It is often said that with time, a particular act/thing turns into a habit and loses its charm. I don't really know how true it is. I usually develop a higher magnitude of interest in certain things with time. And so did I enjoy the travel everyday to the same destination. Only I could see and learn something new every single day.
As always, a bunch of them hooked on to mobile phones, a few others half asleep and then, there's me. And not to forget, the traffic. Like some past life lover, always haunting. A lavish black colored car comes to a halt right beside. A man probably in his fifties, tucked comfortably in his car, with an army of weapons. The weapons? A phone, a laptop and a glum face. His eyes gazing at the laptop screen as though he had found a peculiar insect and would refuse to take his eyes off it, probably wanting to claim patent rights for discovering the same.
Busy man, the mind whispered. Luxury life, the mind tickled. He might be making presentations that must be really significant for his meeting this morning, the mind cooked up stories. Meanwhile, his eyes still gazing at the peculiar insect. The past life lover refusing to leave. The scene continues for another 30 seconds. Drift away to something else, the mind urges restlessly. But the eyes envy the old man, peculiar insect must be looked at somehow.
The past life lover (the traffic) observing the blissful ignorance decides to walk away. The engine raves up. The lavish car moves forward. The moment had finally come. The moment that I longed for. I would finally see the peculiar insect (the laptop screen).
When the pickup hit it, the armadillo came apart like a watermelon flung across the asphalt. The peculiar insect was nothing but a very basic, card game that I had come across ten thousand times but never wished to play. Disappointment, laughter and sarcasm rushed into me all at once and I ended up storing the incident in permanent memory.
A changeover of surrounding was crucial. Now was the turn to observe a co-passenger. A young lady, dressed up smartly, carrying a bunch of papers as white as a moon but containing a plethora of ink marks, trying to learn everything she had written. 'Something something services' the title said. The mind immediately perceived where she was heading to. An interview.
Nervousness crept in her like a tornado in a peaceful grassland. The past life lover's re-entry enlarged her nervousness. I reached out for her. I questioned her if she was attending an interview, even though I knew she was. But that is how you strike a conversation right? At least, at that moment, that was what my mind came up with. Yes, she exclaimed, as though she were so happy about somebody noticing her who could distract her from her nervousness. All the best, popped out of my mind. And a firm smile. And she was happy. Instantly, her face lit up, she was much more confident now. I was content.
Thereby came my destination and I said goodbye for a chain of thoughts. I hope she cleared her interview, I hope she's happy. I hope she doesn't curse me as bad luck if the answer isn't in the affirmative. 'Something something services', this lady is too dedicated, please hire her and save me from being a person of ill-luck to her.
As always, a bunch of them hooked on to mobile phones, a few others half asleep and then, there's me. And not to forget, the traffic. Like some past life lover, always haunting. A lavish black colored car comes to a halt right beside. A man probably in his fifties, tucked comfortably in his car, with an army of weapons. The weapons? A phone, a laptop and a glum face. His eyes gazing at the laptop screen as though he had found a peculiar insect and would refuse to take his eyes off it, probably wanting to claim patent rights for discovering the same.
Busy man, the mind whispered. Luxury life, the mind tickled. He might be making presentations that must be really significant for his meeting this morning, the mind cooked up stories. Meanwhile, his eyes still gazing at the peculiar insect. The past life lover refusing to leave. The scene continues for another 30 seconds. Drift away to something else, the mind urges restlessly. But the eyes envy the old man, peculiar insect must be looked at somehow.
The past life lover (the traffic) observing the blissful ignorance decides to walk away. The engine raves up. The lavish car moves forward. The moment had finally come. The moment that I longed for. I would finally see the peculiar insect (the laptop screen).
When the pickup hit it, the armadillo came apart like a watermelon flung across the asphalt. The peculiar insect was nothing but a very basic, card game that I had come across ten thousand times but never wished to play. Disappointment, laughter and sarcasm rushed into me all at once and I ended up storing the incident in permanent memory.
A changeover of surrounding was crucial. Now was the turn to observe a co-passenger. A young lady, dressed up smartly, carrying a bunch of papers as white as a moon but containing a plethora of ink marks, trying to learn everything she had written. 'Something something services' the title said. The mind immediately perceived where she was heading to. An interview.
Nervousness crept in her like a tornado in a peaceful grassland. The past life lover's re-entry enlarged her nervousness. I reached out for her. I questioned her if she was attending an interview, even though I knew she was. But that is how you strike a conversation right? At least, at that moment, that was what my mind came up with. Yes, she exclaimed, as though she were so happy about somebody noticing her who could distract her from her nervousness. All the best, popped out of my mind. And a firm smile. And she was happy. Instantly, her face lit up, she was much more confident now. I was content.
Thereby came my destination and I said goodbye for a chain of thoughts. I hope she cleared her interview, I hope she's happy. I hope she doesn't curse me as bad luck if the answer isn't in the affirmative. 'Something something services', this lady is too dedicated, please hire her and save me from being a person of ill-luck to her.