Ramakant Yadav the Internet edition

Random Ramblings Of Ramakant Yadav

7 March 2011



I was sitting in my study the other day[yes I have a study, a complete room, all for me and my documents, eat your hearts out] staring quietly out of the window, listening to the sound of pigeons fluttering about in the sunlight, enjoying the lazy early spring afternoon. There is nothing more idyllic then the sound of pigeons and other assorted birds fluttering about in the early afternoon. Suddenly, I heard the sound of feet, mounting the steps to our front door and lo and behold, someone rang the doorbell. I jumped up excitedly from my reverie and bounded towards the door hoping a find the pizza delivery man, on an errand to deliver a pre-paid pizza to the wrong address. My soaring hopes were cruelly dashed when I opened the door and found myself standing face to face with a bald man holding a register in his hand. There was a low-slung cloth bag on his left shoulder filled with a messy assortment of documents.
"Ramakant?" he asked with a gruff voice.
"Yes" I replied, trying to sound more confident then I actually felt.
"Sign here", he said, thrusting the register towards me.
I squinted at the professed document, trying to make out what he was trying to have me sign. A lease agreement perhaps, or maybe he was one of the representatives of the mafia, and this was one of their "methods": Call on unsuspecting people and have them sign unknown documents which can be upheld in a court of law. Shakespeare's "there is a tide in the affairs of men.Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune" came to mind. I wondered if this was such a time. What would happen if I punched the bald headed person, and shut the door? Would I be safe inside the house? Was this man alone, or did he have accomplices, waiting around the corner, waiting for a pre-arranged signal to pounce on me? Would I ever be safe, would the members of the mafia follow me across the seven seas in an unrelenting quest for revenge? All this and other mundane thoughts, which I don't recall anymore, flooded my mind as I began the read the large heading at the top of the document. "Courier Receipt Form" it said, in bold letters. Hmmm, my vision of a swashbuckling life lived on the high seas, being chased by shadowy mafia agents and their equally shadowy accomplices were not to be realized. Again Shakespeare came to my mind "Omitted, all the voyage of their life, Is bound in shallows and in miseries". Maybe I should not be reading so much Shakespeare.

With mild irritation at being cheated out of a glamorous future full of beautiful female agents and fast cars, I signed for the courier and returned the register. With all the flourish of a professional magician, the bald courier man, pulled out an envelope which was boldly superscribed "PHONE BILL".

I took it and closed the door and decided to postpone opening the envelope and its mundane contents to later in the day, choosing instead to wallow in the shallows for some more time and drown my sorrows in the depths of nonchalance.



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