(As the title suggests, this is a random short piece that has no reason, moral or even a story)
There is a really
beautiful woman in a white kurta standing with an ugly old hag, perpendicular
to my line of vision, wuhu… they are talking some non sense about some money
transfer, I wonder why they are discussing money so formally. Is money that
formal an entity, can one not do anything without money? I have a 20 buck note
in my wallet today and I am content, it promises me a bus ride home and hardly
anything else. That shitty one room apartment perched between the ground floor,
which hosts a crappy restaurant run by the landlord’s loser son, and the upper
floor where the loser lives with his drunken father, innocent mother and an
abusive sister. Having travelled home, mentally, I am now back in the same
conscious state that I was in when I started typing on my tiny keyboard, and I
now see that woman sitting on the couch across the room fiddling with the locks
falling around her face. I wonder again, has she taken a note of my eyes
turning and relishing what it sees.
The old woman has
lured her into her trap and brought her closer to herself. Her phone has been
ringing for the past few seconds; it felt closer to a couple of minutes or
more. She glides out of the room and I take quite some time to realize…
OH GOD, SPARE ME!!!
The devil himself
would be a lesser trouble to handle than this.
Behold! The Slouch
King, the Lazy Lord, of the realm of boredom has walked into the room and is
now sitting beside me shamelessly with his clothes falling off his butter
hands. His bag, a disaster, and he proclaims he has been everywhere and done
everything damn thing, right from banging 60 women over a period of two months
to teaching Europeans “How Indians Drink!” (he shouts at times, I am not really
Indian I was born in Austria). Yet he is a nice person, who shares his lunch
with wankers like me!
Four hours later
Swallowing lunch
like a glutton, oily choley-bhature, on a flimsy paper plate, fighting for the
laptops to be positioned away from the food, I tried to let the laptops remain
where they were, but I failed with no remorse. We were a few minutes off
schedule. Wafia ran down the ramp for no reason, and it still is a process too
complicated to explain. She passed me a mint gum before we left for the
appointment we were running late on. The mint gum drove away the odour of the
spices in the choley, it seemed like spearmint but it was not really spearmint,
it was a gum too complicated to explain too. She seemed Russian to me and a
certain friend of mine when we had joined the university, our observatory (and,
or physiognomy)skills weren’t strong enough probably. She told me that the
office that we were sitting in has two air conditioners which is enough to
cover an area twice the size of the area of the room. This is how random she
gets usually, as a matter of fact one of the most random people I know.
Such a wonderful
time we had with the “big guy” in his office, under the roof that harbours the
administrative section of the university. His interview seemed in no way
formal, perfect for the blog, that I am sharing the work of with Wafia. “HE”
also made the group photo seem like a family portrait.
A meeting was
scheduled at 3 pm, and when it commenced it looked like a random mob meeting
under compulsion, everyone seemed to be busy, but I really couldn’t see the
work that they were apparently doing. Time now to put an end to this nonsense.
