In the deep dark cave, his nervous head bobbed up slowly, breaking the surface of water - just like how the plastic air filled ball inside the flush tank would when a some man pressed the lever painfully slowly towards the unsure end of the urination.
It’s hot and I wish I had 16 fingers. 8 on each hand. No, I don’t want wish that I had some extra super human capability over and above the rest of the population. In fact my wish requires that all of the human species have 16 fingers. A bead of sweat makes it way down the side of my forehead and slides like a glacier over the side of my cheeks. It leaves a burning trail. I hate shaving on summer days. I hate running out of aftershave even more. I wipe off the sweat and suck on the straw leading into my cold coffee. Nothing comes up. I suck harder. Cold coffee! What a joke – it’s a mix of super-frozen ice crystals, milk powder and ground coffee bean powder. Café coffee day Express. I remember Scrooge “Bah! Humbug!” I reconnect with my train of thought (taking a nanosecond detour there to Sheldon Cooper and back ). The only naturally feasible way – think evolution – for 16 fingers to be possible is if our predecessors – all the numerous monkey species should have had them too! And
warning: unpolished and a bit incoherent BUT factual story ahead (appended video is totally unedited real life video!!) incident time: 2011-02-27 --- It was a grand plan. A grand plan to admire the beauty of much much grander one - The Sealink. We were going to shoot a superb video of it and upload it online. We had done it before. But this time we wanted to be alone about the bridge. No excited shaking and panning around of the camera. No juvenile shrieks in the background. Just a serene video exposing the awe and wonder that is the Sealink. We set out. Me at the wheel, Deeksha shotgun and Nehal in the backseat without a belt. Nehal without a belt. As a driver I was just 5000 kms old. My car was as old as I was a driver - 5000 kms. I had earned a few minor bumps and scratches over the time but got them old fixed during the second servicing of my new car - A shit coloured Maruti Swift. Shit coloured - 'coz I didn't care to accompany my dad when he had gone to book the
Sometimes I think, do I have a choice? can't I just give up on you? nah!! The shit I am made of has too much of you in it.. punishment for growing up with you, getting messed up same as you - no i am not being sarcastic - we aren't like two pillars standing parallel holding up elegantly a magnificent piece of architecture that's what married people are supposed to be like - but they aren't and neither are we, but atleast unlike married people, we have no illusions about it. we are more like two doughnut shape magnets forged into one another - chipped here and there and with pieces of ferric pebbles and rust clinging to them - as if some kid dropped them in the soil below and now is trying helplessly to get rid of the messy particles clinging to them but somehow he can't - frustrated he throws them away, runs to his mom and cries asking for another pair. our friends are like that kids, they have given up on us, discarded us - we are a lost cause they