My mind's drawn a blank. I'm forced to write all the mokkais I come up with in class, here in my blog. Apologies! :)
I'm bloody pissed off with the stationer down the road. I really am. Ok, so I did seem a bit dumbwitted when it came to choosing the pen I wanted, taking an awfully long time to select one. But that gave him no excuse to insult me.
I entered the stationery shop, hoping I'd be given the same royal treatment I was given in a bakery next door. The stationer stood up, looking relieved to finally see a soul walking into his shop. "Ballpen vennum", I said. Hmmm, maybe I should have been a bit more suave. My line seemed a bit like the "maama biskothu" in the Pandiarajan movie, the name of which I've conveniently forgotten.
He gave me a curt nod, all respect forgotten, and started rummaging the shelf behind him. He handed me a slim gel pen. I stared at it for a while. It must have looked to him as if I was trying to burn a hole through it with my searing glare. With a dissatisfied 'hmmm', I handed it back to him. "Too light a shade of blue", I thought, but I didn't bother giving him an explanation. Without a word, he handed me a click pen. One click, and the pen flew out of my hand. Maybe he didn't trust me to handle such a complicated instrument.
One more forage later, he banged a regular ball pen on the desk, his eyes fixed on mine, daring me to tell him I didn't want it. But I'm not someone who goes looking for conflicts, and I must admit he gave me the creeps with his maniacal scowl. I took it without a word. I dug into my pocket for the frayed 10 Rs note I remembered putting in when I left home.
That was when he opened his mouth for the first time.
Ok, so I was being a pain, maybe I wasn't his best customer. But I will never forgive him for insulting me in such a way. As I handed him the money, he lifted his hand asking me to wait.
He took out his scribbling pad, gave me a sarcastic smile, and said "kirukku".
Guess whose birthday it is on Aug 15 :) [thats a http thingy..]