anagram

They say there are monsters at the bottom of the temple tank. Large black monsters with white under bellies and long horrendous moustaches. You've also heard that they're only silent on the moonless nights as the Lord goes dancing through the streets on the shoulders of his devotees. "the lord is the lake of nectar" , " does that mean the monsters in the lake are made of honey?" you mumble as the words disappear out of sight on the board only to be followed by "the lord is the ocean of morality". This time you have no smart comments. So you just continue reading all the shop names and making anagrams out of the interesting ones.

The bus smells like most busses in this city , you associate this smell to the colour green. You've never wondered why though so you just disregard it assuming it is because the busses are green. Though you did have a fight with Murgesh the other day , he though the smell was yellow , you lost. It was only because he thought the busses smelt like vomit and his vomit was yellow. Murgesh thought he was funny , you thought he was stupid and annoying. But then again , he did have a point , nobody you know has ever thrown up green coloured vomit.


you finally make an anagram " Anjali is a lake monster" out of nalli sarees and A.K.M.A.A Joint. The later looked like one of the local "chineses" fast food joints.

*

You're cursing your mother for insisting to stuff oiled cotton into your ears. You never really understood her. You're also cursing Anjali for picking out that underwire bra for you what does she know , she's only interested in taking it off anyway , she doesn't have a wire running under her breasts does she!?.

The bus is moving along slowly , still smelling green. You still cant visualize green vomit. The man sitting next to you keeps staring at your breasts , you continue to curse Anjali. The man reminds you of Murgesh , he smiles the same silly way when he realizes you know he's staring at your breasts. Now you're wondering why you just equated them to one of Murgesh's stupid jokes. Murgesh can't act either but insists he's a passionate actor. He just froths at the sides of his mouth and sprays little darts of saliva when he delivers his dialogues. The frothing reminds you of all the dying dogs you've seen in your life. Dogs are funny , they might be smart but they're funny. But that has nothing to do with the frothing of course. Frothing isn't funny , unless Murgesh does it.
*
Busses are green and they smell green , as for a reason you still don't have one. Prof. K.P Anand is continuing with his immensely boring and rather unnecessary tangent on sufi poetry. He's a tall man , about mid thirties but his face looks older. All his fingers are bent , you imagine him jamming then in the hinge of a door and screaming in pain. You're always morbid. Anjali is acting horny again and you have to keep slapping her hand away. Why didn't her fingers get jammed in a door?. The Professor has a funny voice , one that doesn't suit his body at all. He reminds you of your grandfathers chair , the funny creaking sounds it would make in an attempt to be heard. Chairs are happy things , they make noises specific to the person sitting on them. You start scribbling in your notebook "chairs are unhappy because no one wants to sit on them and they don't have a song to sing. I'm unhappy because I have no one to sit on and sing a song. 19.01.2009." Below it is an older scribble. "people drool when they're sleeping because they don't like what their mind is telling them". No date. You probably wrote it when Anjali drooled in your lap. Why you let her sleep in your lap is still a mystery to you.
*
You took the AC bus today , and it still smells green. You're cursing your nose now. You stick your nose to the large glass window looking into the streets for details of peoples lives. The lady next to you is instructing her cook over the phone. She should just come to terms with her drool. You think to yourself. There's a man on the road walking on all fours , but that's because his legs stop at his knees. He reminds you of a dog , a not so funny dog. A dog frothing at its mouth. You curse the window , you can't spare change through a fixed glazing can you?. You decide you'll feed a dog on the way home to feel better.
*

Gauti just got back from Trivandrum , and he's his usual self. Writing random things on the walls of his room. He's an intriguing chap. You remember the time he wrote "when I die , there shall be nothing left to remind you of me , no poetry and no rhyme. I shall be the silent song of the wind and the music of the river beating against the rock till then. Till then I shall be a song." You remember aunty calling you out with the excuse of tea and asking you "why is Gautam writing these weird things on the wall , is he depressed?. I found ganja in his pant pockets yesterday" and then she broke into tears. You just sipped at the tea , making more noise and drinking less.

*
He accuses you of stealing his ear rings the minute you walk in through his door. You ignore it , its classic Gauti. Dramatic Gauti . Ephemeral Gauti. The accusations don't stop him from giving you a tight hug. Weird Gauti. Vain Gauti.
"what's it this time mister?" you ask him as you look at his pixelated wall. His wall doesn't surprise you anymore. This time he's put tiny little yellow dots all over the south wall of his room. " go closer Krithika , read what I wrote in the centre" he said as he smiled and flicked his cigarette. "this is a mustard field , viewed from the top when there is no wind." Written in yellow ink in the centre. " what significance must I attach to it Gauti?" you say walking away and looking for cigarettes on his desk. "must everything have significance , it exists doesn't it?. Why do you look for an essence in vain?" he said in his usual passionate voice. He doesn't froth on the sides of his mouth. "you want to write something on it?." You think about it. Sip at your tea. He's trying to kill a fly with smoke. You walk up to the wall , take the yellow paint brush and deliberately write outside the lines. You step back and look at it. "there!! That's what your wall looks like to me". He reads it distractedly , but out loud , still trying to kill the fly. "this is a pool of puke , a pool of yellow puke that Murgesh has drowned in. Its viewed from the top when its on a boiling pot."