Tales from the AbusrdLet's not forget that familiarity is the architect of all our contempt in life. In this illusory world of social media, your affections are as one-sided as a debate in an echo chamber. Take it from one who has sailed these killing fields. On my maiden voyage into the tempestuous seas of digital romance—courtesy of the dating app. I too was smitten by a digital deity whose profile was a symphony of aesthetic pleasure and adventurous pursuits. It almost seemed like a match made in heaven brought together by the whims of the ‘bumbly’ algorithm. It was our mutual preference for ‘Infernal Affairs’ over the Scorsese's remake that did the trick for me.
Our textual dalliance of wit and words culminated in a rendezvous amidst the colonial charm of Colaba. Yet, alas, it was not the face but the intent that was the grand illusion. My enchantress, it turned out, had a very real-world script in mind, with a twist that would have made Mr M. Night Shyamalan blush. I was quoted a clear-cut tariff of Rs. 8000/-, a friend’s price (it seems), for the desired company in the locale of my choosing.
The chivalrous (and almost broke) budding lawyer that I was, I found myself quickly mulling over the fiscal dynamics of this amorous enterprise. With masterful sleight of hand, I furtively inspected the meager contents of my wallet, followed by a fleeting glance at my banking app beneath the table's shroud. But the coffers of a budding legal eagle aren't exactly the stuff of fortunes. As the negotiation unfolded, I found myself in the throes of an absurdist play, where the cost of courtship had been unveiled devoid of any sentimental baggage.
So there I was, retreating to my grand 1 RK, poorer by Rs. 5000/- and my dreams of love punched in the gut. I couldn't help but snicker at the joke life had just played on me. In this bizarre bazaar of ‘lou’, buyers are to beware.
Our textual dalliance of wit and words culminated in a rendezvous amidst the colonial charm of Colaba. Yet, alas, it was not the face but the intent that was the grand illusion. My enchantress, it turned out, had a very real-world script in mind, with a twist that would have made Mr M. Night Shyamalan blush. I was quoted a clear-cut tariff of Rs. 8000/-, a friend’s price (it seems), for the desired company in the locale of my choosing.
The chivalrous (and almost broke) budding lawyer that I was, I found myself quickly mulling over the fiscal dynamics of this amorous enterprise. With masterful sleight of hand, I furtively inspected the meager contents of my wallet, followed by a fleeting glance at my banking app beneath the table's shroud. But the coffers of a budding legal eagle aren't exactly the stuff of fortunes. As the negotiation unfolded, I found myself in the throes of an absurdist play, where the cost of courtship had been unveiled devoid of any sentimental baggage.
So there I was, retreating to my grand 1 RK, poorer by Rs. 5000/- and my dreams of love punched in the gut. I couldn't help but snicker at the joke life had just played on me. In this bizarre bazaar of ‘lou’, buyers are to beware.