Well, I was going to write about theexciting time I’ve had all fortnight, avoiding people and refusinginvitations, but instead, tonight (yes, it IS night, as I write this) (Inearly always write at night) (if you stick around and read between all thebrackets that will appear in this piece, you may discover why) (why I write atnight, that is) (mind you, I am not promising anything) (I said may) I’m goingto tell you about a visitor who rang the doorbell at 11.30 pm, about two hoursago.
I briefly considered not opening the door. But that would have been ridiculousbecause then I’d have died of curiosity. Here’s my advice: whenever you havea choice between dying by werewolf-at-the-door or by curiosity, choose thewerewolf.
Why? Listen, if you’ve got to ask, you shouldn’t be reading this columnanyway. Okay, so I opened the door. On the other side of it was a plump andsmiling man, waving an envelope in the air. He was from the High Commission of ANeighbouring Country. He was delivering an item of mail from a friend belongingto That Country, for the other inmate of this house.
Is this weird or what? I mean, what sort of person delivers non-essential mail(believe me, it was non-essential) (it wasn’t even for us) (and we’d got acopy of it earlier in the week anyway) half an hour before midnight?
Sadly, I didn’t ask him, so I’ll never know. And now I can tell you why Iwork at night. It’s coz of a relative lack of interruptions. See? I didn’teven have to use brackets to reveal this important truth (another reason is thatit brings out the werewolf in me) (if you want to avoid being devoured, youshould stop reading this right n-) (uh-oh) (*burp*) (and goodnight).
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This article originally appeared in Delhi City Limits, April 15, 2006
