Now you know why I wake up confused? These dreams, sometimes are such distractions that I tend to concentrate, focus and work on these distractions so much that distractions are no more distractions; daily chores become a distraction, and somebody stealing my newspaper becomes a distraction to my distractions that it is no more a distraction but a daily chore, until it fucked up my mind and became a daily whore. Right? Anyway, who steals my newspaper from my door? When I asked my newspaper guy about this, he made a ‘Barbie’ out of his face, and asked with leaking innocence – “ Why would a newspaper guy steal a newspaper, sir?” Though that didn’t make any sense, I thought I should give him the benefit of doubt. So, then, who? I had to strike out Sreesanth from the top of the list because I must confess, with age I have become wiser and I realize that it only makes sense that my next door neighbour seemed more likely.
Being a bachelour neighbour to a family is never easy. I mean, I’m not a rapist, I was’t attending any of Osama’s board meetings, I wasn’t the Joker in ‘Dark Knight ’ either, yet they treat me like that. I walk out of the door, the ladies of the house grab their children and run indoors and the man of the house stares at me like Officer Pradyuman. So, in that case, how do I gain the courage and actually open my mouth to ask them- “Did you steal my newspaper?” For all I know, an army of commandoes might land up, surround the apartment with one guy screaming his lungs out to the speaker- “Where's Osama, Arjun? ” and me screaming out- "He's dead bastard" before a bullet enters private property. So, can’t gather my balls together; hence I refrain. It must be Sreesanth only.
Well, thinking hard, I come up with another lady contender; the lady who picks up garbage, more sweetly known as the ‘Garbage lady’. The very first day in this flat, she almost kicked me out of sleep with a long press on the door bell. I opened the door to her, and I suddenly got an eerie feeling that I’ve seen her crying on Star Plus. Anyway, she asked me, as if politeness just bungee jumped out of her head and went for a stroll – “Naya hai kya?” I gave her a dumb ‘Yes’, by that I turned the key to her ‘dadagiri’. She informed that the dry waste and the liquid waste should be kept separate, else she will bring a group of ten and stuff my broken pieces into gunny bags. Not really, she threatened me with a Rs. 200 fine. Since then, every time I bump into her, I give her that sheepish ‘See-I-kept-it-separate-na’ look. So, basically I can’t think of questioning her if she is stealing my newspaper. It’s definitely Sreesanth.
Well, like the nurse, I must maybe stop being an owl, wake up early, maybe paint myself like zebras and keep a secret vigil. Nah! I’m pretty sure it’s Sreesanth!