it's a crowded road. it's close to that time of the afternoon when schools get off so everything looks like a traffic jam. max is sitting beneath a bus stop fanning himself furiously while charlie sits drooling, with tongue extended.
charlie: what're we doing here again?
max: this is our last chance to save humanity
charile: save it? from what?
max: i don't know. from itself maybe...
(they sit in silence)
charlie: you know, max, i don't think we're at the right place
max: why do you say that?
charlie: i mean there's not much happening here... like there was a jam here sometime ago, there's an old man sitting staring into space next to us, there are two kids waiting, for i don't know, the bus or something, there's a man selling water across the road, there's a fat woman crossing the road. i mean, there's no black hole or monster or anything here. is there?
max: no no no, that's how it happens, it's a moment thing, there's no build up to it, the event happens, and you have to react to it then and there. you know, there's no weighing the pros and cons. the event wants your natural response to it, and it gets that by marginalising your response time...
while max is in the thick of his explanation, a maruti van stops near the children. two burly types get out of it and grab the children and get back into their wagon of doom. the van drives off. people just stand around looking.
max and charlie are lying on the terrace basking like strays in the sun. max is trying to light his cigarette using his cool zippo. however, his efforts seem curtailed by the fact that the lighter is upside down and the flame, following the order of conventional physics, is headed the opposite way.
charlie: dude, what's with the name?
max: the name?
charlie: yeah. max black?
max: oh that...
max: i'm into typo, you know...
max: alphabets, the fonts they're in, words, the way the words are arranged, the way sentences are arranged...
max: and i love black on white, you know, i sort of dig the simplicity to it
charlie scratches his ear
max: and my favourite shade of black is maximum black
charlie: you could've just said that, no
max: yeah. and also i read this short paper on bullshit
charlie: on bullshit?
max: yeah. not the cow derivative...BS...
max: yeah, by this harvard professor...
charlie: havard (makes a dog variation of an 'impressive' face)
max: the guy's name was max black...
max: also, i think it sounds cool...
charlie: yeah, why am i called charlie?
max: charlie... yeah... oh, now i remember
max: charlie's slang for cocaine
charlie: it is?
max: yeah, and i have this friend who really likes dogs
charlie: likes dogs? that's really nice of her man...
The New Friends Colony Community Centre is about fifteen minutes from the agency and two from hell. When India hit independence, Nehru had them chase out all the djinns and the tantrics, outlaw magic and seal up all the manholes, public bathrooms and tunnels that led to hell. Needless to say, they missed a few. The one at the New Friends Colony Community Centre is unique, in the sense that it has actually sprouted a commercial complex about it, peopled by struggling artists, advertising executives, and personal and public demons.This blog is dedicated to the Delhi netherworld and its malcontents.