The quirky DNA

Sometimes I wonder how people get so intense and dour during this part of the day and night routine. Like what's so special about this time? Ordinary people become poets all of a sudden, the guy next door acts like a philosophical thinker of all times, people in love feel their hormones gushing in an extraordinary pace, babies kick start their inflating metabolism rates and butt in on their dozing parents, people with broken insides wet their pillows in torment metastasizing the woe to every other cell in the body... And then... There's me.... I sit here as an undernourished esurient hungry monster, raiding through the house for some nibbles and munchies.. Hmmmmmmpphhh priorities though... So what kind of 3am person are u?? PC. Amreenajan (well.. that's my scribble) 😬 

It all starts with a "hii baby what's up? " from me. 2 mins .. check my phone .. no reply..  5 mins... 10 mins.... No reply....  Assumption begins..  Well... He must be busy. By the way today he has his presentation too. How hard had he been working for it for the past 4 days. My darling should definitely do well.  (Angelic smile)  Tinggggg...  5 mins later..  Checks mobile. Single tick. Tantrums...  Angelic smile disappears..  Why has he switched off his network? Is the work that important? By the way he never does anything of that sort without informing me... Or..  What if he had lost his mobile? Has he encountered with an accident? Should I call and check with the room number and hospital name? Wait.. If he is admitted then who would pick his phone up? Or the person who admitted him might just check through the log and give a call to the recently dialed number. If that's the case I should have received the call by now. Does that mean it was

I hate elevators!! Yes. Elevators according to me are the wierdest places to be on Mother Earth.  Like who would want to spend few minutes of his entire life stuck up amid a bunch of complete strangers?  🌎 Why don't people get it?  If one has to go to the 4th floor from the 2nd, he has to technically go to the 4th from the 2nd... Instead why does he come all the way to the 1st floor, pick me up and then head towards the 4th and make it difficult for the fellow passengers creating that congestion? Like are we bonded in anyway that you are showing me this concern- by picking and dropping me off?? 🌎 Why is it that people forget their existence and stand like a bizzare statue until their destined floor arrives? Their senses are regained only when the door is about to close and they exit, giving free elbow and knee, hand and shoulder massages to their fellow mates. 🌎 Why? Why do people have to talk in ear-splitting tones in that small room? Like no one is interested in you

Mom : Do you wanna have something? Me : No, mom. I'm not hungry. (...I continue to look into the screen of my laptop). Mom : Are you sure?  Me : (in a rather weary tone) Yes mom! It's hardly 10 minutes since I had my lunch! Don't ask me again! Please.  (Mom walks away in silence).  All of a sudden.. Extremely delicious and succulent gulabjamuns floating in a bowl of viscous sugary syrup arrive at the table. Me : (eyeballs following the bowl as she conveyed it from the kitchen to the table right in front of me. We both  exchanged looks.... it was a moment of complete silence!)  "Errr... Mom...Or may be I should recheck my tummy once again. I think there is still some space in there".  (*Sheepish grin*). Well.. You know who won! Moms are moms!  Me, Mom and Food.. The viscious circle once again.

The guy behind me was drooling over and I could hear slurps with every passing minute. I could infact feel his fork on my spine as if he were to kill me if I din't move. We were standing in a long queue of 5 people for a buffet dinner (Ofcourse 5 people when your stomach is growling is a "long" queue, you antihuman). Every possible toothsome thing you can think of was just lying there neatly embellished. It was not food- it was ART on the table.  The tantalizing aroma of freshly cooked pasta smeared with it's white mousy companion, some brown lilliputs on the tray showered with a dark brown viscid syrup and colourful sprinkles, the long strands of noodles which looked as if they were lying there jaded and were gesturing me to engulf them. There was also a strong cheesy and creamy aroma of something really luscious, which was coming all the way from the soup bowl. My mouth watered and watered and watered. I just wished to play H.G.Well's 'The invisible ma