A good book did nothing to me, save make me more miserable and cruel and wretched. How does the book ” Far from the madding crowd” make my 678th attempt to write a romance feel like ?

While I was sitting there, chewing mint like a cow, thinking of why I had to even write, I decided to go watch the movie of the same name. Swaying golden harvest, sun, the colour that I can achieve only after 15 instagram filters. This wasn’t making me feel any less worthless.

Now like a saviour, came Toufeeq, the butcher.

I see him through the wire mesh, he looks round. I yell “maaaaaaaaaaa”. He got chicken. I just ate. He disinterested me. I went away.

Mother and him were talking when he complained about our door which confused him. He thought he was at the wrong door. Why ? Because our door had the word “om” inscribed on it.

My mother then apologetically tells him that she didn’t find enough time to do something about it.

He says, ” I was thinking that this could never be a Muslim’s home” He laughs, like a child

Chicken taken, money given, he leaves.

And I am left wondering how many generations it was going to take before someone in his family, passed by an “om” inscribed door and just passed by it, thinking of that 2’O clock lunch appointment.





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