One Sunday morning while munching on a diet breakfast of coffee and one toast, suitably cremated by an overeager maid, I decided to let the mind wander.
It was that sort of a day. The sky was blue, the grass green and birds chirped away in the distance. Yes, everything seemed perfect in God’s Own World.
The mind had entered into first gear, the eye flitting between wakefulness and feeling comatose.
After touching on various topics like Indian cricket, Trump’s hairstyle, merits of cow urine and Darwin’s theory of evolution, I suddenly went into fourth gear. My focus fell on the first page of the newspaper in front on me. The headline “Joblessness surges in January” caught my eye.
This sent a shockwave through the entire system. No jobs eh?
I had just quit a cushy job which entailed opening the computer and basically pretending to work for about eight hours with an added hour or two if the boss was around. This simple principle had served me well over the years. I was told that seeing is more important that the value of work for some bosses.
However, this kind of stuff was boring to the utmost and those extra hours of pretence was killing. I had stretched my imagination to the limit – from thinking about a torrid affair with Deepika Padukone, becoming a pilot, playing golf to dyeing my hair blond and becoming the next president of the US.
So one rainy day I quit, leaving a major hole in the pocket and living on the hope that things will fall into place. Now four months down the line, the finances are depleting quickly and may have to contemplate sacking the maid and living on Maggie noodles and soup.
This was not appealing at all. Being a foodie and a big one at that, this thought sent shivers down the spine. Lord, what wrong have I done to deserve such a fate? You could have chosen some skinny, skull and bones gent whose love for food did not extend beyond rice and curds.
The morning began to seem rather dull now. The shadows of unemployment were doing the jive in front of my eye. All that serenity had been blown away and despondency set in. Then I chanced upon another item where a famous politician claimed making pakodas was also a job.
Now I must confess that pakodas are right on top my list of foods which are to be relished.
Others may see pakodas as just a thing to be had as a mid-meal. For me it was a thing of joy, the shapeless potato-filled snack a meal fit for the king. I made up my mind. If that politician says it, then it must be the truth.
So here I am, sitting in the sun round the corner, selling pakodas and cursing the day I quit my job.