the test.

Picture this:

You’re in your room and it’s a Friday. You go off to sleep casually over some Holden Caulfield or Howard Roark stuff. Now when you wake up on Saturday morning you find the whole world has gone for a vacation. Yes, that’s right – a vacation, and you don’t know where they’ve gone. Could be Mars, Jupiter or even Pluto if you’re an optimist. But it’s the whole world, and they’ve just all disappeared. So we’ve got you, a pair of made-in-Sri Lanka Banana Republic boxers (ladies take your pick – Cavalli, eh?), a tee, a lamp, a laptop with a few Mira Nair-esque and Nolan-esque movies, an iPod with some Audioslave or Rafi tunes, a book each by Neruda, Huxley and Gibran. Alright, if you’re pressin’ it like Presley (wreck) then some smokes, grass, acid or any of those date rape drugs. But yeah, it’s you and these things, everybody else is on a vacation. And they’ve locked their rooms/houses. And we’d give you food enough to survive it. Think you’ll swim through?

But, Murphy thus spake and the World decided to stay on for another year. NOW, would you make it? Give it a serious thought.

Absolutely and utterly crappy.

Yes, I’m reading Chekhov and listening to the chosen one (of the Kalpen Patel-when-Ashoke-dies in the Namesake fame).

Cynic skeap.

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~ by Shashank Kumar on August 17, 2007.

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