Magic MachinePart 1
Talk about it ….
Accessibility and Privacy, two independent aspects of life that came well packaged in the small hand held device. It swept many people off their feet at the start of the new millennium. It was the irresistible mobile phone.
Unlike the youngsters today, who flamboyantly flaunt them or playfully punch in sms’s with expertise of a programmer, it was neither accessible nor acceptable in my household. Even, when I was close to completion of graduation.
I set my eyes on it first when my uncle, got one of them home. It was not merely a device; it was a status symbol that most of the elite and techno-savvy carried around. My uncle claimed he needed one as fast communication was the key to our family business. In those days, the mobile phone was just marginally smaller than the regular cordless phones, quite off heavy and boasted of the two line display and a protruding antenna. One got a leather pouch to carry it. The pouch could be strapped on the trouser’s belt. It was highly priced; both incoming and outgoing calls were billed.
Things changed soon and by 2003, the common man found it far more comfortable buying the latest sleek models of Nokia 3315 mobile series with a pre-paid sim card. It was cheaper, faster, and lighter and had become a must-have device for one and all. Doctors, Cab operators, Businessmen, all welcomed it into their homes. The Student pool was also showered with special offers on youth sim cards and slashed prices, the mobile was now truly within reach for anyone.
Some used it for consulting, some for exchanging a joke with their loved ones, some to spread the word faster, some to check on their spouses and children, some to close business deals and some even to call the plumber. It was truly a Magic Machine, connecting people irrespective of location, at any time!
Like any youngster in early 20’s, I too wished I had one of these gizmos. I could receive calls from friends who were from the opposite sex, without having them to go through the preliminary introductory interrogation at home by mom and save me from the routine debriefing session after hanging up. I could receive life changing information about new job opportunities even when I was not at home, as I was in my final year and securing job while in campus was my goal, at least at that time. Moreover with the mobile, I would never miss any unplanned party, movie, trip or treat. If not anything, it would get me an entry to the club of well connected!
“No! Absolutely no! , concentrate on your studies and try to get a job! “, “This is the only thing that I left to distract you! “, “Did we grow up with mobiles? “
My mom was strongly against my idea of procuring the irresistible device. She seldom was so adamant; students misusing the mobile phones had been on the top of the gossip list of the local ladies I guess. Even my plea that it would be helpful in getting me a job was turned down.
Being Adamant has been attributed to my character since childhood. Seeing my mom being that was an eye-opener. I must have been such a mess to deal with!
I dropped the idea, not because mom dint support it, I dint have the money to buy it by myself.
Part 2
Dream about it ….
Like an uncontrolled epidemic, more and more of my friends and relatives went down to the temptation of a mobile phone. Now with it being clearly black listed in my house, it looked more attractive, more sleek and more worth dying for. This was one outbreak you wanted to be part off.
The last time, I fell victim to desire was for a Bike. This was promptly approved and was driving my dream within a few months since I fell for it. Alas, the mobile did not fall into the good books. What use is the bike if your date can’t call you unless you are at home?
Which interview can you attend unless you get the information real time? How will mom find out that I am safe on the trek unless she can call me? Why doesn’t she understand?
Soon, my piggy bank started to swell. Thanks to the numerous fests that offered cash prizes, my T-shirt design and sell venture in college. I think I had just about enough money to buy a mobile phone from the black market. The original show room would be at least 30% higher, but would give me a valid bill and a 1 year warranty. Well who needs a warranty; I just need a mobile phone.
19th of September, 2003
With my techno adviser and negotiator, Mr. Santa. I set out to the city’s imported goods black market - National Market. A new age building housing many small shops trading imported clothes, perfumes, shoes , electronics, chocolates to mobiles , set in the buzzing centre of the city which houses the Main city railway station and Main bus terminus. This is one of the oldest parts of the city .With one main road and a network of small by lanes brimming with people - Pedestrians, Street hawkers, Police men, Beggars, Businessmen, Shoppers, Tourists, Pimps, Laborers , Fruit sellers, stray dogs, cows …All of them at their own pace , flowing like a flooded river with debris along narrow passages in both directions. Together they represent the pulse of Bangalore. The pulse, that keeps the city alive.
Mr.Santa was a true techno freak, be it automobiles or just mobiles. He was the man for job, update with latest trends, prices and models , gifted with very good bargaining skills. All he needed to know was how much money I was ready to shell out.
After several discussions across many shops , Mr.Santa sealed the deal.
