Monday, 6 August 2012


So much to write, so much learned!

The driver and I have got into yet another verbal scrabble. Travel weary, and slowly sinking due to the heat, I continue my conversation with the driver. He asks, and I answer, though my throat is bone dry.
   A knock on the window interrupts the hacked sentences exchanged between us. A boy, or was it a young man? I cease to be able to tell their ages anymore. The driver buys the customary chewing gum and the glass starts to scale slowly upwards.

'I say, please give him this'.
'Give it to him yourself'. He replies, looking up at the rear view mirror.
      I angrily open the door, to look for the man-boy. He is long gone, my regret and anger meaning I spend the rest of a day in a sombre mood. I never realised how far the gap between social classes is becoming. The crack is becoming filled with mere children.

The driver tells my mother I need to learn how to control my 'natra', or temper. 'No man can put up with that'. Somehow I end up giggling at that, and try to hide it amongst ill-placed coughs.
 I try to seek solace in speaking with my Grandfather. He asks me what I've learnt. I excitedly tell him all I've seen, and the use it can present.
Smiling, he asks me if I've found my expiration date stamped somewhere. 'There's no need to rush life'.