The elevator in my apartment had been graffiti-free. No love exposed, no budding artists appreciative of the female form, pretty boring actually. But yesterday, someone had broken all rules, and had to release their pentup emotions - on the elevator door. He (presumably he) has written: girl was poison.
How striking. One can only imagine what was going on through this guy's mind. The fleeting glance which sowed love in his mind. The yearnings, the long nights of dreams and fantasies, all the desires of wanting to be united with his love... of wanting to brush her quivering red lips against his own... of wanting to embrace and feel their hearts thumping in unison...
But then suddenly reality struck. He is devastated, betrayed, and bitter. The budding love got slashed, Uma Thurman style. That fragile creation in his mind was in fragments. The sutradhara has switched on gravity and he has crashed to the floor. Whom can he share his feelings with? Who can sympathize with him, and offer solace for his grieving mind? Who else, but the residents of the floors 2,3 and 4 of my apartment block.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
The Peesthala Tales
Prelude: The Peesthala, literally, is where one Pees. The following narrative requires a stretch of imagination, into a world where there's more life forms around you, than you have believed.
It's a bright and sunny morning. I have just arrived at work from my long drive. I login to my system, and proceed out to the Peesthala. My favorite - #3 from the left. I greet #3 a good morning, and she responds, winking her red eye. How was the drive? she asks. I express my wonder, Don't you ever tire of hearing my Hosur Road stories? She says, no - never darling, and winks her red eye again, now that I was done. I bid her au revoir and soon walk out, grabbing a coffee on my way back.
#3 tells me stories. The other day, she told me about this guy who came in talking on the phone, walked over to #5, and just continued talking, with the phone wedged between his head and left shoulder. #3, ever the propah Miss Manners, rolled her eyes... surely, the person on the other end of the phone could here a lot more than just voice.
There was also this story of these two guys who came in animatedly discussing some technical stuff. Just one of them walked over to #1, while the other guy stood 4 feet from him continuing their talk. #3 said she found it pretty amusing, because that guy at #1 stood there for a long time, just talking, and doing nothing else. He eventually gave up, and walked away, to some giggles from #1 and the others...
It's a bright and sunny morning. I have just arrived at work from my long drive. I login to my system, and proceed out to the Peesthala. My favorite - #3 from the left. I greet #3 a good morning, and she responds, winking her red eye. How was the drive? she asks. I express my wonder, Don't you ever tire of hearing my Hosur Road stories? She says, no - never darling, and winks her red eye again, now that I was done. I bid her au revoir and soon walk out, grabbing a coffee on my way back.
#3 tells me stories. The other day, she told me about this guy who came in talking on the phone, walked over to #5, and just continued talking, with the phone wedged between his head and left shoulder. #3, ever the propah Miss Manners, rolled her eyes... surely, the person on the other end of the phone could here a lot more than just voice.
There was also this story of these two guys who came in animatedly discussing some technical stuff. Just one of them walked over to #1, while the other guy stood 4 feet from him continuing their talk. #3 said she found it pretty amusing, because that guy at #1 stood there for a long time, just talking, and doing nothing else. He eventually gave up, and walked away, to some giggles from #1 and the others...
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