"You're hired"

"Please take a seat." Amrita did. She was taking no chance this time. She had brought everything she had - every shred of paper and plastic documenting her life.

She had gone to lengths no one else possibly would. Amrita had sat her mother down and asked her to rummage through the past. "What questions was I asked during my Jr. KG interview?" She wanted to be thorough. And that made her the ideal candidate.

The interviewer's uniform and badge intimidated her. She knew she couldn’t afford to stumble. She took a deep breath and braced herself for his question.

"What would you consider is your ideal destination after the next 30 minutes?"

Stymied, she was. It was make-or-brake time. She shut her eyelids and rolled her eyes around, as if searching within herself. And then she opened them.

"I have complete faith in your judgment in deciding my destination for me."

She had hit the proverbial sweet spot. Shivram Ghate turned the meter down.

"Bandra it is!"

Fruits

Sarvesh knew it was inevitable. He'd been screaming himself hoarse for months now, advocating this absurd change. He believed it was just the sort of thing that would bring everyone back from their commercial stupor.


Mudit agreed, raising all 28 phalanges. Phones on sale on a street cart? "What a wonderful thought!" Everyone could get one. Bargaining wars on the horizon. "No more MRP!" He was jubilant.


Sagar shared his elder brother's enthusiam. He was also the more proactive one among the two. When he heard Sarvesh talk on about the 'changes', he cut through the ambiguity, donned his MBA cap and opened a fruit store. Whether it was Sarvesh's sermons or his own orientation that decided this move, it didn't matter.


Boxed products they were now, fruits - replete with instruction manuals, warranties and seals of authenticity.


It was all for naught though. Last Friday, Sarvesh entered Sagar's store, unboxed an apple and found a bug. He subsequently converted to nonvegetarianism and bought a street cart along with 200 kilos of mobile phones.

Mudit wept.

pity the fool

Mukul insisted. He wanted Shriram to sit and watch the goods while he washed his feet in the grimy puddles nestled among the rocks that separated them from the vast sea.

"I'll only be a minute," he left; his flipflops marching on in his wake.

Shriram craned his neck to watch where Mukul ventured while watching the goods with his peripheral vision. The murder of crows circled above Shriram. He was fidgety. A couple of kids nearby appeared to nonchalantly document his every move.

The crows came closer. He clutched the blue plastic cover tightly; he was a stark contrast to the serene scene around him.

Mukul was now relieving himself; Shriram himself was close to a physical breakdown. The phantom fear was completely holding him captive. A sudden breeze and he was convinced the elements had conspired to bare his deepest, darkest secret.

He turned around to see the same 2; the girl was drawing furiously while the boy threw another shifty glance before he dove back into his notebook.

Shriram looked back and found Mukul staring at him point blank.

"Fool! Crows like fish. Didn't I tell you to watch the goods?"