A Day in the Life: Bookshopping Sunday

I’m glad I got out; don’t care if I get worse. Stupid viral would just make me miserable if I stayed indoors all day today. This girl is really nice, but so lost in her own dreamworld. If I was just a little more lesbian I might be interested in her. I’m glad she doesn’t want to talk much either. We don’t know each other at all, come to think of it; but how could I say no:

- I’m going to Daryaganj, want to come?
- Oh. When? I’m not too well, I don’t know.
- About eleven. I don’t know, maybe just rest today.
- Ya, I don’t know.
Do you have company?
- No.


***

Oh shit where is this bus going. Come on. I’ve taken the same one before. Stops near that cinema theatre. Bang in the middle of the books. You pass booksbooksbooks, lining the street before the bus stops. Where is it all? Why on earth are we passing Rajghat?
Oh it’s the other end, is it. She’s least bothered. Good. She doesn’t care. Lovely. Dreamworld is good.

***

How desperate am I man. Daryaganj. No, I can’t buy clothes here. Not that Sarojini Nagar is much better. Bloody hell. She’s such a chhooimui type. She’ll think I’m some bum on the street if I buy clothes here.

- Hey, these look good…
- [YAY]


***

CHAI! Yes! O my god, just what I needed.
Do chai dena yaar. Mathri bachi hai?
I’m trying to blend.
She eats that thing, what is it called...Cheese twist or whatever. Yuck. That crispy thing that makes crumbs all over your clothes.

***

[There’s this distinctly chor-bazaar-ish display of goods at the end of the market.]

- Yeh kitne ka hai?

She wants to buy the fish-lamp. The plastic 80s art-deco piece of shit, a broken fish-tail lampshade. Weird.

- I don’t know you. You want to buy this thing, don’t you.
- Maybe when I have a house of my own.

***

I don’t even want to buy anything. So many books already waiting to be read...

***

- Emily Dickinson!
- You know, I had this thing for her once; you know she’s the kind of writer you pick up in the library and just end up reading on and on for hours...
- I know, same here...
- What’s that one, um...
“A word is dead...”
- “When it is said,
Some say. I say it just...”
- Begins to live
That day.”

***

- What’s that?
- I don’t know, go ask.
- Bhaiyya, yeh kya hai? [- Naankhataai]
- Really? Not like the ones I’ve eaten in Lucknow...
- Yeh kaise banta hai, Bhaiyya? [- Aapke saamne banaa to raha hoon Madam]

[He was making tiny bakery-biscuit sized cakes and heating them on a makeshift tandoor heated by coals on his tthela.
They were absolutely delicious.]

***

Jama Masjid ke liye Madam aap to galat side aa gayeen.

[Chhodo. Next time.]

***

Home, hungry, tired, more broke than before; back to hostel in time to catch leftover Maggi and tepid chai.

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