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Cursing Life Down The Road

I had cleared the job test and was up for the final interview at the bus stop. My attire consisted of a fairly whitened shirt, and a blue trouser my uncle had gifted after he was convinced that its patches were too obvious to hide. I had also managed to secure an oversized tie from my friend, triple knotted it, and built a false imagination that it matched the color of my black shoes.

Fearing that travelling in the bus would be a risky affair for such an expensive get up, I decided to fetch a rickshaw that promised a safer and quicker ride at a few extra bucks. I was so engraved in the thoughts about the job that I failed to sense any trouble standing next to a pavement surrounding a whole mess of sewage water.


I noticed a slowly approaching qingqi and prepared to signal it with excitement. But your car overtook it, speed passing it behind and splashing the sewage filth all over my body. And it was there my heart pounded this curse for you….


‘I pray that a truck meets you with a greater speed at the next intersection; and may you find not even a fractional second to pull your brakes. May the car overturns an umpteenth time before it throws you out in pieces, with your head open, your brain splashed on road, and your clothes bloodstained and torn into an infinite, irreparable patches. May flies dance all over your cut out intestines, and may dogs arrive on the scene quicker than the ambulance. ‘

‘The core of my heart also wishes that your materialistic wife marries a richer bastard, and your bragging kids receive all forms of molestation. May your brother promotes to the next level of corruption and rips off all what you’ve left behind.’

I was just about to end the painful spell when I saw the car reversing. Proactive this time, I had already got a stone clutched to break the moron’s head. But the sight of driver stunned me. It was the HR manager accompanying the key figure who was supposed to take my final interview.

I quickly put my stone-filled fist into one of the trouser’s pockets, expecting an apology and an impromptu interview…


P.S. The burned out character of this story presumably got the job, but he lost it in a more surprising fashion. See what happened next in my blog ‘Losing Your Job’.

Hope you’d like it.



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