Usually, people try to figure out what a story is about by reading the first line. I will not allow you that opportunity. Part of my reasoning has to do with my own lack of understanding on whether the first line has anything to do with the story or not. But I know that I am lying to myself. For the first line of this story has nothing to do with the rest.
Aama, Saurav’s grandmother, apparently spends her day doing three things. Prayer, threading wicks for prayer, and preparing for prayer. Again, I am lying. It is not humanly possible to just do three things in a day. Of course she sleeps and eats and drinks and talks to neighbors but she also loves watching Blind Date.
Saurav recalled this particular story when he visited me last time in the garden.
“Aama always sneaks into my room when I am busy watching Liverpool’s match or if I am watching a game of DotA. She sits down, silently, and waits for me to notice her. Once I do, she gives me a sly smile.”
I waited for him to continue.
He took a drag of his Surya light cigarette, blew out the smoke, and carried on, “You know why? Because she always wants to watch Blind Date. I showed it to her once just for fun but now?” he sighed and continued, “She’s addicted.”
I nodded to signal that I understood what he meant. “Alright I have to go now,” he said as he stood up and pushed his pack of cigarette into his jeans’ pocket. I looked at his ashtray and saw ten cigarette butts.
Guess we all have our own addiction.