Coming To Age

Okay so the guy in front of me is gone, so that would mean it was my turn now… right? Wrong. You forget the person who had managed to slip the queue and end up right next to the person in-charge. Ya such elements kill sportsmanship! Then there was the guy who was in the other queue but his records didn’t show up there so he needs to cut in to some other queue – unfortunately mine. And you think he will let things go smoothly, no way. He has to wait till the very last moment till he is asked for cash and then fish out some money from under his dhoti, I meant from his shorts… I still don’t figure out the funda behind wearing your dhoti over some shorts if all you need is available within/ in the shorts (sic); and to think you have to lift your dhoti all the way up in a public place, sheesh!

Well if you think I am going to pay up now. Boy, are you dumb or what? You forgot the auto-waala, who decides time’s up for me and and comes to my queue demanding his pay. After I used up all my negotiation skills and kept him at bay for another five minutes, I finally managed to poke my hand through the counter and wave the bill and cash to the man sitting in the counter; ya I know how sweet that sounds. I managed it finally, but of course he didn’t hand over the bill to me just like that.

You know his third cousin brother’s childhood friend’s distant relative decided to call him up at the exact time when I was in front of the line. Man life can get frustrating, trust me. But not as frustrating as the time, when you have to hear the sermons of a frustrated auto-waala on how to pay your EB bills all the way back home! Of course, in the end, your mom’s astonished stare saying ‘how did you manage that?’ makes up for all your troubles and bad times.

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