The morning after

August 21, 2009 § 3 Comments

I slept soon after writing that depressing post last night and intimating Disha (who had sweetly asked me to not be an ass and continue blogging) about the addition. Negativism characteristically dispirits me. Couldn’t bear to push my few readers through the same too.

So probably after a huge sense of guilt, I woke up at 4 in the morning. Partly also because I felt something brushing against my right hand which I think was royally twirled over my head beyond the bed post and almost touching the floor. Sudden panic is so not good at that hour in the morning, worse when you’re sick and in much-desired deep sleep. The sudden jerky motion that brought the top half of my body ninety degrees closer to the bottom could partially be regarded to the rat infestation in our house for the last few days. As much as I find these creatures cute for all visual purposes, I have no love to rear and nurture and feed the pests. We (hereafter referring to me [@nitinsgr] and my flat mate Nithin K D [@nithinkd]) had managed to catch four of the family with about a quarter of a Parle G in the space of one night. I had no clue about KD’s awesome creativity when it came to murder (too). He lit a smoky fire in an unused earthen pot, kept the catch in the cage over its face, and covered it all with a cloth. Painlessly asphyxiated with a little carbon monoxide. There are about half a dozen more to be caught and executed in similar or smarter fashion. Will keep you posted.

So this friend calls up very early in the morning, having just returned from a Sufi music night, and a shade too moved to sleep. Few minutes into the conversation and I figured (or she confessed) that she was a little horny after the experience and needed some incitement. Okay. I like this new job. Though I remember I conveniently killed her desires talking about my running nose and phlegm and grey cough. Sorry about that girl. Some other time may be.

Also met @ambikajoshi after a gap of two years. She’s grown fabulously hotter and prettier, except for the fact that her getup makes no bones about her being a mixed South Indian. I think somewhere along the long conversation I mentioned her coming across as partly lesbian. And I still think she has the coolest parents ever.

Mamta, my cook has been barging in and out while I’ve been trying to write cribbing about their being no aata in the house for paranthas. She’s the most unsentimental woman I’m likely to meet. None of my jokes work on her. The sneers she would welcome me with in the morning continue till she steps out of the apartment. I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m a nasty human being and if not for the money I pay her, she would cut my spleen out with her swordish hands and gaze.

I’ve taken another off from work today. Dad seems pretty convinced that I couldn’t possibly get swine flu, and so far it’s just a change of weather according to him that’s hit me. I agree with him due to lack of options. I would anyway hate to die after a cardiac arrest (learnt this morning that’s how people with H1N1 are going).

I’ve good reasons to start looking for the next job, as I approach the end of my one year in the present one. Plus a colleague at work did me a psychic reading and claimed my karma in India is almost done with. I was terrified in the way she conducted this session and so I don’t quite believe too much in her foretelling.

We used to have a lot of pretty girls coming in to Mr. Raghu Rai (my next door neighbor, and yes the acclaimed photographer)’s house all the time. I think they did not appreciate me in my expensive Levi’s denim shorts and just that as every morning I lay chase for them in the corridor with tea in an even more expensive Borosil glass. No footfalls any more.

My foot fetish has taken a beating off late. With winter round the corner, I hope the girls will cover up and all that would be left to see and admire will be the bottoms. And whatever has happened to these amazingly hot girls in Delhi! I mean where’s the factory that’s producing them in such huge numbers anyway! In fact I remember a bunch of eleventh grade students from a school for the excessively rich had come visiting us at work for I don’t know what academic reasons; and the girls there! I mean I did not notice when I switched from talking about software and IT to telling one of the girls how pretty her brown streaks looked! There are just not enough men to match up to these growing numbers of desirable women. Sigh.

Okay. Blogging is not a pain after all. I can be interesting. Right? RIGHT?

Advertisements

§ 3 Responses to The morning after

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

What’s this?

You are currently reading The morning after at C'est la vie...

meta

%d bloggers like this: