Time has come.
We were waiting for it desperately and now the wait is over. So are the days with scorching sun and burning rays.
It’s monsoon, fellas. Hurrah!
Summer’s over, rain’s everywhere, cooling the heat vomiting earth and our nearly melting bodies.
You can smell pakodas and chai and smoked corn and umbrellas and ugly long raincoats around. You can also smell a bunch of lazy people who finally got an excuse for not going to work and not taking bath.
But you can withstand all such smell. I mean it’s just food or people. We love such smell. I mean scientists say that women choose men from smelling their sweat. They say it has something to do with pheromones we release from our bodies. Oh man, I am not going to smell any woman’s underarms just to know if we are compatible or not.
People say rains are romantic and one can smell love. I say, here it’s all about waterlogged streets and the sweet smell of shit swimming out of the runnels. Fortunately most of us have roof above our heads and walls around to save ourselves from this apocalypse.
I and my friends live in a small rented house. Rainy weather allows us to work from home, preventing us from stepping on dissolving shit. Downpours barely affect our routine and we do our chores like we always do.
The most grueling thing to do in our lives is to wash clothes. I guess it stands true with most bachelors. So we do it with utmost superficial cry on our faces. Next is to hang it under the bright sun let the clothes dry. But hello, it’s raining outside. So we put the wet clothes on every corner and every edge of our house. It looks like a dhobighat.
Try doing it and die. I mean it is not about the room which becomes hot and humid. We can endure it. The show begins with the inexplicably peculiar smell of wet clothes that repels all the fresh air coming in through the windows. Even the best sniffers would fail in telling what kind of smell is it. But I know it’s stinky and suffocating. Naphthalene balls wouldn’t work. Our expensive deodorants lose miserably. And the jasmine scented room freshener is even worse than the smell of wet clothes.
What is to be done? We plan to go to our friends’ home and a similar situation exists there too. Moreover who wants to step out? Just suffocate and die. I think even the dead would despise the smell of wet cloth.
So we tie masks on our faces and looks like a bunch of swine flu patients. Our house stink so much that even MERS and EBOLA virus combined would die here. Even noseless Voldemort would try putting a mask on.
So please visit our house if you are planning a suicide.