Part 2: FC-18 (Chapter 1)

“Crap!!” escaped my lips when my bike's stand hit my shin.
I turned back my head to see if mom was close enough to hear me. No, she was opening the main gate for me at the end of the driveway.

As I rolled out of the house I smiled. This was a usual morning. After too much snoozing I got up late. I had some ironed cloths but no proper shirt trouser combination. I used all my creativity to come up with an acceptable business formal from the options I had. I bit my tongue while eating the breakfast and I am starting from home when I should ideally be in office…. Hehehe .. the usual morning. And yes my shin still hurts.

I will be late again for the status meeting. I hate them. I think the only reason for an early morning meeting is to ensure that everyone is in office by a certain time. And evening status calls are to tell everyone that there is still too much work left and how the workday was not productive enough. And all afternoon status calls are because the boss does not have enough work to keep him occupied. Hehehehe

I received a mail which questioned me on yesterday’s attendance. Probably my security batch is not registering properly on swipe machine. But yesterday? Come on man!! She wore the emerald green kurta … I would have not missed that for a world.

“Abhay” boss called me after the meeting. He again questioned me being late to the office. “Traffic” I said with an innocent smile. This is what I like about Bangalore, I don’t even have to fish for a new excuse everyday. Of coarse, this explanation did not suffice and of coarse, I do not care…

As I settled to pretend working, Anjali called. She needed company for breakfast. I almost chuckled as I imagined boss's expressions if he saw me left my desk soon after his heart felt be-at-office-on-time conversation.

Anjali took forever to decide the dosa wanted to eat. You know why because she is trying to loose weight…what Crap!! Yes she looked plump in the western formals today and her cheeks a little more fuller … I smiled ... She looked cute. She need not sweat about this, I still l… ummm

She was pissed off for some reason. Well I know this because she was not making any eye contact with me. This was an obvious body language sign that she wanted to be left alone. Like a dutiful friend I sat in front of her drinking my coffee and not uttering a word, lest I offend her; though I stole a few glances of her troubled face. Must be work, I lied to myself.

As we were walking out of the food court, Aarti came out of nowhere. She was all smiles to see us, happy at the prospect of finding company for breakfast. Anjali returned to her desk as she had a meeting while I stayed back with Aarti. She was happy; the day seemed to be working for her. In fact, she talked and talked and talked, I never thought she was capable of talking so much. I smiled and acknowledged her words; this is what I usually do the best.

By the time I returned to my desk, it was obvious that Anjali’s mood had rubbed on me. I impatiently waited for the four o’clock snack break as I was sure time spent with the whole gang would definitely cheer her up.

To my disappointment Anjali gave the evening break a miss. Out of the many events in the day what stayed in front of my eyes was her grim face and what stayed in my ears was her sober voice.

A long, snail paced ride back home, a quiet dinner with mom and endless sleepless hours in bed followed… I stared at the moving fan. I hate to confess this was really a usual day…Anjali has been really off lately, unknowingly setting my life on a grim path

As I lay in bed with Anjali’s mood, too scared to reflect on real world I started imagining stories…

Yes I am an introvert because my head speaks. I spin stories in my head. My imaginary characters speak and behave and respond, they keep me company all the time. At times they are a reflection of my frame of mind and at other times they cheer me up. I don’t know the significance of these stories except that they are my companion.

As my hero sank in the comforting arms of his beloved, the warmth of my romantic imagination soothed me and drew me to sleep with an unsaid prayer on my lips ‘Let tomorrow be unusual’.