3700 Rs for a Nokia 3315 mobible handset. I was a novice in handling the cell phone.
Mr.Santa helped me store all the mobile numbers I needed and even taught me a few shortcuts in the application. I thanked him very much and treated him with his favorite, Kerala Parota and Beef curry hotel near Dayananda Sagar College of Engineering.
There was a sense of fullness.
Happiness, in my heart.
Delight, in his Tummy.
Rage, of my mummy.
Yes, my mom was fuming over my decision to buy a mobile on my own.
I had gone against her will and done what I felt was right, with not a bit guilt.
She was very cold for many days, looking after my tasks mechanically, not even taking a look at my dearest and latest possession. I dint give in too, rather the mobile kept me very busy in my own world to give much attention.
As a few days went by, the cold war was called off, how exactly I do not recollect. Now.
Part 3
Fret about it ….
Now a member of the “I too have a mobile “ club , maximum usage of the mobile was usually aloud in public, I used to flash my brand new fashion statement whenever I could, I was now living a dream.
I was rudely woken up from this dream.
Less than 10 days after I had bought the blue shaded handset from the black market,
It blacked out! My life blacked out.
Did I see a sly hidden smile on my mom’s innocent face when I told her this news that day? Am not sure.
27h of September, 2003
With no warranty, no piggy fund, no intention to ask mom to pay for the repair, I was now stuck. No more mobile..
I decided to take it to the Nokia care centre, which would have done the job for free against my warranty had I bought it from an original store. Mr. Santa has been using black market phones for quite a while and never has reported any such danger. Guess it was my luck.
With Mr. Kind and Mr. Small, My all time buddies I set out to the Nokia care centre on Richmond Road. I looked like a battered soldier carrying his injured kid in his arms, to a Red Cross centre. The Nurse took in the patient. She asked me if I had insurance (warranty) and the birth certificate (Original bill). I had to tell her that he was an orphan (cell from the black market) and had no one to take care off.
She then gave him some sedative (Switch off), and turned him upside down. In the lights of the operation theater (Workshop), she took off his clothes (cover) and gently lifted his heart (battery), she then could see that his nerve connecting his brain (Circuit board) and eye (LCD display) was twisted. This was OND Opta-Neuro-Disorder; it required immediate transplant surgery (replace connection) or the eyesight (LCD display) would be lost forever. Even though the kid was in safe hands, the surgery had to be done immediately as now the diagnostic (inspection) procedure was way a too much intrusive way to head back. It was eyesight no not.
The care estimated that this complex operation and transplant procedure would cost upto 1250Rs. Time was running out and we had no means to pay up such a hefty bill. Even Mr.Kind and Mr.Small were helpless.
Seeing our dilemma, The Nurse tried to stop the diagnostic procedure and hand over the kid to us. The kid’s fate was sealed; he would not see the outside world. To the horror of the nurse, the twisted nerve gave way and got severed from the brain, in spite of the delicate handling. She quickly called for help and swung into action in the Intensive Care Unit. (ICU) I was close to breakdown; the kid was destined to die a premature death.
After a tense wait for 15 long minutes, the nurse appeared from inside the ICU, in her arms was the kid. Looking straight into my eyes!
This was a moment of silence; I could trace the moments I wanted to see him, the way Mr. Santa picked him up the first time, how his step father bargained for his price, how happy he made me and how my mother never even took a look at him. Poor thing had gone through all this till he was injured and here he was in the arms of an Angel, she had saved him!
The jubilant angel told us that she had done a transplant surgery for our kid, he could now see even better than before. She also told us that she had beared all expenses of the surgery as she was responsible for severing the nerve during the diagnosis.
I was filled with Awe, I picked up the kid and gently cuddled him with love and my eyes were moist. Mr. Small and Mr. Kind too were amazed with the whole incident. I looked at the eyes of the angel, thanking her for her kindness. I would always be grateful to her.
Then I looked at him, my kid. No more an Orphan. I sweared ,to take care of him and save enough money for his insurance. He looked so much alive , suddenly he went off into a fit and started blinking and shaking all over. I picked him up and held his heart close to my ear “ Where are you? Am trying to reach you from an hour! “ that was my mom.
My take on this : Wherever you go, your network follows.
Remember : You are answerable only to your parents and your mobile !
Monday, October 6, 2008
Passports's for Passouts
Part 1
Who is the genie?
A valid passport is among the most optimistic and pious documents that one tires to secure, on the verge of getting placed in the final year of graduation. It is a sign that one is looking forward to be among those who were going to “go places “.
