Cigarettes.

Put this up on FB already, but just so I do justice to the blog-

After an extremely uninteresting lecture of math, my friends stopped at a roadside tapri for their daily quota of smokes. I bought my cutting chai and watched them exhale grey matter into the already polluted air.

All of a sudden, I was reminded of Bhanuj's words. "I've always wanted to ask a paanwaala about how he feels of selling death to people."

And so I did the needful.

He said, "I sell death so it doesn't lay it's hands on my folks. You should ask your friends how they feel of paying for death. 5 rupees per installment."

I didn't ask.

End.

Why Pune rickshaw-wallahs are Androids from a parallel universe.

Alright, so I've been meaning to do this since a while. I go to Pune twice a year and I can't help but notice the fact that the rickshaw-wallahs there are not human.

Reasons-

1) They charge you an amount which would be much relevant in the future. (like considering all the fares rising thing)
2) They don't listen to you. They make you feel like you aren't a customer, but you're just some pile of meat stacked in the back seat.
3)  They don't give a shit if it's a one way.
4) They get into the one way and refuse to budge even if a huge truck shows up from the correct direction. You feel like you're in The Terminator 2 and the guyin front of you is Arnold.
5) They don't give a shit if the traffic signal shows any colour whatsoever.
6) They don't give a shit if you are crossing the road.
7) They don't give a shit.
8) They can look through you.

*shudders*

Beat?

He lies on the ground. Motionless. Beat. Gusty winds sweep the sand across his face. The sun's rays blaze upon him. Everything around him starts fading away in the intense heat. Perhaps evaporating. Maybe this is what will happen to him. He'll fade away, just like the rest.

He tries to stand up. He can't. He's beat. He thinks he needs help. Perhaps someone would just come around and help him stand. He just waits for that to happen.

He can see someone approaching. At last, some help. He gathers all his energy and extends his hand. But no hand holds his in return. The person comes and simply walks by. He loses all hope and his hand falls back to the ground. He lies there, still.

All hope's lost. The heat's growing intense. He is going to fade away just like the rest. He closes his eyes. He can see nothing but darkness. But within that darkness, he can see some light. Memories flash in front of his closed eyes.

Enter realization. He was living on baseless hopes. There is no help, no care. You make yourself, you shape yourself.

And suddenly, there is an adrenaline rush. He can feel the energy. He tries to get up. He fails and falls. He tries again and stands up. He wipes the sand of his face and starts walking. Gradually, he increases his pace. He starts running. Faster than he ever had. And then, he smiles. Because he isn't beat anymore. But in fact, he's beat himself.