Goodbye 4GB

Dear Reader

Sometimes posts and themes grow on you like a delicate Henna tattoo. Other times, they grow more like the green culture at the bottom of your hiking shoe. (except in my world there ain't no rhyme or reason for their existence.)

Today's theme, that of many a spiritual seekers' favourite "attachment", falls into the latter category I'm afraid. Which, in plain simple eEnglish means that last night a very precious possession was taken from me and i had to find some way of dealing with it or go into a deep depression.

What could be so precious you ask? My passport? Travellers Cheques? Some family member surely. No, sadly, just a small piece of black plastic, no bigger than my thumb. It's called 4GB and it's still got a hold over me, my thoughts and my past.

B some crazy universal coincidence, just two days before I went to listen to the Dalai Lama speak in Varanasi. And through the crackle of the 89.5FM translation station, I couldn't make out much on his wisdom or the theme of "attachment" save for the phrase "you must become like a piece of wood"... dead. solid. without emotion or need of of anything... but your root system i guess.

So when this incident happened, which started last night with my foolishness and ended this morning with my rage and tears, i was forced to go in search of my withered tap root and from the Dalai Lama's well of wisdom.

You must become like a piece of wood. These were the words i first chose to yell at the monkey who had just torn my 4GB card to shreds. (With the right pitch and intonation anything can sound like the deepest, darkest cussing. Add a woman with wild morning hair and red puffy tear-welled eyes to the mix, and you have "a women's revenge" chasing you across the rooftops.)

I knew it wasn't the monkey's fault. He was being true to his nature. From his rooftop vantage point, just three leaps and a tail swing away, this small black rectangle lying alone on a bigger rooftop square must have sent his logarithms crazy with calculations and curiosity. And when that sun finally broke through that smoggy Varanasi sky, he must have been beside his pink ass to suddenly see three small golden teeth signalling his immediate decent.

Monkey see, monkey do.

Meanwhile, in a room not too far away, another monkey slept on lightly in her bed. She had a similar curious nature to the culprit but this monkey, dear reader, had a far worse trait than this. She was a clumsy fool. That evening prior, on seeing the beautiful full moon, she had decided to invite Mr 4GB to woo her with his visual tales of young love and silk saris, shy chai (tea) sellers and silent sunsets over granite boulders. Her eyes swelled with stories of the past, her heart sunk when she knew even this moment would never last. But this fool, in her dreamy midnight state, left Mr 4GB, alone and unrequited, to the rooftop quarters, only to find him a broken man the next day.


Dear reader, i cannot lie, this morning there was wailing and gnashing of teeth. There was wild tossing of flailing limbs on the bed. There was punching of pillows. After all MR 4GB is a hard man to forget. We shared so many memories together. But no more. It took me a while to remember that I have each one of these moments saved in one other place. a safe place that no-one can get to and nothing can corrupt. And this place I will take with me to my grave.


And when i find myself switching off, dreaming of what i had but lost, i will tell myself this one thing....it's just made of plastic but I'm made of solid wood.