A Life Full of Compromises

“Where’s sabzi?”My mother asked the woman innocently.

“No sabzi. That’s for supper. “


After the admission, we checked a few PG accommodations. There weren’t many choices, and so, we settled for a quiet place in Naveen Shahadra that met all my conditions – a window, natural light, and no roommates. After making the payment and accommodating stuffs in the room, we went to check the mess.

Tomar Mess is the only mess available here, I guess, because it charges a freaking 3000 bucks even though its menu consists of aaloo paranthas seven days a week, every morning. A woman welcomed us and took the money and since we were hungry, we finished the small talks soon and ran for food.

I was aghast when I saw the dinner plate in Tomar PG. It was Dal and Roti. Just that. No pickles or chutneys or sauce or jam or salads or raita or any goddamn supplement. I mean when you pay 3000 bucks for food, you expect your dinner to be a proper heavy diet, or at least something better than a plain tasteless dal, and disc sized chapatis which lack the softness and warmth of home-cooked food. I made an unfortunate decision – I realised as I saw the plate.

“Where’s sabzi?”My mother asked the woman innocently.

“No sabzi. That’s for supper. “She said, as if it was an obvious thing and we should have known that before making the payment.

We exchanged mortified looks and settled in the chairs. We ate quietly and left the mess.

“What the hell was that? “I asked my mother.

“Such materialistic people. “My mother shook her head and told me to bear it for a month and then look for some other mess.

She left for Ghaziyabaad the next day, and as I saw her stepping into the auto and craning her neck out and waving at me, I felt these lumps in my throat. I kept looking in her direction even after she was gone, hoping the auto would break down and she’d return. She didn’t, and I trudged back to my room with a goliath emptiness in my heart. You know what, you can love your girlfriend like hell, but you cannot love her more than your mother. Mothers are lifelines.

College was nice, but charming boys had already broken into the female territory, so I just hung out with boys, or mostly with the chess game in my android.
The teachers here are good at their job – that’s the only positive thing about them. There aren’t many hot girls in my class, and the only few haven’t yet accepted my friend request. We’ve made groups and they are nice people, and college is kind of fun.

However, the network sucks at my room. Plus, the chemically-treated drinking water makes my guts twist and turn and roll and want to leave my body. Then, the ceiling fan makes irritating noises every once in a while.

I tried to be friends with my lodgemates and so I invited one for a chess match series. I sweeped the series and thus blew my first chance to make friends. He had stormed out with a frown that day, and to compensate for my insane act, I’d to install Mini Militia and get killed 21 times in a row, twice with a sixer. We are kind of friends now.

That apart, I am talking to Doctor these days. She is wackier than before, but I kind of like it.

Well, to be honest, I feel very alone inside. I don’t know what to fill these blanks with. The people outside just don’t fit in my jigsaw puzzle, and I don’t want to try any more of them. I guess I’ll heal eventually, even though I don’t even know what the hell my pain is.

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