The first 2 hours of your day

The first 2 hours of your day

Some fiction for a change. I am counting the number of people in a bad/sad mood.

You get up in the morning; curse the short sleep, bad dream, whatever (1). Get ready for work, in the process mess up the stack of clothes roomie had kept, forget to order some drinking water in the hurry (2). You rush down the stairs and almost bang into the old lady from 1st floor whose son is in the US hasn’t called her since a month (3). Zoom past the nepali watchman (4), walking briskly towards the bus stop. You get onto the bus brooding like a villain from a Z grade movie. There are the usual passengers, the new mother who never gets any appreciation from home nor office, the manager fast approaching 50’s yet unable to afford a decent flat, the group of four Keralite bachelors - some of whose fathers and brothers have come back from the gulf after they lost their jobs – you wish they stopped their yapping in Malayalam, the urban hotshot whose parents live in the same city but prefers to live alone and is worried about his credit card loans and the quite girl from the village who never speaks to anyone because she dosent have any confidence to have a long conversation (lets say 12 so far). You sit in the last bench. The bus driver has a really bad time negotiating through the traffic. It’s a deadlock. Not a single vehicle is moving from its place at the intersection. Everyone wants to be the first one out of the mess, is causing the mess. There is an ambulance wailing at a distance (almost 32). 2 hours up.

32 people minimum are in a bad/sad mood. Probably half of them (optimistically) will become happy in the other part of the day, for the other half it might be another forgettable day.

You get up in the morning, thankful for a new hale and healthy day. Get ready for work with nothing bad on your mind to bother you. You remind roomie to call up his sister to wish her luck for her exams. He also calls for the water to be delivered that night from the shop. You head down the stairs and meet the lady from 1st floor and ask her whether her left knee injury had subsided. She said it was getting better and in the evening she expects you to come to her house for some puja sweets. You tip the watchman as it festival time, which means he can send some money for new clothes for his new born daughter in his village. You board the bus with a bright smile. The bus was filled with comments on your goofy new yellow shirt which was so bright it could land planes. The new mother jokes that the shirt will drive away all your girl friends, she feels 5 years younger already. You congratulate the manager about his account getting an award. The Keralite guys ask you exactly who is the younger of Kareena and Karishma and offer you some coconut chips, of which they have a ton stocked at home. The packet of chips makes rounds of the bus making its way to the driver. They start discussing in Malayalam how you look like a comedian in a certain regional film. You nod like a similar fool in agreement with the conversation you cant understand which they explain later after a good laugh. Hotshot asks what might be a good bike for him so that he can go back to living with his parents while keeping some of his freedom intact. ‘How much maximum HRA component can we declare in the tax declaration?’ was the question out of nowhere from the quite girl who usually wouldn’t have asked anyone. You spend 5 minutes on explaining the details. In the background at the intersection, the driver senses a deadlock and stops for the other drivers to cross the intersections. Drivers of some of the other bigger vehicles see him slowing down and sense the same and wait for the smaller vehicles to go. The bus driver meanwhile finishes the packet of chips. Everybody reaches office in a good or better mood that day. They all greet the pantry guy who makes the worst possible tea, except that day they all had the best tea after lunch from the same guy.

How would you like spending the first 2 hours of your day?