Monday

He was disconsolate, demotivated, mechanical. He left at 9:15, but it could as easily have been 8:53 or 9:24. He glanced at his watch, but saw only a wrist, so he fished out his cell phone instead. The screen displayed a picture which had once meant a lot to him, but he wasn’t sure now. He reached the gate of the colony, hoping to see an auto waiting there. There wasn’t any, he had forgotten not to hope. He eventually found one, thought about haggling but abandoned the idea. I’ll just eat less, he told himself, and grimaced inwardly because that really had nothing to do with it.

He glared at the oncoming traffic accusingly. I am not one of you, his gaze seemed to say. I am not a worker ant. “Givesignalmotherfucker” yelled the auto driver, looking back for approval. He showed no expression, put on his headphones instead and started turning dials. “You are my theme for a dream my fair and lovely…sapnon ki duniya mein I’ve been waiting for you baby…GIVEHANDYOUSONOFADONKEY…mera jeevan...DOYOUUNDERSTAND…kora hi reh gaya…ORSHOULDICOMETHERE…back in black hit the sack”. Monday seemed determined to remain a cliché.