If a trustworthy institution (let's face it, basically non-Indian) were to conduct a survey of things that people lose most often, lists would feature in the top few. But have you ever wondered why lists possess this uncanny ability to get lost when you need them the most? It can’t be a coincidence, not every time, not with everybody. And the impression you get is as if these infernal objects have a mind of their own. A scheming, devilish mind, whose only idea of pleasure is the utter bewilderment of its maker.
I remember this one time, a day before I was leaving for Delhi, I made a list of certain essentials to take back home, you know, just a few knick knacks that tend to get forgotten amidst all the chaos of last minute packing. And there this list was, all the last week, peeking at me out of the bottom drawer like an innocent babe. To make a long story short, when I (finally) set out of campus, I was wondering whether I’d ever made such a list. The simple reason being, I couldn’t find it. And take it from me; I went through my room with a toothcomb. At the very least, it was a sight to behold. Debris scattered everywhere, all the hours I’d put into neatly packing my clothes laid to waste, in fact, if the dramatics people had wanted a post-apocalyptic setting there and then, they’d have been more than happy to use my room as such. But all this apparently wasn’t reason enough for a puny list to turn up, and if it didn’t want to be found, it just couldn’t be, could it?
When I got back after a couple months, I opened my drawer to shove my headphones in, and I swear to god and may his hand smite me this very instant if the following be a lie, it was there, staring me in the eye, in all its hellish glory. Lists are a device of the devil, and if you take my advice, you’ll stay away from them and stick to whatever it is that your religion preaches.
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