My future here ends soon.

A plan to go outside but now the heavy downpour has ruined it. Another evening spent almost alone dreaming of beer, buying beer, not drinking beer. For money, people would kick anybody. Rode a mile on the dented roads that are filling with rainwater since two days. No song in the air, no men on the roadsides. No fruitsellers. No flesh hanging by the hook. ‘Are things going to get better?’ a man asked me in the morning. ‘I don’t know, Maybe day after tomorrow. I really don’t know. Things are fine with me,’ I said. People were always in shit, only now they are able to see how bad the situation is. I am tired of teaching anybody anything. People see when they want to see. Until then, they live blind to everything. So I took a walk from work to home all alone, watching the clouds and meditating on the possibility of a black rain and hence, a wasted night. The butcher has already chopped himself. The carpenter has chiseled his own thighs, The electrician, unable to swallow wires, is banging on doors, begging people to offer him something defective. Everything is farce. People do things just for the sake of doing them. Their spirit wants to invest in something else. They are mad for something else. They are stuck with this and that and then they tell everybody, ‘That’s life.’ That’s not life.That’s philosophy. Another threat delivered to me in the evening via an electronic medium, ‘Do this or your future here is grim.’ I know my future here is grim. I have not future here. I stand no chance among these idiots. My future here ends soon and I hope it does. I have got other, more important things to do. I know where my future it and it’s not much of a nice place.

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