The day started with me having set to post a few documents to the States via India Speed Post. I trudged out in the scorching April sun of Bombay, completely sweaty within seconds of departure. I reached the post office without too many incidents and took my place in the appropriate line, starting non-concomitantly at either the ceiling or the ground as I awaited my turn. My mind was more focussed on the ice cream I'd promised myself after I'd posted the package off. All of a sudden I get a blast of tobacco stained breath in my mouth - something along the lines of "Arre, Kai Karto re?!?!?" I look down from the ceiling to see the sweaty man in front of me screaming at another sweaty man who had apparently tried to cut in line. I would've joined in, had I known any bit of Marathi, but simply contented myself by giving him the worst possible glare I could. I spent the rest of my time in line thinking about how that horrible blast of breath had come on my face while the man was staring to my right... Some questions never can be answered. After posting the package, I found that the nearby store had run out of ice-cream. I returned home with my grump quotient slightly above the acceptable average.
As events came about, I had to buy two blank CDs later in the day. I headed out to the local have-it-all store (god bless small time Indian entrepreneurs for this) and found that the store owner was lunching. I asked him if he could just deal with me and then be free to eat, and he told me that he'd join me in just a second. Hmm... Just a second... His 'Just a second' consisted of cracking, by the count, four jokes on Gujaratis with his lunch-mate, taking out his cellphone and playing some random instrumental music and laughing to himself - all while not even touching his food. The combination of the insanely high humidity and temperature, and his irritating ambiance prompted me to threaten to leave, rather haughtily, I might add. To my dismay, me gave me a flick of his head and continued with his jokes. The other store that stocked CDs was a good fifteen minutes away, but I'd never really liked this shopkeeper (Whom we call 'Anpad', hindi for illiterate). I stomped away, muttering to myself. On the road, I came across this group of guys listening to, I am almost sure, the same dumb song that the shopkeeper had been playing on his cell phone. Bad turned to worse, and I just had to swear out loud. I felt this haze forming before my eyes as I stolidly marched on ahead. Too bad about the haze, it caused me to ram into this horizontal pole, knocking my cap off and sending me to the dizzy verge of senseless tears. I sat down, collected myself and restrengthened my resolve to not let that shopkeeper get any monetary purchase from my CD shopping. I said some vile things to no one in particular, and moved on. I managed to buy the CDs while keeping myself in one piece - when a thought struck. The owners of both the aforementioned stores are cousins. My day seemed to have reached rock bottom right then, as I swore at everything I could think of for the second time that day - and then burst out laughing at my plight. Little did I know that the day hadn't even ended for me.
I got home and started burning the required data into the CDs. One of the CDs didn't even work, but I was too tired to get angry then. I managed to my best and went for a nice shower. Then this happened.
The lady who lives below me phoned to say that my next door neighbour wouldn't go upto her flat because of two monkeys sitting between our doors. She asked me to drive them away so that my neighbour could return with some peace of mind. My previous frustrating experiences of the day turned into some macho-rage-aggression mindset, complete with images of monkeys scurrying and crying away at my fury. I put on some really heavy metal, got out the trusty stick that most Indian families use to hang wet clothes, and bravely opened the door. I was confronted with two very lethargic looking creatures sitting about a foot from my door. Seeing me, they hurried up to the top of next flight of stairs, and surveyed me from there. I started up the flight whipped out my cellphone, snapped them, and then loudly banged the stick close to a tail. My bluff was called for the second time that day, as both of them calmly surveyed me. Only upon actually prodding them quite strongly, did they slowly get up and clamber out onto the terrace... They weren't my business anymore, so I trudged back inside after escorting the dear lady home.
I did go out in the evening later and vent my frustration on the field, which was very satisfying. But still, having my bravado being zapped so calmly by the omnipresent one sure did make me blink.
Just writing all this down takes lightens the load by so much. Vive le releases, vive indeed.
