This journalism internship is a blessing in disguise. There’s something about having to travel to places in the city I’ve never even heard of that’s become oddly therapeutic.
My little world filled with English medium school products has started to get increasing grating. I can’t put my finger on it, maybe I fear a world where everyone’s the same, where everyone understands you, where everyone speaks the same language.
But enough about that let’s get to the latest character I met, an auto guy who just oozed eccentricity. We met him while we were trying to make it back to our office from this saxophone concert. He was the only one in a stream of autos who agreed to head that way.
The three of us hardly had the time to make ourselves comfortable when he did something akin to a cowboy walking into a bar and shooting at the roof. “What is going on here?” he asked in a accent that betrayed his north Indian origin. It was clear that he had by-hearted the dialogue. We released a collective “eh?” and he said something else none of us understood. But he didn’t have to say anything else, the line seemed to get the desired effect. I felt like one of those generic villains who get’s tossed aside after the hero delivers a punchline. He grinned.
We looked at each other and nodded our heads; we were impressed. It was not a question to be answered or rationalized, it had a meaning of it’s own coming from him. While we continued as extras in his personal movie he began singing. He wasn’t very loud and I’m no judge of voices but he sang well. I think it was a Hindi song. I hoped he’d do other interesting things but the song was all he cared about.
When we got there he became the smiling hero who delivers a joke before the credits roll. He asked us for a rupee. Just a rupee more so he could fill his gas tank.