“Vimes smiled. Someone was trying to kill him, and that made him feel more alive than he had done for days.”
– Terry Pratchett, Men At Arms
Ok, so it’s not quite that dramatic. Nobody’s trying to kill me. As such.
But last weekend was a shitfilledcrapholefullofdeathgas. All of last week I was down with fever that the doctor assured me could be malaria. I had to go get jabbed in the arm twice – first to see if it’s malaria, then to make sure it’s not malaria. In the course of lying in bed, sweating and thinking delusional, manic-depressive thoughts, I declined chocolate cake, tandoori chicken and free alcohol. Yes, they’re ice skating down in Hell right now.
Despite all this wonderfulness, the reason I’m full of cheer is this:
This proves that all is indeed right with the world.
Sumana B. Jayanth, whoever you are, wherever you are, thank you. You have brought a ray of sunshine to my otherwise purposeless, bland, advertising life. Hamare khayal kitne milte-julte hain na? It’s like we’re soul sisters… or even the same person. The person who wrote this two years ago, in fact. But you already knew that, dintcha, you big fancy journalist you? What you don’t know is that as of today morning I’ve mailed your editor, a Mr. Ramakrishna. You might be hearing from him soon. God knows, both of you will be hearing from me. Or my legal counsel. Whoever is first able to tear their eyes away from ‘your’ fantastic piece of work…
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