“Who gives a shit?”
“I do”
“I don’t give a shit”
“Fine, don’t. I give a shit though”
“I don’t give a shit. Fuck you and don’t talk to me ever again”
“Fine then, have a great life. Take care. Call me in case you need any help in the future”, so saying Sins turned around and left, a sense of calm and serenity engulfing him, because he had just broken up with his girlfriend of two months, in the most nicest way possible, something he hadn’t been sure of when he was thinking about it for the past few weeks. Sadly, it hadn’t worked out, in spite of all his sincere efforts to understand her values and principles that she lived life by. He hadn’t been able to connect after the first few weeks of dating together. Though, they had hung on, and the sex had been great, wild and passionate as he liked it, it didn’t make sense to continue, for him. He wanted a deeper connection, something intellectually stimulating, beautiful and meaningful.
The trouble was, he had been meeting a lot of people lately, who didn’t give two hoots about meaningful relationships, their days whisking and drifting away in casual consumerism and small talk, that largely consisted of personal belittling and gossip, which irked him to the core, his exterior largely choosing to stay silent during such conversations, before being told off later to contribute once in a while, to which he would scornfully reply saying he wasn’t needed because nothing meaningful or valued had been gained from such talks, and they might as well have the spent the time watching cartoon network.
Sins walked slightly morosely, trudging back to his home, an accommodation he had begun detesting lately, due to the high handedness of his landlord, who kept asking him irksome questions like what he was up to late at night to keep the lights on and as to why he would come back home post twelve a.m most nights, to which Sins would ask him politely to mind his own business. The man was an old bugger, still stuck in the throes of his generation where freedom had been restricted for his ilk, their irritation at the younger generations frothing their strut independently bothering them to some extent, no doubt. He wondered what sort of questions he was asking the women, who inhabited an apartment of his a few feet away.
Resisting the urge for a cigarette, Sins diverted his thoughts by thinking about what exercises he would perform at the gym the next morning. The craving was gone after a minute, and Sins realized he was getting better at breaking the notorious habit. He would advice his friends as well about the method he had discovered, simply thinking about something nicer and productive whenever the urge arrived, sometimes in droves, like last night’s dream where he had been smoking and watching belly dancers strut around a bonfire.
As he approached the house, he imagined scaring the wits out of the old bugger by knocking on his door, brandishing an axe, and threatening to chop his head, impale it on his gate, inviting every onlooker passing by to spit at in contempt. Sins couldn’t control such thoughts when they arrived. He was a harmless person who didn’t like violence or confrontation, unless absolutely necessary. Once, a few weeks back, in the dead of night, he had risen from his slumber, after remembering a ghastly incident he had incited when he had been eight years old in school. He had taken a pencil, sharpened it and plunged it onto a classmate’s head, who had begun bleeding and had to be taken to the emergency ward on the third floor medical room, for patching.
Sins had been suspended for two weeks. When he arrived back, the class was afraid of him, for good reason and no one had spoken to him for the rest of the year. To compensate, Sins would speak to himself and pretend he had an imaginary friend. Things lightened after a few months in the next grade, when the incident was slowly forgotten, and receded from the children’s memories, but not the teachers’. Worse, his mother was a teacher herself, and had to listen to stories about how her son was possessed by a demon, among other things.
Sins reached the house and found a dog urinating on the wall outside, looking at him smugly, as if to say do what you want.
Shrugging, he flung himself on his mattress as soon as he had walked through his door, feeling the soft cushioning foam inside, caressing against his body like a crooning lover who couldn’t get enough of him. On the cue, his phone rang. It was his old college friend.
“Long time, what’s up”
“Hey Sins, how’re you doing?”
“Quit the formalities. Why the fuck are you calling me? I have better things to do”
“You were never for small talk, I know! So listen, remember the time when we had been to Goa and you met up and became really good friends with a girl who stayed there?”
“Yes, Freida. What about her? I really liked her. Our conversations were intense”
“She’s relocating here, my friend. She texted me asking if you’re here. You changed your number last month and never bothered to tell her about it. Prick”
“I totally forgot! I’ll message her now. When is she expected?”
“She’s already in town”
“Thanks, bye”
“Prick”
His inside were feeling warm and cosy again. He liked Freida very much. In fact he had been the one imploring her to find a new job and relocate, and she had. Bless her. He found her number and dialled. No response. She was probably busy.
Ten minutes later, he dialled again. No response. She was probably busy.
Another ten minutes later, and she called back.
“Hi, I received a call from this number?”
“Freida? This is Sins here”
“Sins! How lovely to hear voice again. I got a new job, and I relocated! Where are you? Let’s catch up”
“Yes, absolutely. Text me your address. Where are you staying?”
“I just moved in ten minutes back, that’s why I didn’t see your call. Its a decent place, though the landlord is a prick. Typical oldie. Lusting over me. He said I’m free to join him for a drink anytime”
“Prick!”
“Totally”
“Wait, did you say your landlord is an oldie?”
“Yeah, in fact I’m speaking to you as he’s staring at me from his balcony”
Sins realized Freida was staying in the apartment opposite him, and the landlord was in the balcony right below his’, looking at her. He sauntered out to his balcony. He could see Freida perched on the balcony opposite his’. He waved, and her surprise and delight was evident in the way she waved back. What a lucky day.
They bonded in the evening over a couple of drinks. He loved her.
Marijuana Maharaj 