PEOPLE'S FIRST JUDGEMENT OF YOU.
..... But, how important their judgement is?
YOU ARE WHO YOU ARE.....
G was up early. The insomniac's head was bulging with quotes he had coined through the night and his imagination had suggested a new twist in the story he was working on. He hit his desk and began working.
The first tea came at 6:30 and two more followed at an interval of one hour each. Then, at 9:30 his wife called for the breakfast. He knew he cannot ignore it. He pressed 'Save' and got up.
While eating breakfast, he remembered that he had to go to the bank. He had forgotten to deposit the money in his account and could not delay it anymore.
He swallowed the remaining morsels and started immediately. On the way, he saw himself in the rear view mirror. "Crumpled T-shirt, salt-and-pepper stubble, messy hair and he was wearing slippers under the track pants. "Nothing is odd," he smiled and pressed the accelerator.
Reaching the bank, he checked himself again in the mirror. He looked tired, dishevelled and miserable. He did the only thing he could do; worked his fingers on his hair and went into the bank. He stood seventh in the queue. It did not take a long time when more people stood behind him than before him.
Two young men, just behind G were quacking nonstop since they'd arrived. One of them had business in the bank and the other guy just accompanied him. G, out of habit, was calmly listening to the babble of the .
They were engineering students. Their idle talks hopped from their college to the slow bank clerk at the counter, then to the news anchor on the silenced TV mounted on the back wall. Then to the blind clerk who distributed all sorts of forms. And then to G.
Before the taller, bearded fellow who was not in the queue, spoke the first sentence on G, he was enjoying their conversation. The strangest part was that he spoke it in English.
"He is here straight out of bed," the haughty young man said. It pinched G why his appearance didn't his academic credentials. Nevertheless, he didn't turn his head.
"He is wearing a red shirt like six others in this room," the boy standing behind G spoke.
"It seems men acquire a sort of affinity for this colour with age," the outsider spoke. His remarks were blunt.
"He doesn't seem poor but his lifestyle is certainly awful."
"Yeah. He doesn't his hair."
they paused to inhale air, G resisted replying them, not intending a confrontation but just telling them that he understood English.
"Such lazy people should go bald. That would save them some time to groom themselves."
"Yeah. Like Shakespeare's Othello."
Mention of the Shakespeare proved a spoiler.
G turned around and said, "Who told you that Othello was bald?"
His intrusion into their discussion was spontaneous. G too, didn't realize that he was restraining the same for a while.
Open-mouthed, they gawked at him as if he were a ghost. Then, guilt forced their eyes change the direction. Fortunately for them, the man behind them signalled G that it was his turn at the counter.
G came out and waited for the boys. He had made up his mind to finish it off.
They seemed assured that G had disappeared when they walked out of the bank. Their guilt had vanished and they laughed shamelessly.
A tussle was going on within G between his ego and his wisdom. Should he talk to the boys and ask them to explain how and why is the appearance of a person important?
Fighting with the dilemma, he kept looking at the boys who now, were walking away from him. He smiled and returned home.