Doraemon don’t know
I
cannot remember the last time I had a decent amount of sleep. It must have been
weeks now. It’s probably been days. When you're constantly sleep-deprived, your
memory degrades. This affects your perception of time. It is no longer this
regular interval thing. It contracts and stretches. Your feel for hours and
minutes dampens, your hold on reality becomes a little bit loose. You start
having conversations with inanimate objects.
"That's
ridiculous."
"I
know."
"You
should get more sleep."
"Totally
agree with you."
"So
what's the problem dude?"
"I
don't know, Doraemon. I don't know."
There's
no use explaining to Doraemon further. His hard plastic self cannot go past
basic stuff. Doraemon does not know love, he does not know what it means to
'pine' for someone. Doraemon has trouble understanding the concept of solitude.
His is a flat existence devoid of all color and depth. I don't tell him this,
might hurt his hard plastic heart.
Doraemon
was given to me by the Girl. The Girl, it should be declared outright is not a
love interest. We met in college, we were classmates in this literature class.
It was World Literature, and the object of love and admiration here was the
instructor. She was this super charming and funny petite lady. And she does
this all so casually, being all charming and endearing. It motivated me so
much, just being in that class I read all the assigned works in three or so
days. I came out of my shell slowly in order to show her my knowledge of the
material, to show her I appreciate her. To show how serious I am about all this
stuff. The Girl sat at the seat to my very right the whole semester.
The
Girl approached me one day while I was outside the room waiting for the class
to start. I was just leaning on the balustrade looking all cool and suave, when
my shoulder got slapped. I turned to look at the offending party, and it was
The Girl all smiling. "What's up, yo," she said.
"Nothing
much."
"D'ya
read that story?"
"Yeah.
It was okay." I really liked it.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"I
thought it was too depressing." She said this, smiling.
"Yeah?"
"Yesh."
She
doesn't like depressing and sad stuff, she explained. Life is too short to
worry about the sad things. Sad things, she doesn't like.
She
likes happy things. Fairytales and comedy and songs. This girl is a rocker
girl, she writes lyrics, plays the guitar. Tells me she's also studying the
piano, played the keyboards since she was a child. Twinkle, twinkle little
star, then the national anthem, then some religious stuff, then she progressed
to the darker varieties of rock and roll in her early teens. Rock music doesn't
have to be all dark and depressing, she claimed. She's going to revolutionize
the whole industry, she told me. Just wait and see.
One
of her favorite bands is the Japanese alt-goth post-rock all-girl band called
Short. Short’s members are all in high school and they don’t sing and dance,
and do all those stupid things girl groups do these days. They are a bona fide
rocker girl group. One of the songs of Short is about Doraemon. To those who
don’t know, Doraemon is a cartoon character. He is a robot cat and he is the
friend of Nobita, who is this kind of a challenged child but who is ultimately
good at heart. Well, Doraemon helps Nobita overcome the latter’s problems, like
difficult school work, doing household chores, etc. It’s all fun and games,
until Doraemon, the lovable chubby robo-kitty goes berserk and commits all
sorts of heinous act on the unsuspecting Nobita. Well, that’s the Short version
of events.
It’s
how the story goes in their song ‘Doraemon don’t know.’ So at the turn of the
year 2000, some computer glitch got activated in Doraemon’s brain. He is
sitting there in Nobita’s room, just waiting for Nobita to come in from school.
The song is really just this list of the horrible things Doraemon does to
Nobita.
“But
Short don’t sing d’ya see?”
“I
see.”
“So
ask me how we know the story if they don’t sing it in their song.”
“Tell
me.”
“Please.”
“Please.”
They
have this older guy, middle-aged, a salary man, complete with lower corporate
attire, as a backup singer. Shouter, more like. His role is to stand there on
the right side of the band, a little bit, almost at the edge of the stage and
recite the lyrics. For all the absurdity of his role, he actually has a good
voice. Short just provides background music.
The
Girl and I became friends as the semester went by. I walked with her to her
college where she had most of her classes. The University is filled with trees,
and we noticed how some have started to flower, and the flowers bloomed. So
much pollen everywhere I had allergies the entire time. Finally, they started
falling, and whenever the breeze was strong the flowers would fall and they
were these bright yellow tiny flowers, and we walked under them as the trees
lined the main path that circuits the entire University.
