Three Days and Three Nights: III

---

February 29, 2008

Lost up in work, had little time to look up. As a matter of fact, wore the same dress to work. Was busy the whole day (odds n’ ends, but… work). So when I returned there was a surprise.

But first, the course of the day.

Returning from work: Baby.

Baby was sleeping soundly at 1710 when I returned from work. She was sleeping peacefully, arms and legs all placed naturally, and she looked pleased. R asked me if B had suggested anything about the payment. She hadn’t, and I said no. R wanted change, amounting to Rs 50, and when I gave her a banknote she was somewhat displeased. I got it immediately, and I gave her the change. ‘The folks in the bus won’t give us change, you see…’ And she was off.

B returns. S advises B to leave the bonnet open.

B makes porridge for baby.

I leave for ITC. But first, I got to ICH. The entrance on the east side is clocked by a truck which is loading float glass engraved with the IOB logo (the three diamonds, IOB-style). The labourers discuss various stratagems. I worm through a possible opening and find myself in the passage. As I go down the stairs, I notice a young child (female, wearing a blue silk dress) with her Mom in the Idukki Spices store. (On my way back, I would note that the store is in complete darkness.)

At ICH, I have to wait a bit. I exchange my place for a par of young software engineers who look dumb enough and glad enough. Toothache is severe, otherwise I had a mind to consume banana fry. But I can’t; I settle for a coffee first. Coffee is served promptly, when I tell the waiter I also need MCx2. (Now this order would take forever, in which time a lot of things transpire).

A slight altercation: a disgruntled customer, having waited long for service, finally striding up to the manager and giving him a piece of his mind, before walking back and reoccupying his seat. He wore greyish shoes with a pair of khaki trousers and a matching tee. Spectacled and about 35, his hair was greying. He had company, but I didn’t notice them.

I give an order for an MO for B; the parcel doesn’t arrive even after ten minutes. For the time being, I tuck into the cutlets. But first, I have to do it royal-style, so I just walk around and get myself a salt cellar and a pepper sprinkler. I settle down to work.

The cutlets are freshly made, but that’s the problem: the mash is fresh, the potatoes are dry, and broken up drily. Instead of a juicy succulence (which is often accompanied by a slightly burning flavour), what I am left with is an obviously freshly baked cutlet with a very raw taste of potatoes. I try to make the best of it. I succeed for the most part, but occasionally, when I get too absorbed in the food, the burnt taste cuts back.

Since it had arrived earlier, I’d started on the coffee first. The coffee was somewhat watered-down but drinkable. I finish and am relieved: I am well in time. It’s only 18:45. There’s a jolly half-hour to get back home.

Through the circuit, I shop at Spencers and eject myself with a bottle of Pediasure®. ‘Three-eighty.’ I’d taken out 370, and I add another ten-rupee note. ‘Three-eight-seven,’ says the sales clerk, and indicates to the display. I feel like an idiot, because I’ve been buying this for ages and I know how much it costs. But on days like these…nothing really clicks.

At ITC, cleaned up the things. Finalized and consolidated.

Then, at 1910, I remember that I have forgotten something. As I leave, HRC joins me on the way out, and he asks me if I’m going straight home. I tell him no; I have left something at ICH, I have to go back.

I execute a rather tricky demi on the ‘bike and launch myself on the road; I see him walking past on the other side, after crossing the road. Curiously, he has taken the stairs up to the road and is now walking back; he must have procured some veggies from the roadside vendor.

I storm back to ICH. The truck is now gone, the loading must have been over. I am greeted by a quizzical smile. I inform him of my quandary. ‘What was it?’ I tell him. With a blank expression he nods to the small packet which I’d seen on the counter (I knew. Today the packaging was square, meaning the fare was lean on the mutton.)
**

B tucks into the MO. She notices that the package is square and lean (usually it is rolled long and fat).

Baby is out with the grandparents.

---

Though this be half-baked, I present this, the concluding part of the three nights series. It's merely a sketch and I am now sufficiently far away, ravaged by the time and the injuries and sufferings in between that I have no reason to believe that I would ever finish this with any acceptable degree of polish. This to flecks of dust, which are everywhere.