Why one needs Lokhandwala in small doses
Sometimes, work gets manic. Rabid, in fact. It swallows up your time, gulps down your weekends, and gobbles away your life. And when you complain, work looks you in the face and gives a long, loud burrrrrp!
This is when one feels a little shitty. Trampled upon. Worn out.
When work gets maddening, one strays so far away from a normal life, that even watching regular people doing normal stuff like bargaining for spinach brings tears to one’s eyes.
That’s when I go to Lokhandwala; late in the night, when everything else is practically closed. To have a cup of hazelnut cappuccino in the midst of people who’ve started their day…with excitement, no less.
But on the way, there’s enough bizarreness strewn about like breadcrumbs to lead me back home.
For example, there’s a small, pokey little hut that sells ‘Authentick Punjabi Food’. Its extensive menu includes jeera dhokla, malai sandwich, and pav bhaaji.
Then, there are the people wearing tight t-shirts with interesting messages. Like the guy who nearly got killed while scampering across the road when a police van careened through dangerously. He was wearing a pink so hot that would’ve made Barbie jealous. His T-shirt read: ‘Vodka. Connecting people.’
Then, there are the conversations. I am sipping my coffee, looking across the road at pretty white, silky blooms. A man walks up, smiles, and asks me if he could click my photograph. I ask him why. He puts out his hand and says, “Oh, sorry. I’m Ketan. I click wildlife.” (Well…I STILL like my hairstyle…so there!)
And finally, there are the store signs that titillate, invite, and yes…make one laugh uproariously! Like the one outside a stationery store that read, “Get your 2010 dearies now!”
Now, I don’t know about the rest of the world, but that’s a sign I’m definitely going to heed. Nothing puts an exciting spin to office days than recording the experiences for posterity: “Dear deary, work was crappy today.”
This is when one feels a little shitty. Trampled upon. Worn out.
When work gets maddening, one strays so far away from a normal life, that even watching regular people doing normal stuff like bargaining for spinach brings tears to one’s eyes.
That’s when I go to Lokhandwala; late in the night, when everything else is practically closed. To have a cup of hazelnut cappuccino in the midst of people who’ve started their day…with excitement, no less.
But on the way, there’s enough bizarreness strewn about like breadcrumbs to lead me back home.
For example, there’s a small, pokey little hut that sells ‘Authentick Punjabi Food’. Its extensive menu includes jeera dhokla, malai sandwich, and pav bhaaji.
Then, there are the people wearing tight t-shirts with interesting messages. Like the guy who nearly got killed while scampering across the road when a police van careened through dangerously. He was wearing a pink so hot that would’ve made Barbie jealous. His T-shirt read: ‘Vodka. Connecting people.’
Then, there are the conversations. I am sipping my coffee, looking across the road at pretty white, silky blooms. A man walks up, smiles, and asks me if he could click my photograph. I ask him why. He puts out his hand and says, “Oh, sorry. I’m Ketan. I click wildlife.” (Well…I STILL like my hairstyle…so there!)
And finally, there are the store signs that titillate, invite, and yes…make one laugh uproariously! Like the one outside a stationery store that read, “Get your 2010 dearies now!”
Now, I don’t know about the rest of the world, but that’s a sign I’m definitely going to heed. Nothing puts an exciting spin to office days than recording the experiences for posterity: “Dear deary, work was crappy today.”
Comments
No matter how crappy a day, you manage to maintain your keen sense of observation and humour. That definitely is a great trait to have.