Unlike my childhood days, when all one needed was Aladdin’s Magic carpet. Which on my command would have taken off with me, up above the Big Pepal Tree outside my house to nearby “Sandhya stores” for a packet of crunchy “Yummies “!!, Or to the Toy train at Bal Bhavan, Cubbon park within seconds, Take me Far far away from School, tuition and homework to maybe “Gulf “, where all my uncles were making lots of money to buy me presents. Alas! No more Genies, No more wishes …..No more Magic Carpets, in the final year of my engineering graduation, I would need a passport! And I have to get it by myself.
Wait a minute! Talking about Genies, I do have a Genius if not a Genie to help me.
Known for his,” ahem, sorry! “ Heard for his voice , which generates mega decibels laud gyan and never stops bombarding ones eardrums until night fall. Neighbors and friends knew he was approaching miles away .In fact, we even think that a percentage of sleep disorders in the US were due to him being awake and talking in India 12 hours away on the time zone.
His earthshaking arrival to college on this modest moped Luna reminded everyone of the Hindu God Ganesh traveling on his mouse (Mooshaka – vaahana). His unlimited talk time and activated roaming did help him connect very well and he became the one stop solution for any problem with his arsenal of friends, contacts, information and smart tips. So I did earnestly rub my telephone mouthpiece as I dialed to connect to my genie, who was more than willing to come to the passport office himself with me the next day.
25th of August, 2003.
A long queue was ahead of my genie and me on the Monday morning, outside the Passport office in Bangalore. All, including the care taker of the two-wheeler parking woke up on our arrival there, thanks to my genie. We were approached by a lot of middle men who offered their service in getting a passport for a hefty fee of course. My genie was quick to turn them down; he was the man who knew this process in and out. In fact this was the 3rd or 4th time he was our here to help his friends with the passport process.
In return, all one had to do was to listen to his philosophy and experiences the whole time. There were no techniques yet to ward of the laser like speech rays, no way one can switch off mentally, he had one gifted, deeply penetrating voice.
The queue did move quickly, we managed to get the Passport application form, now i needed to get a few photographs clicked. “Yes, passport size!” This was the term I used every time I needed a photo for any application right from school time, finally I get was about to get passport size photos for my passport. So we ran off in search of a photo studio nearby, on a rather sunny day.
We did find one ,about two blocks away on Brunton road. Little did I know that this photo was one that would be stuck to me , as my main identity proof for years to come?
As luck would have it, that day I had sported a funny hairdo, worn a blue jean shirt and an carved an awkward French bread, to add to that, I let out a goofy smile while my picture was taken. Thanks to a funny heroics of my genie behind the cameraman. I filled in the application form and stuck the photos with great care and concentration, while my genie was ,for a change quietly gulping down a vegetable sandwich and sipping on the Cappuccino at the Coffee day outlet Prestige Towers, M.G road. We returned the application at the passport office with all the documents, stopping on our way home for a game of snooker. That was half the task, now I needed to wait for a call from the local Police Station for an address confirmation and then the passport would arrive home.
Part 2
Who is Aladdin?
Now as most people my age, I too had a crush on one of my batch mates. A real cute gal, whom I had come to know pretty well. She was now in our group of friends, we all used to hang out a lot. (At that point of time at least). She had denied any feelings for me a few months ago but wanted to be my friend as always, always. All I needed was some time with her to convince her of my undying love for her etc etc…all I needed was an outing with her; a date was too much to ask.
I happened to tell her that I had applied for my passport the other day. And Bang , she sprung into anxiety “ I too need to apply for one, can you help me please ?”. Who else could see the flame of hope in the eyes of Jasmine, than Aladdin himself?
I am Aladdin
29th of August, 2003.
Aladdin was up and ready to go by 7:30 am, a full night’s wait was about to bear fruit or at least passport. Aladdin called up Princess Jasmine to inform he was flying off to the Magic carpet office i.e. the Passport office. The princess as usual arrived at the Magic carpet office much later than her slave lover Aladdin.
Aladdin though all excited about meeting the princess was very nervous. Aladdin feared the thought of bumping into his Genie here. Then the Genie would take away all of his tasks and Aladdin could easily forget his private time with the Princess, as the both would have to listen to Genie tales.
