I put the key into the lock of my room in the only 5-star hotel in the new city.
I smelt something fishy in the silence of the corridor. I was about to enter when I heard a knock on the neighbouring door. I turned to see, when the door on my other side burst open and a man wearing a fish costume jumped out in front of me and started reciting verses from the Bhagvat Gita. I took out my friend’s lighter from the left pocket of my shirt and tried to dry the fish man to death.
He spread his hands and with a shudder clenched his fists, the action spreading his small fins and making a noise like a pig.
In fright and in splits of laughter I took out my Sword of Tipu Sultan knife and was about to tear to shreds the orange in my right hand when the porter asked in a loud enough voice if I would need his services to unload any of my luggage at the present station.
I spit fire through my eyes and asked him to meet me at the next station for that.
He spit the same fire and mouthed a beautiful adjective for me.
I took some air out of the Air-Pillow under my legs and put my rotten smelling apple out of the window of the berth below me.
I felt comfy enough now.
I took out the Parker Pen out of the right pocket of my pant and wrote the words ”Open Sesame” on the rock door of the cave. There was a huge sound and the cave door fell down on the lion which was just about to pounce on the cubs of a lioness that he was thinking of dating.
The event exposed to me the naked expanse of the gigantic inner auditorium. I observed, awestruck, the series of chairs and the huge stage in front. I started searching for the chair with my name or my examination ID number. I remembered innumerable such tests which I had crossed, half prepared, half confident, tensed, relaxed, enjoying the experience, simultaneously dreading the immediate future.
There it was, written on the rosewood table in front of one of so many bamboo chairs… my name in yellow. I closed my eyes.
The wincing pain in my hand brought my attention to the honey-bee sized mosquito reveling in my blood. I snatched my newspaper from the hands of a co-passenger and swat the pest to death. The pleasure I derived from the act is inexplicable. Being an avid follower of Gandhiji’s principles, this act of revenge bringing me pleasure seemed a contradiction in my character. Neglecting such spiritual thoughts I glanced out of the window… trees were running back from my destination. As much as I liked a particular tree, it would run away from the scene all the more faster. One particular tree caught my attention so much it deserved to be recorded for future references. I filled my eyes with its beautiful flower filled picture and closed them.
I smelt something fishy in the silence of the corridor. I was about to enter when I heard a knock on the neighbouring door. I turned to see, when the door on my other side burst open and a man wearing a fish costume jumped out in front of me and started reciting verses from the Bhagvat Gita. I took out my friend’s lighter from the left pocket of my shirt and tried to dry the fish man to death.
He spread his hands and with a shudder clenched his fists, the action spreading his small fins and making a noise like a pig.
In fright and in splits of laughter I took out my Sword of Tipu Sultan knife and was about to tear to shreds the orange in my right hand when the porter asked in a loud enough voice if I would need his services to unload any of my luggage at the present station.
I spit fire through my eyes and asked him to meet me at the next station for that.
He spit the same fire and mouthed a beautiful adjective for me.
I took some air out of the Air-Pillow under my legs and put my rotten smelling apple out of the window of the berth below me.
I felt comfy enough now.
I took out the Parker Pen out of the right pocket of my pant and wrote the words ”Open Sesame” on the rock door of the cave. There was a huge sound and the cave door fell down on the lion which was just about to pounce on the cubs of a lioness that he was thinking of dating.
The event exposed to me the naked expanse of the gigantic inner auditorium. I observed, awestruck, the series of chairs and the huge stage in front. I started searching for the chair with my name or my examination ID number. I remembered innumerable such tests which I had crossed, half prepared, half confident, tensed, relaxed, enjoying the experience, simultaneously dreading the immediate future.
There it was, written on the rosewood table in front of one of so many bamboo chairs… my name in yellow. I closed my eyes.
The wincing pain in my hand brought my attention to the honey-bee sized mosquito reveling in my blood. I snatched my newspaper from the hands of a co-passenger and swat the pest to death. The pleasure I derived from the act is inexplicable. Being an avid follower of Gandhiji’s principles, this act of revenge bringing me pleasure seemed a contradiction in my character. Neglecting such spiritual thoughts I glanced out of the window… trees were running back from my destination. As much as I liked a particular tree, it would run away from the scene all the more faster. One particular tree caught my attention so much it deserved to be recorded for future references. I filled my eyes with its beautiful flower filled picture and closed them.
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