Bad Old Monday

Monday. New week. Fresh day. So, I see the lift showing 9 (well,thats my floor) and a feeling of being lucky, the god-really-is-by-my-side lucky fills my head and I rush, with all the energy I can gather in that reaction time of one second, aiming for the handle. Just to mention, the cause of being so unbelievably dramatic in the expression is because my bus leaves at quarter to seven and there are hardly a couple of minutes left for that to happen which is not very amusing. And then, just the second my fingertip touches the handle, all of a sudden I am beaten by someone who is so much better, who pushes the button just before I do (and is always, well not  necessarily, but in my case yes, at the ground floor). Now the lift, taking my hopes along with it, reaches the ground floor.

The next thirty seconds are the most restless seconds of my life. And then, I get a second chance and the portable room of mobility marks its presence in front of my eyes. But this is when the dry fruits call out to my mother "What kind of a mother are you? You dont give us to your daughter?" which drives my mother to the jar and makes her pour out more nuts than her hand can actually handle. Throughout this process I stand with the door of the lift open trying to shield myself from the deadly looks of the most irritated lady who stares at me, as far as I have noticed, without blinking. 

Then the second half begins. Long before I reach my destination the lift stops at the seventh floor andthe mother in law of my mother's friend, enters. This lady remembers everything, believe me, everything, except for the fact that it has been more than 3 years that I lost my braces. So, she asks for the millionth time in the same month "beta toh braces chale gaye??" All I do is nod and try not to put my head through the buttonboard. I can still put up with that, but then the most elderly couple, whom I believe to have celebrated their golden jublee twice, begin to enter. They are peaceful and the clock is really a mere object with needles to them. They take one second for each step which feels like little infinities to me not that I am disrespectful but that I really am not in a position to be understanding.

The last few seconds actually aim at making me lose faith in everything. The lift stops with a thud at every floor because of some unbelievably senseless kid who ran down the stairs pushing every button he possibly could and successfully adding a point to the list of reasons why I hate kids. After all this struggle I finally see the number which makes me as happy as it makes Nobita sad and I figure my way out irrespective of what happens to the nearby humans, battling the ones who try to enter the lift before the ones inside exit. 

Well, this isn't the end of the morning struggle but its enough for now. This really didn't feel like 40 seconds, did it? 

It doesn't to me either.