Five...four...three...two...one...and ...the D-Day. Made a quick trip to the parlour. Did a rapid fire round of shopping. Some crockery. Cosmetics. Chutney Powder.
It was all fine till I wanted to head back home by those black-n-yellow wolves on road called autorickshaws. Thirty bucks for a 2.5 km distance. Would've walked it up but for the luggage. Half an hour on road with auto-drivers behaving they were doing you a favour with their divine existence. Like you don't deserve a paid ride unless a readymade customer's waiting on the other end.
After bombarding fiance dear with gaalis for them, did find an auto-driver who cared for that thing called fare-meter. He charged one and half times - fare. That was fine. At least he did not treat that box like an antique piece. Did reach home. Thank God for small mercies!
How many invites to go? Who else to invite...sigh...guess my cerebral cells need some rest for now...
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