December 10th 2009
Dear Generic Indian guy,
I saw you today for the first time at the bus stop. It bothered me yet again that I have so many replicas in this world. We aren't that different you know - Both around the age of 25, slaves to our laptops, mildly satisfied with life, at the start of a long, loathsome journey called a career which will end with either one's own demise or that of capitalism. Good luck with all that.
December 15th 2009
Dear Generic Indian Guy,
I noticed you in greater detail today. Yes as we made eye contact, I could have said Hi. But I didn't. I have my reasons for that, which I shall confess here at a later stage. By your looks you remind me a few friends of mine. An ambitious centre partioned hair plastered down with conservative dollops of oil. An apologetic belly nudging its way out of the safe perimeter of the belt. A laptop bag strapped a little too high to look classy. Eyes glazed lost in thoughts of some inconsequential matter in the larger scheme of things. A constant uncertainity on whether you look better with or without a stubble....
December 18th 2009
Damn it Generic Indian Guy, you work in the same company! We even shared the same lift. And here I was having fun having conversations on this 'Generic Indian Guy' theory. What if we end up working together? How will I ever broach this subject of you being the object of my obtuse humour piece?
December 24th 2009
I see you too are dressed casually today to pay some awesome homage to Jebus. After an uneventful day, we both are likely to land up for the movie 3 Idiots at the same theatre for the same show. That'll be another spot where we can conveniently ignore each other. But this can't go on forever.
....So I see you brought your bunch of generic friends to the show. One I assume laughed at all the jokes, thought Kareena looked boring with the glasses and related long tedious stories later on how in college he was less like Chatur and more like Rancho; The other friend I guess was busy SMSing his girlfriend and does not participate in good conversations with you anymore. The third one has an apologetic collection of Metallica and Pink Floyd on his laptop, swears by yesteryear hits like 'Andaz Apna Apna' and generally goes home during Diwali.....
December 31st 2009
I saw you again at the bus stop today. Wish you a Happy New Year. I know it was rude of me, right at the brink of a long lazy New Year's weekend, to not even smile at you. It's awful that we haven't begun to talk. We could become good friends you know. But greeting you goes against my principles for life beyond 25. It's not that you are not different. It's just that you are not. It takes an immense amount of effort to get to know new people. It's even harder to alter one's life for them. For you I'd have to change my weekend routine, of places to eat, of stuff to do to fit you in. And the boring conversations...Oh God...What if you turn out to be immensely boring...Every morning at the bus stop, what's the highlight going to be ? Cricket?
January 15th 2010
I think it's time. I am filled with guilt. Tomorrow, this week, or at least within this month I shall greet you. Over the last month, I may have developed a slight prejudice about you without having some basis. Who knows, your music collection may extend beyond Pink Flyod. In the For/Against Shahrukh Khan split of 80:20, you may lie on the good side. If after all the effort, you do turn out to be a wrong decision for my life, I wouldn't worry about it too much. In the bigger scheme of things, we are just a bunch of Generic Indians riding on a bus. Big deal.