Transformation ...........

 It was like just another day in my "Amazing" life as Trainee in the " Amazing"  Tata Motors.

 Bus dropped me at a walking distance from my building. There is park on the way. I used to hit the track regularly in the park  a few weeks back. It also had its own reason. My timing always "co-incidently" matched with the entry of a Hot chick. So, if she started running clockwise, my direction obviously would be anticlockwise or vice-verse . I always ran fast enough to cross her twice per round. But after 4 weeks of "BOLTING" , backaches and calf pulls , she didn't as much as look at your humble servant . My body finally refused to obey the orders from some vague part and finally the drudgery came to an end. 

At the entry gate of the park there is also a Momo wallah. After 6 pm there is a literally a stampede for the momos/dimsums.  But today me and my flat mate were the first " Boney customer" for the Momo wallahs. 

He asked to wait for about 10 -15 minutes in the park till our order was ready. No problems here. Its always  good to occupy a nice bench and appreciate the bounties nature has blessed us with. So far so good. There was a variety of people in the park, but majority were with Blank looks and ID cards hanging from their necks , the oppressed class to which i proudly belong  to( abi sirf training chal rahi h tabhi).

We both were sitting silently on the bench, which is impossible had two females been sitting there.

But after some time a young technocrat caught our eye. He was talking so loudly on phone that it didn't require sherlockian skills to decipher what the conversation was about.

We both exchanged looks and sighed .It was the same gf-bf saga 

kuch to....

suno to....

maine nai.....

sorry ....sorry ...Tear- your- hair- apart wala sorry

 It seemed as if he was fighting a court battle for a mass murderer who has pleaded guilty without his knowledge. There was no point. He was getting brick brats from i don't know which coordinates on earth, but his voice was getting lowered step by step.

So, finally we thought that he had  lost the already lost battle. Maybe for us it was comedy circus but the way he was looking it must have been a matter of life and death. After such a bout of exertion even Muhammed Ali would have asked for water .Our young technocrat found himself a bench next to us .Both his hands were on the bench and his head was pointing towards the heaven.Strangely instead of grim melancholic expression he was as if suppressing a smile.He brought his gaze down from the heaven and took a deep breath and relaxed. The transformation was remarkable.As if some different soul had entered his body. He loosened a button of his shirt , ruffled his hair  and started to whistle. Something inside me was utterly surprised at this spectacle and as soon as i  stood to talk to this Guy.

We heard another whistle , from the momo guy. Steaming overpriced  Momos with Gun Powder Paste were waiting for us.

Hunger pangs won over the curiosity as usual.