That
day we went to the city
The
night before the trip I was seriously inconvenienced during my
sleeping period by several mosquitoes making a feast of my blood and
their home in my room. At about 5:45 I devised a solution, wrapping
the thin bed linen tight around my body like a caterpillar, which
finally allowed a few hours of sleep. This was a rather insufficient
amount of time.
On
coming to, I felt how one mosquito had had the audacity to sting me
on the lower lip, grim tidings for the day to come?
I
crawled on to the bus and found a nice seat at the back. It wasn’t
long till I was merrily drifting in and out of sleep. I remember only
a series of sounds and visions: the smell of Timian, the color
purple, a side walk in Lithuania. During this time I also found
myself in a vast field of cacti expanding seemingly endless in all
directions. Needless to say I was puzzled by this. Narendra
Modi, God and two other women where there. They were picnicking in a
small clearing in the field and had only just sad down, after playing
a fun, but somewhat exhausting, game of Croquet. Modi was laying with
his head in gods lap, as god was petting his beard he purred like a
cat.
When
the bus stopped at majestic, we took autos to the offices of
M.Bhaktavasala in Gandhi nagar. He was situated in an
office of small to medium size. His office desk featured a buzzer
with which he could call to his assistance an older gentleman. He
would frequently do so, often regarding the location of various
articles. He spoke at length about topics including; the role of
song and dance in Indian cinema and the intricacies of the
geographic sub-divisions of cinema in the subcontinent.
The wall behind him featured, among
other paraphernalia, a large collection of books. I remember among
them; Winston Churchill, Alexander Dumas, Dickens and a book on
Hitchcock written by Francois
Truffaut, the title was; “Hitchcock”, of whom I just now seem to
recall haven it written on his Gravestone: “-Thus for naughty
little boys..”. For lunch I had butter chicken.
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