It was a beautiful Sunday morning. I lay in bed, not really asleep. Turned my head towards the alarm clock.
5:42 AM. Huh.
I looked out the window. The sun was half up. And my God, it looked beautiful. Aah, the tender chirping of parrots and pigeons had kept me up all bloody night. I looked at a dog barking on the street. No other life form in sight. Who the fuck are you barking at?
'How about I go running?', I asked myself. The outdoors look swell.
Tracks, shoes and headphones on, I was out. Holy Crap, it was cold. I ran on the lonely otherwise packed road with James Taylor singing in my ears. With the exception of the occasional paper delivery guy and the milk man, there was nobody awake. I also saw an old woman stealing flowers from the tree in someone Else's home. Cheap.
I ran for about 10 minutes and I reached a park. The sun was up. I went in, stretched a bit and sat down on a stone bench.
"When you give me that pretty little pout,
It turns me inside out.
There's something about you, baby!", I sang without really realising where I was. But hey, that's James Taylor.
"What the hell did you just say to me?", I heard a voice say.
I cut the music, turned around and saw an old man sitting next to me. "I'm sorry?"
"Are you hitting on me, boy?", the old man laughed.
"Is it working?", I winked. He burst into laughter. It was scary.
"I'm Retd. General Shankar Prasad.", he introduced himself.
"Aditya Bhat, sir!", I whipped my right hand in salute. Ha!
"What happened there?", he pointed to the plaster on my left hand.
"Aah, cricket injury. You've got your sacrifices, we've got ours."
"You're a funny young man!", he burst out laughing again. "Now tell me, he continued, "Why are you running in a park at 6 in the morning with a broken hand when the rest of your generation is asleep? Looking for women eh? Go to a mall."
"You sly man", I smiled, "I can't play for 6 months with this injury, might as well keep fit."
"Good on you. You want to know the real reason I come here?", he leaned forward.
"Because you need all the fresh air you can get to survive?", I quipped. This old man would not kill me if I even made fun of his manhood.
"Look at that woman over there?", he pointed his finger out, "That's Geeta. I love her."
"Are you mad!", I jumped.
"Settle down, son. I've lost my wife. My kids live in London. What's my fault?", he said.
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"I sit here everyday across her trying to muster up the courage to just talk to her. Her husband's dead too. If I could just ask her out, once.."
"You come here everyday? You horny bastard.", I laughed.
"Are you going to help me or not?", he said, " What's wrong with me? I look great don't I?".
This conversation had reached escalating degrees of awkwardness. 15 minutes ago, I was just a guy walking in a park, listening to his music, minding his own business. Suddenly, I'm helping a 70 year old man get laid.
How does this seem to happen to me?
"Oh yes, you look ravishing.", I quipped.
"Tell you what, we're going to go have coffee and you are helping me.", he suddenly sounded strict.
"Sir, yes, sir!".
At the coffee stall, with a coffee cup in hand, he began again. "So, what do you feel?"
I still had no idea what to say.
"Well, let's be honest, you dress like a boss. But you have no hair."
"Oh you're talking about hair now? You have no idea. You should see me, son. I'm like Bob Marley down there."
"Oh my God. Please sir, I do not deserve that privilege.", I said, very close to puking.
"So, I go talk to her?", he questioned. "Might as well get this over with", I thought to myself.
"Yes.", I began, "Let me tell you exactly what you need to do. Go over there. Say hello. Tell her it's a great park but not too much information like who the contractor was and what cement was used."
"Go on.", he muttered.
"Play your military card. Because let's face it, that's the only card you have. Tell her about how you once saved the lives of an innocent mother and her infant child who were stuck in the crossfire of a gun battle between the army and militants somewhere on the border during the course of which you were shot in the right shoulder. That ought to do it."
"You think I can pull that off?", he asked.
"You're a horny 70 year old who goes to a park just to look at a woman. Come on.", I said.
"You're a genius, you realise that don't you?", he couldn't stop smiling, "Thanks, lad."
So, I sat at the stone bench sipping coffee as my old pupil walked out of the park with the old lady.