Luckily, nothing of that sort happened. Aladdin went guided the cheerful princess through the routine process. Applications , Photos , documents all followed with a clinical precision. The Application had to be submitted at the office upstairs by the princess herself. Here Aladdin was required to wait outside all alone. In what seemed like a wait for Cauvery water in CMC layouts, Aladdin waited.. and watched.
A gal dressed in blue jeans and t-shirt was swearing at the gatekeepers. Oh no , then it seemed like she was talking to herself, then she was again cursing the timings. Apparently she was late to the Passport office and was not to happy about the system and timings in place. She a girly red watch with a thick red strap that caught my attention. She provided some entertainment in the self proclaimed Aladdin’s wait for the Princess Jasmine. Finally the gal realized that she was now the centre of attraction, she smiled sheepishly and left , I caught her attention for a split second , in an eye-to-eye glance where we quickly exchanged an empathetic look, to be cut short by both of us looking away with raised eyebrows and zipped mouth. Her, Aladdin decided to christen as Ms .Little Red Rowdy hood.
Aladdin had not told his mother that he was going out with Princess Jasmine and she would think he was in college as usual. Nor had he told his Genie. Even as thoughts to getting time out with Princess excited Aladdin, his non disclosure to mom and the genie disturbed him. Aladdin was brought back to the busy street outside the passport complex from his day dreams, as Princess Jasmine stepped out in a hurry to cross the road.
Now he was hopeful, she was thankful.
As they took a walk on the busy streets, cracking jokes , exchanging views , giggling …. Aladdin had his passport to paradise. Sheer Bliss !
As they strolled by the possible eateries on M.G road, Canopy, Ebony it reminded Aladdin was he was on a fast that day in remembrance of his dad. Also that he had to wind up from paradise and reach home soon.
Part 3
Who are you?
Aladdin calls up his Genie, to tell him that he too has now mastered the Magic carpet skills. His Genie although happy to have him as an apprentice, was curious about whom he had helped out. Aladdin told that it was Jasmine as though she were just some gal and diverted the Genie with the funny tale of Ms .Little Red Rowdy hood. Aladdin also added a bit more elaborate description of her mannerisms, her red watch just to engage his Genie fully in this topic. Far far away from Princess Jasmine..
Aladdin is me.
After the phone call , I was exhausted but content. Was happy about the whole day.
All I had to do was have a quiet entry and good nights sleep.
At that time, I lived in a building that housed 7 apartments and a Music school.
The owner of the building was a musician with several interests like construction, travel, quality leisure and sports.He had installed a brand new table tennis stand and three seated Iron swing with soft cushions , in front of our house on the ground floor for common use for all the inmates of his building .
That night as I pulled open the Huge Metal Gates of the building to get in , I saw my mom at the door about 10 yards from the gate , chatting with a lady who stayed upstairs .
I casually closed the gates behind me and looked to the right, beyond the table tennis stand.
I simply could not believe my eyes, sitting right in the centre seat of the Iron swing, swinging in a mellow rhythm, with eyes locked on me , the intruder ,was none other than Ms .Little Red Rowdy hood!!
“Who are you?” She asked.
I rebutted, “What are you doing here? I stay here”.
“She’s my niece, do you know her? “said the lady who stayed upstairs.
Ms .Little Red Rowdy hood quickly added “Oh I am sorry!”
I had to sum up all my senses, the red watch!!
My eyes were searching her arms for the red watch, if its her then she will have the watch.
And there it was , the fancy red watch , with big red strap on a pretty wrist. It was indeed Ms .Little Red Rowdy hood.
My mind was brimming with questions.
Did she need a passport to come to my place?
Does my mom know i bunked classes and went to the passport office that too for my friend?
Who gave her the stupid watch?
Am I hallucinating?
Is mom going to be cold and angry with me?
Will have to fast the rest of my life?
Is this gal a spy?
….
“Do you know each other?” My mom cleared my mind with this final question.
“Yes, I think I saw her at the passport office “, I looked at her with my eyebrows begging her to add some lines…
“Yes yes,” She added, then she introduced herself to me and left with her aunt bidding us goodnight !
Phew that was a close shave.
I took excuse of my mom, ran non-stop for about 200 meters to the local telephone booth, had to shout my lungs out about the appearance of Ms .Little Red Rowdy hood to my Princess and my Genie know about the strange twist in the story. Both of them were very excited and surprised with the coincidence. My Genie was along strangely quiet, letting the reality set in.
My take on this: If you don’t stay in a lamp, then leave the job to a Genie!
Who is the genie?
