The Perfect Day

The morning is just about perfect, or at least as perfect as it can get midway through a scorching Indian summer. The Sun isn’t its usual blazing self. Being a bit generous on us mere mortals, I suppose! For once you don’t wake up irritable, cursing your roommate because he was snoring all through the night. For once you don’t wake up covered in sweat, smelling like something the cat dragged in. It’s a great start to the day, I must say.

“Perfect day for a good book, isn’t it guys?” asks the bookworm from behind the newspaper. “LOSER!!!”, you say to yourself and ignore his remark. “Reading was never my thing, man! Dad tried everything humanly possible for me to get into it though. But, I never did pick up this bad habit!” The bookworm looks at me like I’m some sort of a retard, I mean slow, or are they calling it ‘mentally challenged’ now?

When I say that Dad tried everything to get me to read, I’m really not kidding. In fact, I’m sure he’s still at it in his own subtle way. We’ve heard innumerable stories from his childhood, about how he was always the angrez in his class. Apparently, he had finished off the entire Enid Blyton series by class 5, was it? And here I stand, wondering whether I even spelt the name correctly in the previous sentence! A stark contrast, isn’t it?

Then there were the lunch time sessions on his all time favourite, PG Wodehouse. How anyone can laugh hysterically while reading Pigs have Wings for the hundredth time is beyond me! Make the mistake of asking what he’s laughing at and you’ve had it. Trust me on this one! ‘Fits of laughter’ is what would best describe his state on the very mention of any of the Wodehouse characters. Being caught smack in the middle of it was something I really can’t put down in words. Lets just leave it as a ‘you had to be there’ kind of situation.

“Just read it once. I’m sure you won’t be able to put it down!”, dad urged my elder sister. My sister happens to be what you’d call a voracious reader, lapping up one lot of library books after another. From the sappy Mills & Boons to the law obsessed John Grisham, she’s read them all, all except Wodehouse somehow. Come to think of it, even Mom does her fair share of reading. Of course, her reading material is more along the lines of Chicken Soup for the Soul. Yup, the philosophical crap that one learns to appreciate with maturity. Or as we would like to describe it, ‘stuff for old people!’.

I sound like a hillbilly caught up in the world of sophistication, don’t I? A social misfit! Think you’ve got me figured out? Well, I won’t say that you’re completely wrong, but hey, you’re not completely right either!

‘A man is innocent till he is proven guilty!’ Besides, what you’ve heard so far is all circumstantial evidence anyway! And no, it doesn’t make a difference whether I read that somewhere or just happened to see it in The Rainmaker, the movie!


“Lets go out to the mall today, guys!” says our third roommate. “The malls are loaded with chicks over the weekend, man! We can even catch a movie later on. I think Angelina Jolie’s latest flick is playing at one of the theatres. I’ve heard she looks really hot in it!” Yeah, this guy doesn’t beat around the bush.

“Not right now, fatso! I’ve got stuff to do! Maybe later!”

“Huh? You have stuff to do? On a Saturday? You don’t even have a girlfriend! Fixed up a date, eh?”

“No, dude! Relax! Just thought I’d give four-eyes here some company. Catch up on some reading today.” I say as I reach for the Five Point Someone lying on the shelf. Five Point Someone, by the way, is the only book I’ve read twice!

“Fine! Losers! I’m getting ready and then I’m off!” says fatso in a rather somber tone.

About half an hour later, out comes fatso wearing his favourite ‘lets just do it’ t- shirt.

“Special occasion, huh?” I enquire.

“Yes sir! Just spoke to my cousin. He’s invited me to a pub. Some party there with his office gang. Free booze, good dames and if I’m really lucky, free food too! Think about it, you still want to come along?”

I weigh out the options in my head - a nice quiet afternoon reading my favourite book or hanging around with a bunch of dimwits in a crowded pub? Doesn’t take me long to decide. “Hang on for 5 minutes, man! I’m in! I can catch up on my reading anytime!”

Sorry, dad. To give into temptation is but human! You’ll have to give me some credit for trying though!