I wake up later than I planned to.
I had decided. Day two will see me dressed in one of my finest attires.
But honestly, I completely forgot I had work. You’d be surprised what years of education can do to you. Leaves you unprepared for the wretchedness of work and makes you a stranger to the fact that you can’t just bunk work.
Anyway, all the dressing done. Bags packed. I set to work.
Ugh. The auto rickshaws and the fights. I’m beginning to wonder, that as time passes, auto rickshaw unions will ban me for good.
After some random talk, that, I distinctly remember, was about, bad roads and terrible weather. Answers to which were met with ‘hmmms’, ‘ahhans’. I realised this auto driver wasn’t interested in anything that I spoke about. But I refused to budge. If he’s taking a good extra ₹10 from me, he might as well get to hear me complain. Absolutely free.
After I got off, I swear I could tell the look on the guys face was that of relief. You don’t need to be Cal Lightman to recognise that look. Ungrateful man.
Anyway. I regain my composure and get to my desk. A good 30 minutes earlier than the usual time.
I was taught to work on the astrology page. The write-up for which, makes you doubt the existence of puppies. The words that make you want to steal candies from kids (I’d do that anyway).
So, I had to rewrite what some man had predicted for the rest of the world. Fifteen days in advance. Some soothsayer he is.
Half-an-hour down the drain, a few ten thousand words (of exhaustion) later with a few ten thousand words to go. I pat myself for never preparing a list. But if I did. This man’s name was going to be the first on it.
The rest of the day was kind of a bore. Walked around silently. Acted like I talk less. Spoke on the phone in whispers.
My mother keeps calling to check if the miserable world of journalism has eaten up her precious little daughter. Actually, no. She just calls to check if I ate. When I ate.What I ate. What I want to eat after getting back home. What I would like for breakfast the next day. With my mum everything revolves around food. That is probably the most irritating and yet on so many levels a thoughtful and caring act.
I’m an ungrateful child.
Anyway, as my silent ninja act gets going, I hear the team talk about ”the new girl”, I shrug. I hate that. I also want to punch them in their face. I push that plan for later.
Day ends. And just when I thought I was going to get home. Away from work. I realise I have the newsroom meet to attend.
Ideas, we need ideas.
A good 30-minutes of my life down the drain, we still have zero ideas. At this rate I can see myself waving good bye to the little social life I have left.
I can foresee the future. 5 years of life wasted in annoying meetings. And no. It has nothing to do with the astrology.
Ideas exchanged and a few discussions later. Magically a story falls into my lap. I must have zoned out or slept off (one of my many talents).
I didn’t realise what story I was working on.
I head home.
I look back at the day as I lay in bed, waiting for a text.
Distant boy keeps me waiting.
I have a nagging feeling.
It’s not the boy, well it could be.
But right now I have greater matters to deal with.
It all comes back to me in pieces.
The story I’m working on has something to do with boobs. Boy boobs.
THIS WAS NOT WHAT THAT ASTROLOGER HAD PREDICTED!