85. So it’s Sunday and I am in a bajaj

So it’s Sunday in I am in a bajaj…

This story is shaping up to be quite interesting. I mean: how often do I get to be in that situation?

Well, umm, every week?!

Are you writing this thing or what? 👿

Okay okay …. So I was in a bajaj, on  a Sunday …

You have already said that 👿 👿 Do you realize that  a big part of your life has been spent on repeating stuff? Conservative estimate-26 years?

This guy also gets on the bajaj with his friend. And suddenly he is all over me: he is practically sitting on my right pocket- the blood as well as the mobile side. He apologizes for the inconvenience.

What’s the matter homes? This is a standard bajaj-like there was any other kind- and you are not that buff. Either you are gay or a thief.

What if my mobile got stolen? I was thinking that that would cap a perfectly shitty weekend; a weekend in which things like the shaver going dead in the middle of business-and you guessed it, we were teregna– happened.

He starts talking about an accident that happened last night and about the causalities. I try to look interested.

Kelbe alwededewim ::

They say weraj midway.

By the way, I have realized that bajaj rhymes with weraj.

So much for your epiphany .Would you finish your “story” already?

Just when they get off and are paying the driver, I decide to check my pockets. And…

You know, Murphy’s Law should be right up there with the laws of Thermodynamics and Kinetics, governing happenings.

I too get off. You know, I remove myself from the bajaj, unsure just what to do next

I think I was about to say something, something to the effect of “ehh… yikrta . mobilen serkachihugnal? …. I was just wandering….”, when the encroaching guy says “mobilhin tilehal !” and points at the bajaj seat. The phone was calling.

Here is what I think happened. He steals it and tries to get away. Gin ene wendu

Mobilun asrekbo ene wendu yibalilgnal degmo!

Gin ene kebajaju, with a courage and cluelessness fit for a wend, weredku. When he saw the fire in my eyes, he decided it was in his best interest to return the good; sneak it somehow onto the seats. And maybe the phone started calling and he was afraid that- though it was on vibration mode-it would start ringing and give him away.

Moral of the story is: let the dead bury their dead; mind your phone.

BOOOOO! I wish it had remained stolen.

Man what the fuck is your problem?

YOU! You are my problem!

Fair enough. Let me one this thing up and we will see who will be blogging here: you or me!


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. betty
    Jul 14, 2009 @ 19:30:43

    Ok I am enjoying the other dude who is interrupting the story.

    Sunday on a Bajaj… what were you doing out in town?
    So you are losing your phone all over the place now… Samiye is rubbing of his “lib mersat ” I see… ” He kept losing his phone but the funniest part of all is the way he kept losing his eyeglass…” but then again this is not ” lib mersat,” it was ye leba sira.. I am glad you didnot lose it … Abrenih benebern noro… afinchawin neber yeminlew… defar alemeslim….

    I am sure the other dude is saying will you be done already?

    Fine fine.., I am done talking.


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