A valid passport is among the most optimistic and pious documents that one tires to secure, on the verge of getting placed in the final year of graduation. It is a sign that one is looking forward to be among those who were going to “go places “.
Unlike my childhood days, when all one needed was Aladdin’s Magic carpet. Which on my command would have taken off with me, up above the Big Pepal Tree outside my house to nearby “Sandhya stores” for a packet of crunchy “Yummies “!!, Or to the Toy train at Bal Bhavan, Cubbon park within seconds, Take me Far far away from School, tuition and homework to maybe “Gulf “, where all my uncles were making lots of money to buy me presents. Alas! No more Genies, No more wishes …..No more Magic Carpets, in the final year of my engineering graduation, I would need a passport! And I have to get it by myself.
Wait a minute! Talking about Genies, I do have a Genius if not a Genie to help me.
Known for his,” ahem, sorry! “ Heard for his voice , which generates mega decibels laud gyan and never stops bombarding ones eardrums until night fall. Neighbors and friends knew he was approaching miles away .In fact, we even think that a percentage of sleep disorders in the US were due to him being awake and talking in India 12 hours away on the time zone.
His earthshaking arrival to college on this modest moped Luna reminded everyone of the Hindu God Ganesh traveling on his mouse (Mooshaka – vaahana). His unlimited talk time and activated roaming did help him connect very well and he became the one stop solution for any problem with his arsenal of friends, contacts, information and smart tips. So I did earnestly rub my telephone mouthpiece as I dialed to connect to my genie, who was more than willing to come to the passport office himself with me the next day.
25th of August, 2003.
A long queue was ahead of my genie and me on the Monday morning, outside the Passport office in Bangalore. All, including the care taker of the two-wheeler parking woke up on our arrival there, thanks to my genie. We were approached by a lot of middle men who offered their service in getting a passport for a hefty fee of course. My genie was quick to turn them down; he was the man who knew this process in and out. In fact this was the 3rd or 4th time he was our here to help his friends with the passport process.
In return, all one had to do was to listen to his philosophy and experiences the whole time. There were no techniques yet to ward of the laser like speech rays, no way one can switch off mentally, he had one gifted, deeply penetrating voice.
The queue did move quickly, we managed to get the Passport application form, now i needed to get a few photographs clicked. “Yes, passport size!” This was the term I used every time I needed a photo for any application right from school time, finally I get was about to get passport size photos for my passport. So we ran off in search of a photo studio nearby, on a rather sunny day.
We did find one ,about two blocks away on Brunton road. Little did I know that this photo was one that would be stuck to me , as my main identity proof for years to come?
As luck would have it, that day I had sported a funny hairdo, worn a blue jean shirt and an carved an awkward French bread, to add to that, I let out a goofy smile while my picture was taken. Thanks to a funny heroics of my genie behind the cameraman. I filled in the application form and stuck the photos with great care and concentration, while my genie was ,for a change quietly gulping down a vegetable sandwich and sipping on the Cappuccino at the Coffee day outlet Prestige Towers, M.G road. We returned the application at the passport office with all the documents, stopping on our way home for a game of snooker. That was half the task, now I needed to wait for a call from the local Police Station for an address confirmation and then the passport would arrive home.
Part 2
Who is Aladdin?
Now as most people my age, I too had a crush on one of my batch mates. A real cute gal, whom I had come to know pretty well. She was now in our group of friends, we all used to hang out a lot. (At that point of time at least). She had denied any feelings for me a few months ago but wanted to be my friend as always, always. All I needed was some time with her to convince her of my undying love for her etc etc…all I needed was an outing with her; a date was too much to ask.
I happened to tell her that I had applied for my passport the other day. And Bang , she sprung into anxiety “ I too need to apply for one, can you help me please ?”. Who else could see the flame of hope in the eyes of Jasmine, than Aladdin himself?
I am Aladdin
29th of August, 2003.
Aladdin was up and ready to go by 7:30 am, a full night’s wait was about to bear fruit or at least passport. Aladdin called up Princess Jasmine to inform he was flying off to the Magic carpet office i.e. the Passport office. The princess as usual arrived at the Magic carpet office much later than her slave lover Aladdin.
Aladdin though all excited about meeting the princess was very nervous. Aladdin feared the thought of bumping into his Genie here. Then the Genie would take away all of his tasks and Aladdin could easily forget his private time with the Princess, as the both would have to listen to Genie tales.
