The Third person

Just for the effect, Antaheen’s soundtrack played somewhere in the background. She deliberately placed her Ipod docking station in the bath, to hear a faint trace of ‘Pherari mon’ . Her organic Tulsi Cha was hot and ready in her favourite white pot and the Facebook window on her laptop was closed.

She opens the draft. Looks dreamily out of the window and stares at the trees. The leaves she noticed were slowly turning a sad autumn orange. Why did she have to look at it sadly? That was her. Vague. Repressive of upbeat emotions. Getting back to what she had set out to do, she returns her glassy stare from the window to her laptop screen. She minimizes the doc. A brilliant blue, orange and white image of Ladakh stares into her face. A picture from Flickr. She returned her gaze back to the window and this time saw a little drizzle. She instinctively drew the sides of her sweater, closer and poured some tea into a cup. She wondered where the Tulsi had come from. Made a mental note to plant one in the empty pot lying in the garage, over the weekend.  She moved the curser to maximize the Word file. She saw a lot of words, inverted commas and exclamations. But could read nothing. She kept gazing at the screen….

 

Ok, tell me, does talking in third person glamorize my image? :D :D :D

So darned bored, I can’t tell you fellas. Besides, Mrs Melancholy is home. Hope her visit is brief. Atithi, tum kab jaoge?

(And you thought this was a pati patni aur woh type of post eh, rascals!)