Distractions

Last night I decided to remove all noisy distraction in my room and sleep with my AC and air purifier off. I opened a window, so I would hear mayhem, if there was any, before our security would come to whisk me away. This time I would be prepared, and not in my nightie. But all was quiet and also very hot. At about 11 PM I closed the window and started the AC. After that I slept well and in the morning all was quiet.

I asked the guards why, when I came home over an hour after the fighting had started the night before, had they not mentioned anything to me. The answer was simple, they had not wanted to upset me and make me worry. It is their approach to protecting me.

They figured Axel would have called me (he did indeed) and were anxious for me to convey their best wishes. Life goes on and they keep missing him, not quite the same way I do, but missing nevertheless.

At work, my team and I are in a race against time to get everything, brochures, posters, banners for the conference on Sunday, printed in time, considering that the weekend for the ministry starts tomorrow afternoon and the printers close Thursday afternoon. The printed invitations didn’t arrive as promised – I should have known – and so people will get their invitations two workdays before the event instead of the planned week.

Our champion in the ministry, I found out, will be boarding a plane in Delhi just about the time he was supposed to give the speech I wrote for him. This is a huge disappointment although we knew the risk was there all along. We are one of many shows and side shows in town and the critical things in one person’s universe are not the same as those in my universe. It was for his sake that we changed the date of the event. I try to keep my cool. A deliberate shrugging of my shoulders felt slightly therapeutic.

Back home I settled in front of the TV and watched with great fascination the committee hearings on the BBC about the phone hacking scandal. Especially the interrogation of the Murdochs was as good as a detective movie. This peek behind the curtain of a big news empire and watching this father and son duo perform kept me totally engrossed. I think living in Afghanistan is less painful than what the Murdochs are going through.

And then it got really exciting when a man with a Boston cream pie or platter with foam went for Murdoch senior and we could all see his young pink-clad wife pull a swift right hook and, though off camera but reported on Twitter, threw the plate right back.

The viewers got to see the results of this through the plate glass windows as the perpetrator and the police were busy wiping the white stuff off their faces. That was the best distraction of all and from our troubles here.

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