One Cuppa Chai

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Chapter 11

(Ab)Normal Indifference

After being showered with some love by my mother, I'd finally taken it upon myself to see if I'd been admitted to a college or not. Scribbling my father's mail ID and password in a scrawny piece of paper, I pushed it deep into my pockets, hearing my mother muttering about what a couch potato I had become.

 It's amusing, I always was.

She just noticed.

 As I walked down the stairs, I was hit by a tantalizing fragrance of complex non-vegetarian cooking from the next block. I yawned and stretched myself like a cat. 

My skin felt warm. The heat of the day was a matter of concern because I knew that my city was never one to be of human roasting temperature. Maybe it was this global warming phenomenon that was finally going to snuff out the world like I was prophesying.

 As I walked out, I peered into Kabir's window habitually. It was a prudent, rectangular-shaped window, accentuated by rusted black rods and pale curtains.

 I could distinctly make out the ceramic washbasin from the far end of their living room. Generally, it was empty or Saloni would be aggressively scrubbing her face with soap.  

But that time, he was standing by the sill, unaware of my ogling. He ran his fingers through his hair and then messed it up. Then he squirted something in his palm and smoothed it down into his locks. And then messed it up. It was a never-ending cycle.

I shouldn't have got excited and called out his name but I did because I'm an idiot. I didn't think I hollered loud enough for it to be audible to the second floor anyway. He was unaffected. Checked his reflection one last time and disappeared. 

When another shadow threateningly loomed in the background, I stealthily slid away.

Generally, it was Siya and me who visited the internet café to pretend to do something important and play Mario for an hour instead. 

In the weekends, the café was crowded with boys and their controllers, uttering war cries periodically. The only acquaintance who had a proper dialup connection that rivalled this place was the D'Souza clan, but I didn't want to pop into their house every time just because I could.

I removed my sandals and stepped in through the sliding doors. Got a mini heart attack when a teenager screamed in agony at his screen.

The store owner was unaffected.

He locked his gaze with me questioningly. I fumbled into my pockets for the paper. I retrieved what I found. I took it out victoriously. 

It was a WWE collection tattoo. Undertaker in underwear.

He was not amused.

I pulled out the other contents in my pocket. A tazo, chewing gum wrappers, click pencil, tattoos...I began to segregate them while he sighed and bent down to switch on the computer. The broadband was good, the web page began to load and I waited patiently. There were flaps on either side of my seat dividing my booth from the other customers.

He rose from the chair for me to sit down when I  succeeded in my search for the chit. In a few minutes, the entire mail welcome page furnished before me and I typed in the box and waited. I hovered over the inbox page and after 15 advertisements, I found it. A straightforward message that they were accepting his daughter in the law degree just because they had a corner in the classroom to spare for an unambitious twit.