Mind of the Confounded Man

I have often wondered as to how obnoxious a brother I really was to my elder sister, while growing up. I mean if there was a sibling cruelty scale, where would I stand? I imagine quite high. During my summer and winter vacations from my boarding school, I spent considerable time and effort in troubling my sister in many ways; amongst which the most popular one was complaining to my mom about my sister dozing off while studying. In a family, gifted with the ability of being able to sleep off within minutes, my sister was always the superhero: she could have gotten up after a good night's sleep, brushed her teeth, sat with her steaming mug of coffee and her books and head-bangingly dozed off in seconds. In the world of today, with life's stresses, that superpower would be useful but back then it was a massive liability for her, especially during my vacations. As I would arrive at Kolkata station and be tightly hugged by my sister, I would try to decode whether the hug was out of

 "Pick up whatever you feel like and let me sleep!", she said and hung up. I am not much of a drinker and neither is my wife, but at Duty Free shops I have this crazy urge to buy alcohol because I love good deals that help me massage my ego. You would think that as a marketer, used to toying around consumer behavior, I would realize the irrationality of my own habit. Well I don't and this is a perfectly rational behavior in my head. My wife has given up on trying to make me see the absurdity of it but she hasn't given up on her sleep. So when at 3AM, I landed at the Mumbai airport (home to some of the cheapest booze in the world), and took a rational decision of calling my wife to check on what booze I should buy "for her", I soon realized this was a faux pas. While boarding the Uber back home, my mind had already switched to damage control mode: 1.Should I pick up her favorite coffee from Starbucks | At that hour it was suicide 2. Flowers? The only flowers

  My wife and I go for long walks through a silent and serene park to talk and unwind from the day that has been. We have promised not to take our phones on these walks as she especially treasures the peace and calm of the surroundings. Overall it is therapeutic and helps us cope with the times. That day the walk started a bit hurriedly, perhaps a desperate attempt by me to escape one of those bad days at work. In my hurry, I forgot to leave my phone behind so the promise shifted to not using it.  As we strolled through the calming silence of the park, I complained about life and people. My dear wife, who loves me to bits and wouldn't let any emotional harm ever come to me, ran her hand gently through my hair and said, "You know they are wrong" . Felt better. Just then I got a group video call from my parents and sister. Now we are a regular Bengali family whose cacophony would overpower the calm of the surroundings that we were in. I wanted to generally complain about th

  The other day I stared into the mirror looking at my receding hairline and feeling I could have done with some better genes and some better hair maybe? But then I stopped and shut my eyes... One thought led to the other and took me down a rabbit hole of time, back many years, to that barber on my street who used to give me a cut for Rs.11/-. The barber's shop wasn't very big and had room for a tiny bench behind the cutting chair, where his customers patiently waited their turn. Seated on that bench, there were only 2 interesting views to be had: one of the sunlight darting in through the little entry door that spot lit the dance of dust particles in the shop; and the other being the back head of the customer who was getting the haircut. For the customer getting the haircut, however, there was unfortunately not much of an option in terms of views: at best he could stay entertained with the snipping tune of the scissors and the banter of the barber and the bench guys. During on