What was gorgeous Sunday morning.
5:42 AM. Huh.
I looked out the window. The sun was half up. And my God, it looked beautiful. Aah, the tender chirping of parrots and pigeons had kept me up all bloody night. I looked at a dog barking on the street. No other life form in sight. Who the fuck are you barking at?
'How about I go running?', I asked myself. The outdoors look swell.
Tracks, shoes and headphones on, I was out. Holy Crap, it was cold. I ran on the lonely otherwise packed road with James Taylor singing in my ears. With the exception of the occasional paper delivery guy and the milk man, there was nobody awake. I also saw an old woman stealing flowers from the tree in someone Else's home. Cheap.
I ran for about 10 minutes and I reached a park. The sun was up. I went in, stretched a bit and sat down on a stone bench.
"When you give me that pretty little pout,
It turns me inside out.
There's something about you, baby!", I sang without really realising where I was. But hey, that's James Taylor.
"What the hell did you just say to me?", I heard a voice say.
I cut the music, turned around and saw an old man sitting next to me. "I'm sorry?"
"Are you hitting on me, boy?", the old man laughed.
"Is it working?", I winked. He burst into laughter. It was scary.
"I'm Retd. General Shankar Prasad.", he introduced himself.
"Aditya Bhat, sir!", I whipped my right hand in salute. Ha!
"What happened there?", he pointed to the plaster on my left hand.
"Aah, cricket injury. You've got your sacrifices, we've got ours."
"You're a funny young man!", he burst out laughing again. "Now tell me, he continued, "Why are you running in a park at 6 in the morning with a broken hand when the rest of your generation is asleep? Looking for women eh? Go to a mall."
"You sly man", I smiled, "I can't play for 6 months with this injury, might as well keep fit."
"Good on you. You want to know the real reason I come here?", he leaned forward.
"Because you need all the fresh air you can get to survive?", I quipped. This old man would not kill me if I even made fun of his manhood.
"Look at that woman over there?", he pointed his finger out, "That's Geeta. I love her."
"Are you mad!", I jumped.
"Settle down, son. I've lost my wife. My kids live in London. What's my fault?", he said.
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"I sit here everyday across her trying to muster up the courage to just talk to her. Her husband's dead too. If I could just ask her out, once.."
"You come here everyday? You horny bastard.", I laughed.
"Are you going to help me or not?", he said, " What's wrong with me? I look great don't I?".
This conversation had reached escalating degrees of awkwardness. 15 minutes ago, I was just a guy walking in a park, listening to his music, minding his own business. Suddenly, I'm helping a 70 year old man get laid.
How does this seem to happen to me?
"Oh yes, you look ravishing.", I quipped.
"Tell you what, we're going to go have coffee and you are helping me.", he suddenly sounded strict.
"Sir, yes, sir!".
At the coffee stall, with a coffee cup in hand, he began again. "So, what do you feel?"
I still had no idea what to say.
"Well, let's be honest, you dress like a boss. But you have no hair."
"Oh you're talking about hair now? You have no idea. You should see me, son. I'm like Bob Marley down there."
"Oh my God. Please sir, I do not deserve that privilege.", I said, very close to puking.
"So, I go talk to her?", he questioned. "Might as well get this over with", I thought to myself.
"Yes.", I began, "Let me tell you exactly what you need to do. Go over there. Say hello. Tell her it's a great park but not too much information like who the contractor was and what cement was used."
"Go on.", he muttered.
"Play your military card. Because let's face it, that's the only card you have. Tell her about how you once saved the lives of an innocent mother and her infant child who were stuck in the crossfire of a gun battle between the army and militants somewhere on the border during the course of which you were shot in the right shoulder. That ought to do it."
"You think I can pull that off?", he asked.
"You're a horny 70 year old who goes to a park just to look at a woman. Come on.", I said.
"You're a genius, you realise that don't you?", he couldn't stop smiling, "Thanks, lad."
So, I sat at the stone bench sipping coffee as my old pupil walked out of the park with the old lady.
What was gorgeous Sunday morning.
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