No Direction Home

While we are all vaguely familiar with concepts like night blindness and colour blindness, (road) direction blindness syndrome hasn't got much attention. After having closely experienced this for years, I would like to offer this piece as a cathartic reading experience for those who suffer from this syndrome.

All my near and dear ones and some observant acquaintances know that it is an understatement if I say that 'I suck at giving and receiving directions to places'. Giving directions to a particular place has proven to be much less challenging than receiving. My friends almost consider it a miraculous and stupendous occasion if I manage to reach their place without getting misplaced or without a few frantic and harried calls.

This problem became acute recently when I moved to my new house in Bandra last week Sunday. So initially when I repeatedly roamed around the entire complex and asked three to four good souls for directions to my own house, I comforted myself with the idea that my new house was indeed in the loving arms of a pan's labyrinth. However, the friend who has been staying with me took exactly one day to figure out how to easily get home after a hard day's work.

I have been exploiting with my limited directions skills (due to my syndrome) for almost a week now. I have memorized, noted, marked various landmarks when the auto guy is taking me to the station from home and everyday I pleasantly smile to myself thinking that finally I would be able to have a peaceful and smooth ride back home. Every time, every fucking time, I get confused about the "right turn" and even if I somehow managed to take the "correct right turn" and cross everything that looks familiar including my landmarks (which are various boards for 'Coloron',three-four boards which all point towards 'Rizvi Complex', a cigarette shop which looks 'familiar', a few neighborhood buildings whose names are highly confusing).

But then just when I think that the battle is won and I can proudly hoist an imaginary little victory flag on the roof of my auto, I am lost. Fucking hell. Lost again. Fuck. Then I have to either ask people around, or sometimes, when I feel extra clever, I make the auto guy roam around in circles two-three times (and pay him a bomb!) till I can finally manage to crack a way to be back home.

Tonight is going to be my ninth night in the new house, and I am going to constantly work on tackling my direction blindness syndrome. Amen. So for those who suffer from this syndrome, we will see the "light of the day" my friends. One day, we will.

Title courtesy: Scorsese's docu on Bob Dylan