Thursday, July 26, 2012

Mind yer own booswax.

As time ticked by, people grew richer and houses grew smaller. Back then he had been so highly regarded, living in the attic and popping out every now and then to give his homeowners a bit of a fright. He was respected in the community, a role model. Now the only place he could get any peace and quiet was in that little box under the table. It lay silent all day when the brats were at school and he could ruminate in peace about all that had been. But in the evenings, lord, what a racket! A constant hammering and whirring.  Every few days he would lose his temper, stick his head out the box, right out of the Esc. key and crankily ask the kids to go out and play badminton or something, because all that typing was giving him a headache. Oh, how they laughed at him.

This was humiliating.

You gotta feel bad for old fashioned ghosts in this time and age. They must be damn bewildered. They can’t even commit suicide.


korak datta said...

A reflection on the changes in the Society ;-)

DO watch/read about a film made on the same lines this year in Bengal.


Punvati said...

Hahaha this sounds like a fun movie :D