Everything happens on its own

I am not sure if many would care much about this post. But after all, this is my blog, my diary. A few years down the line in some other country when I open this web page and I don't find this particular post I'd be really disappointed.

Something amazing just happened to me.

The phone in my beige corduroys pocket buzzed, accompanied with a 'ancient telephone' ring. Three irritating rings later, "Hello," I said in a weak tone. The slight fever for the past three days has been really annoying me... it breaks the entire flow in routine or consistency in doing things.
"Rohit?" the familiar voice spoke.
"Yeah..."
"I am calling from Qatar Airways, with regard to the ticket you booked for your flight back to New Delhi."
"Ticket? What ticket? I didn't book no ticket?"
"Uh..."
"Christopher, I'll kick your butt," I said. Christopher is a 41-year-old sports journalist in the same publication I work for here.
He laughed.
"You drunk?" I joked.
"No, No, I am not drunk. I heard you're shifting in to Abhay's apartment."
Abhay is a very very cool Mumbaiya. Works as a senior sub-editor (same publication), married, has a three-four-year-old daughter, and has a huge apartment. Christopher and John, another guy on the sports desk, share his apartment. It has four bedrooms so everyone has their own. Dirt cheap. Fully firnished. It's a steal.
"Uh, Christopher are you drunk?"
"No man. I just heard you're shifting in."
"Shut up ya. Where did you hear this crap from?"
"Anyway, fuck all this, you're shifting in. You're hearing it from me."
"Uh, and John...?"
"John's wife is landing in Qatar next week, so he's found a new apartment. One room's free," he said.
"Wooooooohooooooooo. Oye Hoye, Oh balle balle... Oh bhangra. Oh dhin chak. Oye hoye."

Let me tell you why I'm so happy. I'm paying QR 1500 for the apartment I stay in, sharing with another person, who though has his own room and stuff, but still i am paying 1500, which is considered way too much to pay as rent for a bachelor. After all, the point to be in Qatar is to save as much as you can.

Whereas, in Abhay's apartment, staying with people who I like (a little), people who stock up their house with 'Madira' (there is a major reason for using this term which I cannot disclose), and most importantly, the rent's just about QR 700.

I was told by several that I was paying too much for rent, but I am not the kind who'd stay with four or five strangers, even though with separate rooms, in the same house. Especially the friggin mallus you find everywhere out here, whose houses smell like coconut.

But after paying 1500 for two months, I was just this morning wondering that I'm really paying that amount just to sleep at night. That's really all I go back home for. No point, right?

Now I can save so much more man.

At least 3000 bucks a month, which, if converted, is Rs 40,000 a month.

You know what this means. I am much much much closer to my beach shack - my dream - in Goa. To top it all, I would have begun running towards it. I always knew for the past couple of years that's where I'm gonna be. but really never thought all of it would seem possible so soon.

What did I do? What effort did I make?

La... Nothing. Zilch.

When you surrender yourself to the ride, someone out there looks your way and smiles. It's my belief. And by Christ, I smile back.

It's time to pack, yet again. It's time to move, yet again. It's time to mix with another set of people, yet again.

The ride goes on...