I asked him first of course, and he asked me, "Why?"
"Em ni." No reason. I shrugged my shoulders for effect.
He grimly nodded, and neither he nor his friend moved an inch. It was perfect. No rushing to pose together, no 'action-action'.
I walked off after saying thank you, and I heard him call me from behind. I turned around. He beckoned me over with his finger. I cannot remember the last time I obeyed such a command. Anyone else, I would have walked off.
Thus began the usual interrogation. He told me he had been to Singapore when the British was there. Sadly, I couldn't understand much of anything else he said. I wonder how he became blind in one eye. Cataracts? I couldn't ask. I didn't know the Bangla word for it.
His friend, perched high in a rickshaw, never moved from his position. Only once, to wave his hand to shoo off a curious boy that came too close.
A cold spell has hit, something about depression over the Bay of Bengal. The pressure's been wonky all night, and I woke up at 6 am in the morning because my door kept banging open-shut-open-shut.
The electric cables across the street from my office has just exploded with a fiery bang twice. And as a result of watching too many Jason Statham action-bang-bang movies (5-in-1 for your convenience!) last night, I heard him say in my head "Cut the power to the whole block." in that trying-a-bit-too-hard-to-be-gruff voice.
I don't know what's happening, but I know there's a short circuit involved somewhere. Some dude's leaning out of the window with a fire extinguisher trying to put out the burning wires.
And I saw the list of Oscar Nominees, and now feel much regret that I never made it through my discount-copy of McEwan's Atonement that I picked up at some library book sale years ago. I like watching movies based on books I've read.
I tried. It just never hooked me. Maybe I only like the Brit writers that come from the north.
