I woke up in a world smothered by love. Oozing from its very pores. At first I did not understand what this gooey slimy thing was that threatened to choke me and slather my being with formlessness, but after a few hours of being in it, I realised that it was this thing they call love.
Slime or not, it was late as usual, and I had to get to office.
My name is Kas and I work as a quality check assistant at Tulip Machines Inc, a company that can check the quality of whatever it is that the client wants quality checked for, located approximately 30 km away from my home in the suburbs of this city called Bengaluru.
Today there is a ring of chants in the air when I step out. I am revolted by the chants per se, as they remind me of my childhood that was oppressive at best and downright perverted at worst. I have been told that today is the day when good won over evil and love won over hate. No wonder I woke up with the feeling of love's icky fingers all over me.
To get to Tulip, I must travel for at least and hour by auto, metro and again an auto as my home and office are situated conveniently far away for me to be able to contribute to the booming commute economy to the best of my capabilities.
At first I thought I would like to not be present in the now, and maybe be in a time where I could teleport myself to areas that I need to be at, but then I realised that would just take away the time I have for myself during the commuting process. So I decided to place myself in the now.
It is a strange workplace in that sense as our team consists of highly mismatched individuals stuck together trying to churn out new standards of quality.
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Likith was disturbed by the conversation he had to have with Kas the previous evening. He is not a man for too much conversing and especially not about things that actually matter. The workings of the gut he can hold sermons on for hours as he had was of late particularly concerned with this topic, but matters of faith and so on are better left alone as far as he is concerned. Before his gut phase, he was into strokes. On the wrong side of forty, mortality had become like a cloak he was always saddled with and he tried to take it off by thinking all the time about various parts of the human anatomy.
It started with Kas' grimace on seeing the vermilion mark on his forehead. The cocky bitch. Yes it started with her self-righteous expression.
"There is a scientific explanation to this celebration, before you start wondering why we fools have to follow all rituals, madame know-it-all," he slid in sideways.
"I wonder if you have ever had a crisis of faith?" she asked.
Now, what on earth kind of a question was that! He may have had it or he may not have -- he surely wasn't going to share it with a woman, who refused to even have a bath on a daily basis.
"Faith takes shape after a series of crises at various stages of one's life," he offered.
"And once it takes shape, does it get calcified?" another question.
"It is all very easy for you to say."
That line usually ends all conversations. It is an assumption and an assertion at the same time.
He was not going to indulge in any more talk with that woman today as the matter of faith was particularly touchy for him.
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