Bob is juxtaposed, half asleep. He has
battled daytime dust by taking baths a few times in the evening. Laying a fresh
now, and half sleepy, he has been intermittently alerted by persistent honking from
incoming chartered boats. Having taken up a decently paid job in an alternate
profession Bob the lighthouse keeper, a rookie now, also has to organize
incoming boats, make sure they are lined in their allocated bays, and are
anchored to the bollards. He uses his neck hanging whistle and directs incoming
boats to be parked with waving and pointing of his hands, sometimes both hands.
He finds this new job a little irritating, for he doesn’t like to be disturbed
much. The customary hellos with the visitors at the dockyard who like to keep
within themselves aren’t fully satisfying either.
Bob will prefer to spend most of his time lying
in his sleeping bed which is placed in the centre of the room. The minimal room
otherwise has a carpet, a bookshelf and a couple of suitcases which also serve
as wardrobe cabinet. The other rooms in the lighthouse are a compulsory
bathroom, and a kitchen with half unused cabinets, a cooking gas, a dining
table and some chairs. There are no wall hangings, artefacts or posters in this
lighthouse accommodation, except for a wall calendar of a mini scooter selling company
which has all the months hence dates of the year and a silhouette figurine
graphic of a popular movies actress playing guitar sitting on the scooter,
except a solitary guitar occasionally played, except a laptop bag, and except books
and magazines mostly read lying about. The essential basic items which a single
man needs for daily living don’t matter much, for Bob is juxtaposed; he is half
asleep.