Luckily, nothing of that sort happened. Aladdin went guided the cheerful princess through the routine process. Applications , Photos , documents all followed with a clinical precision. The Application had to be submitted at the office upstairs by the princess herself. Here Aladdin was required to wait outside all alone. In what seemed like a wait for Cauvery water in CMC layouts, Aladdin waited.. and watched.
A gal dressed in blue jeans and t-shirt was swearing at the gatekeepers. Oh no , then it seemed like she was talking to herself, then she was again cursing the timings. Apparently she was late to the Passport office and was not to happy about the system and timings in place. She a girly red watch with a thick red strap that caught my attention. She provided some entertainment in the self proclaimed Aladdin’s wait for the Princess Jasmine. Finally the gal realized that she was now the centre of attraction, she smiled sheepishly and left , I caught her attention for a split second , in an eye-to-eye glance where we quickly exchanged an empathetic look, to be cut short by both of us looking away with raised eyebrows and zipped mouth. Her, Aladdin decided to christen as Ms .Little Red Rowdy hood.
Aladdin had not told his mother that he was going out with Princess Jasmine and she would think he was in college as usual. Nor had he told his Genie. Even as thoughts to getting time out with Princess excited Aladdin, his non disclosure to mom and the genie disturbed him. Aladdin was brought back to the busy street outside the passport complex from his day dreams, as Princess Jasmine stepped out in a hurry to cross the road.
Now he was hopeful, she was thankful.
As they took a walk on the busy streets, cracking jokes , exchanging views , giggling …. Aladdin had his passport to paradise. Sheer Bliss !
As they strolled by the possible eateries on M.G road, Canopy, Ebony it reminded Aladdin was he was on a fast that day in remembrance of his dad. Also that he had to wind up from paradise and reach home soon.
Part 3
Who are you?
Aladdin calls up his Genie, to tell him that he too has now mastered the Magic carpet skills. His Genie although happy to have him as an apprentice, was curious about whom he had helped out. Aladdin told that it was Jasmine as though she were just some gal and diverted the Genie with the funny tale of Ms .Little Red Rowdy hood. Aladdin also added a bit more elaborate description of her mannerisms, her red watch just to engage his Genie fully in this topic. Far far away from Princess Jasmine..
Aladdin is me.
After the phone call , I was exhausted but content. Was happy about the whole day.
All I had to do was have a quiet entry and good nights sleep.
At that time, I lived in a building that housed 7 apartments and a Music school.
The owner of the building was a musician with several interests like construction, travel, quality leisure and sports.He had installed a brand new table tennis stand and three seated Iron swing with soft cushions , in front of our house on the ground floor for common use for all the inmates of his building .
That night as I pulled open the Huge Metal Gates of the building to get in , I saw my mom at the door about 10 yards from the gate , chatting with a lady who stayed upstairs .
I casually closed the gates behind me and looked to the right, beyond the table tennis stand.
I simply could not believe my eyes, sitting right in the centre seat of the Iron swing, swinging in a mellow rhythm, with eyes locked on me , the intruder ,was none other than Ms .Little Red Rowdy hood!!
“Who are you?” She asked.
I rebutted, “What are you doing here? I stay here”.
“She’s my niece, do you know her? “said the lady who stayed upstairs.
Ms .Little Red Rowdy hood quickly added “Oh I am sorry!”
I had to sum up all my senses, the red watch!!
My eyes were searching her arms for the red watch, if its her then she will have the watch.
And there it was , the fancy red watch , with big red strap on a pretty wrist. It was indeed Ms .Little Red Rowdy hood.
My mind was brimming with questions.
Did she need a passport to come to my place?
Does my mom know i bunked classes and went to the passport office that too for my friend?
Who gave her the stupid watch?
Am I hallucinating?
Is mom going to be cold and angry with me?
Will have to fast the rest of my life?
Is this gal a spy?
….
“Do you know each other?” My mom cleared my mind with this final question.
“Yes, I think I saw her at the passport office “, I looked at her with my eyebrows begging her to add some lines…
“Yes yes,” She added, then she introduced herself to me and left with her aunt bidding us goodnight !
Phew that was a close shave.
I took excuse of my mom, ran non-stop for about 200 meters to the local telephone booth, had to shout my lungs out about the appearance of Ms .Little Red Rowdy hood to my Princess and my Genie know about the strange twist in the story. Both of them were very excited and surprised with the coincidence. My Genie was along strangely quiet, letting the reality set in.
My take on this: If you don’t stay in a lamp, then leave the job to a Genie!
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