Wednesday, August 30, 2017

One day, I aspire to be as cool as the guy who runs Irish Castle Café in this cramped space in GK-2. The man shows up to work once a week, at around 1:34 pm and sits with his feet crossed, on the table facing the customers. He stays for about 3 hours or so, until he gets bored and runs out of patience and fucks off god alone knows where. He works when he wants, how he wants and nobody tells him anything. That sounds like the kind of space I want to be in.

I have been trying to get to this man to taste the food that everyone I know is raving about. From everyone who's told me about it, it sounds like he puts his heart and soul in that one odd plate of Chicken Legs he sells once a week when he feels like working. I have missed this guy four fucking times now, where he shows up but leaves before I can convince my cheating by eating more than 1200 calories a day head to eat some stuff that the man has to offer.

Yet, I miss him. Maybe I should start chasing him like how clients chase me. That's when the justice would prevail in this universe. Maybe, I should just give up.

But then again, I don't come from a school of thought where I give up on struggles easily.

Last two weeks, there was no sighting of him, until an acquaintance checked with him.

"I was in Assam. I'd gone to visit my father."

Irish man, sitting in a Delhi-Punjabi neighbourhood with his dad in Assam, and no fucks to give- that's my goal right there.

"Man, I hate employers."
"You know my boss called me to her school going son's birthday and I thought it was because she wanted me there. Once I reached, I found out that she wanted me to gift wrap the return gifts."

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