I wish I could kick the habit of talking to myself.
No,this is not an attempt at attaining there-are-voices-and-people-peopling-my-brain cooldom.See,these are real people I'm talking about.But imaginary conversations.In which I absolutely sparkle with wit and humour and manage to come up with the most amazing comebacks ever.Most often,these are extended,glow-rious versions of real conversations.Sometimes the sheer brilliance of my too-late repartee amazes me to such an extent that I break off in the middle and start grinning,and keep grinning.Ei je- :D
So back to yesterday.Here I was returning from college,and I got out of the building elevator.While closing the doors,I hadn't realised due to the level of my involvement,that I'd become audible.And there was a building kakima who had lumbered up behind me.
When I turned around,my mouth hung open mid-syllable.She looked elaborately around and over my shoulders and,with a rather angelic smile,said-'Hoe hoe,ei shob boyesh-e'.
But perhaps someday I'll write a book where I'll put in all my ideas andandand become famous for them.Like how,at the highest point of the Gariahat flyover,if you look carefully,you can see it tapering down and meeting the Golpark ground up ahead.And for all the world,the red-and-white striped railing looks like the long neck of a freak-of-the-nature candycane brontosaurus.And then these lumbersome people would talk about how brilliant I always was,instead of passing me off as some kind of a potential teenage delinquent.
But you'd probably be more interested in the red-and-white cotton confections sold at Archies for Valentine's Day.So too bad.I'll never get to gloat over the kakimas.