Sunday, September 22, 2013

Foggy Glasses

I stand here on a treadmill. I’m looking out into the night to see twinkling lights in the sky and cramped apartments blocking everything in this little suburban village of mine. The mosquitoes dance around outside like little fireflies. These little blood-sucking monsters dance up and down my bare legs and leave little bumps on my skin. There’s a cool breeze gently caressing and teasing my hair. It leaves goose bumps up and down my spine and I shiver from the coolness. The festivities for Vinayaka are still in full swing with drum beats sounding in the distance. The noises somehow make this night more peaceful than usual. My fingers trace along my collarbone and all its little crevices. Colors dance in front of my eyelids and I open them to see flames. A campfire erupts next door and seated next to it are three very bald men. They each have a smart phone out in their hands and an abundance of alcohol to last the night. They lean back in their seats and laugh about something stupid. Do you know I’m up here? I see you, silly little men. I see you're up to your usual games. You tell your mother good night but what you’re waiting for is for her to fall asleep so you’re friends and you can have a few to drink. The fire crackles and I can feel the warmth all the way up here. They each have a dinner plate in their hands, filled to the brim with Biryani. Lying next to one of the men’s foot is a Coke bottle and a whiskey bottle. How do I even know it’s whiskey? The things I pick up from random conversations still surprises me. A car alarm sounds off on the next street over and leaves my eardrums tingling. I can hear dogs howling in the dump in front of the house in perfect synchronization. Smells waft into my nose from downstairs and fog up my glasses. A new bottle has now been added; a vodka bottle with a bright orange cap. The inverter beeps in the background causing me to jump. Uh, the smell of burnt wood hangs in the air around the airheads and sets them into a fit of coughing. Now that I notice, they’re all sitting around in their boxers. It’s always baffled me how some people think it’s weird that girls wear boxers. Boxer shorts are probably my favorite things to wear. I was hoping to go for a midnight stroll today but I’d better be getting to bed soon as part of my pledge to improve my sleeping patterns. 

All of a sudden I went into secret spy sleuthing mode. I opened the house door and then the netted iron door beyond that ever so carefully before picking up my adida’s flip flops and made myself out on my tiptoes while praying that my Mom shouldn't wake up. Once out I stood in the cold for a moment, watching the shadows dance along the wall along with the flames. I hope the guys don’t see me, they’ll think I’m spying. I kind of was, but still. I tiptoe up the stairs to the terrace diverting my shadow from their view. I stand on the terrace with hands wrapped around myself. I don’t mind the cold… Tank tops and boxer shorts are the absolute best.

There are four apartments on my street, two of which face away from my house. Most of the lights are turned off in their homes but some bed lights are left on for the little ones. I hear cackling laughter from next door and decide it’s better to go back inside now. I repeat the process of silently sneaking back inside and sliding the locks into place before leaving my flip flops on the floor.
I’m back on the treadmill, sitting with my legs crossed and laptop resting on the flooring of the treadmill. The guys next door seem tipsy now, singing songs and dancing around the fire. One of them decided to do Gangam style and epicly fail at it. Now they’re playing the popular Lungi dance song. *Thalaiva* God, I find it annoying when other people obsess over that song though.

Drunken people always have an interesting perspective on life. It’s pretty entertaining to watch them go from “slightly loony” to “What’s my name?!” Haha. They’re pretty good singers, though. It’s hard to stop myself from singing along with them. It’s a catchy song!
My neighbor always had pretty good taste in music unlike his horrid sister whose favorite hobby is yelling at people.

Oh my goodness. I take it back. They suck at singing. This is too funny. I’m going to die. xD            
 He’s trying to sing a remix now. Oh god, he’s so stupid.
Here's the link to him singing. I can't upload it properly on Blogger. So,

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