The characters below are purely fictional. Any resemblance to those living or dead is...well...purely coincidental.
“Ayoo…. I am late! Where the hell are those car keys?!”
Puff…Pant…Phew…Under the couch. Grabs them and SLAM! Shuts the door behind her.
“@#%%^^$!! These little satans! Perennially goofing around in the lift… Ought to be whacked! The way they grin when they come out…eh…devils!”
200 steps, 5 floors down, 4 little devil encounters, limbs aching and drenched in sweat, she heads to the parking lot.
“Which jackass parked his bike in front of my car? When will India change? No one cares… Security! How many times have I told you to keep an eye on ...”
The poor chap nods fervently. Well… he understands nothing other than Hindi.
“Haan madam…Ho jayega…”
She speeds away through the gate in her sporty latest automobile. She’d been in love with the model ever since she saw her heartthrob advertise for it.
“That’ll be mine”, she’d announced.
Honk!!! Screech!
“Fish! These MTC bus drivers… Where do they think they are driving? Sepang grand prix??? He has the audacity to glare back too. $%@!#@… As if I’m at fault.”
“There goes the signal…red! Just not my day…just not my day…
252 sec…251…250…wonder why they have this digital countdown meters…230…229…infuriates me more…saves fuel yeah…221…220…219…but the old element of surprise and the sudden temporary immense relief to behold that wonderful colour…green! Such small pleasures in life snatched away…These so called technology driven people never understand…203…202…losers…199…198…Hello… Has it started? Oh… accident? He’s okay right? Thank God! Yeah…That should help me sneak in before I’m too late…Chal…see you…phew… 141…First time and so many things crop up… 120…119… damn the guy who invented numbers…. …. ….98…97…. …. Also the guy who came up with the idea of counting it down…. …. …. 51… the traffic policeman does nothing other than grow his paunch… 32…. Also damn the guy who thought of extending it to domestic transport too…22...21...rockets I can understand… But.. bikes, buses, cars and cycles? eh…15…losers…9..8..7..6..5…click….3…vroom!”
Swoosh…swerve…
“Now which street is that in? These streets look too similar…Pathetic lighting all over…where does all the money we pay as tax vanish? They spend lakhs in advertising half the Hindu’s page asking us to pay tax on time…With a little devil gleefully flashing its teeth. Insane…”
She pulls over. Rolls down her window. Takes out a slip.
“Hello mister…Where is this street?”
The fella shrugs… “This is the street madam. Last building down this lane.”
“Thanks. Why the hell does he have to shrug? Why would I ask him if I knew?! Loser”
Screech…
“This is the one. Shit! I am late…”
She removes her slippers and darts inside.
Heads turn. He smiles understandingly. She manages a sheepish smile in return.
Two hours later, she gets out and heads to her car.
Two hours of her first Art of Living session.
He’d spoken about so many wonderful things…
The spirit of the self…the beauty of fortitude…the divinity of children…the maya of the material world…Tolerance…
Contented and enriched with her day’s learnings, she gets into her car… plugs her I-Pod on…Click…vroom…She speeds off …
Dave Matthews croons in her pod…
“And all the little ants are marching…
Red and black antennas waving…
They all do it the same…
They all do it the same way…”
3 comments:
inspiration borrowed from more than once source i should say. blended together to leave a sweet taste.
now that's the art of living for the ants forever marchin' - the red 'n' black antenae ones.
Thanks ashwin.
For the comment and for introducing me to the world of Dave Matthews... :)
as though u've heard some hundred songs! poda venna. listen to something other than ants marching also! :P
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