirts have to be tucked in'. I reluctantly tucked my small t-shirt into my already undersized (thanks to the weight that I have put on) jeans. Portliness was showing.

I had to even go check in the mirror how fat I looked. Well 'not fat, healthy,' I said to myself, trying to calm myself. People commented on my portliness. And despite all that, I chose to slice the work day into two with an episode of bingeing on three separate biriyanis.

I had to sort of work faster so as to make it to a rehearsal in time. Yet I reached late by half an hour. Then came the surprise. At the jam pad, I met the bass player who I replaced. He was jamming with the band when I made my way in. Quickly he unplugged his gear and let me plug mine in.

I aksed him 'Hey, howz it going?' and he said 'It's not happening man. They aren't giving me the visa. I am here now.' Then it struck me. Was I eating into his bread? Would the band get him back on board? What will I do, then?

All through the jam, he was there in the jam room, probably carefully analysing what his replacement was doing. Insecurity, self-esteem issues, a feeling of inadequacy - everything was creeping in. I was uncomfortable throughout and fucked up almost every song.

And then it rained. No, it poured. Pre-monsoon showers? Who knows? Anyway, a slice of heaven on earth, but only for those not needing to travel. Once the jam was over, I felt like rushing home and being inside. Safe, comfortable, secure, albeit with a desire to improve and to overcome my insecurities.