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Weekly grocery shopping day

It is Saturday. Weekly grocery shopping day. This is a long-standing tradition in our family of three members. Every Saturday, without fail, my wife and I go to the market and do our weekly shopping.  It is not a planned activity. Which might seem strange. Considering that it is a family tradition. The workflow starts something like this.  Saturday morning, starting at around 9 AM, I start asking,“What time are we leaving?”  I repeat this every five minutes until we leave. The answer could be one of the following. ‘In five minutes.’ ‘After I hang the clothes out to dry.’ ‘After I finish boiling the milk.’  I switch off my laptop and get ready.  It takes me 5 minutes. I position myself on the chair near the door.  At 9.30 her mother calls. That is a call she has to take. They discuss topics ranging from death, disease, religion, recent… Weekly grocery shopping day

Coming up the driveway

“It is your uncle,” my wife said.  I looked up from the newspaper and sure enough, it was my Uncle coming up the driveway. At least the face resembled the uncle I knew. The rest of him looked different. He was dressed in saffron robes. Around his neck were beads, giant ones, the kind that could replace your car wheels. I wondered where he found them. My wife and I were sitting in our garden, enjoying a brief pause from the rain, and drinking a cup of hot tea.  Before we could run inside and shut the door, he caught us.  “Divine blessings, my child!” Uncle said. I looked all around and finding no one else, guessed he was addressing us. “What?” I said. That was all I managed, before he started. “May the cosmic light of knowledge, shine upon you. I am the past, the present, and the future. The… Coming up the driveway

The old man from the first floor flat

“How dare you park your car before my house?”Startled, I looked up from the phone. It was the old man from the first floor flat. He was shouting at me.  “What?” I started to speak when he continued. “Your car is parked right before my gate.” I always park ahead of a gray colored gate. Last night I may have parked in front. “I am sorry, I will move it.” “Don’t you have any civic sense,” I wanted to respond, but I was the culprit here. As I walked towards his house, he followed me, continuing his tirade.  As we neared the car, I reached for the keys. It was not in my pocket. I checked all the pockets, even the shirt pocket. Then I remembered. I had sold my car the previous day. I was travelling by bus today, I had forgotten all about it.  Turning around, I smiled… The old man from the first floor flat