I managed, somehow, to develop a freaking strong cold. The chilly morning wind through my verandah made me shiver, and I cursed everything for that heavy lump in my skull. This had gone too far, I decided.
The scrambled egg stared at the ceiling, untouched, and I rustled past the food to hurry up. Autorickshaws or Cabs for hire are as rare as virgins in a whorehouse in Mohammadpur if it's one darned minute past eight. Every single day I get late in office, and it's not a thing I would say I'm proud of.
But this was not my lucky day to start a new life. I found myself waiting on the Thana Road, waiting for a cabbie or ciengiero (I coined this term for the cng-driven autorickshaw drivers, they play a major role in my life) to drive by and have some mercy on me. Mahakhali, where my fucking office is, proved to be a Zone of Eternal Repulsion for them. It's sometimes very difficult for me to check myself, not to hurl upon these bastards. Promise them the moon, but they won't bat an eyelid before refusing to go to Mahakhali.
I waited for half an hour, with the emerging sun banging on my head, feeling really sick. And after some hasty jogs, a kind looking guy condescended to carry me, ofcourse demanding an extra 30%. Fine. All I wanted was to get to the office, punch my bloody card, have some tea and get my ass off to one of my projects.
Piercing through excruciatingly thick traffic jam, I reached my office, obviously 45 minutes late, and trod along heavily to my jampacked room. Everybody was talking, or laughing or just sitting there, but the whole world seemed too freaking noisy to me. I began sneezing and as usual it became soaked with blood after a couple of zealous shots. I cursed again. Damn this cold.
Wasting a solid hour in my office, I started to Kachpur. My brain was literally pulsating under my forehead, and my throat felt like sandpaper. I wished I could kick someone really hard in the balls and get back home. But instead I started the boring meeting that really could piss me off. Thanks to Mr. Hussain, he has a peculiar way of intriguing people in problems related to Electrical Engineering. But hey, I'm not saying that it made me feel better ... it just didn't deteriorate my coldie cold mood anymore.
The meeting was long and thorough, and I didn't feel like having lunch then and there, though the cook in that industry proved himself as an excellent one. I cried inside to lie down on my bed. My head was making me suffer. But it was a long day ahead, and I had to walk 2 km to get to the nearest bus stop.
I managed my panting breath when I got to the bus at last. And I stood all the way from Kachpur to gulistan on that rugged bus, trying to stiffle my cough and to ignore the dried up feeling inside my chest.
When I got back home, everything was glittering in front of my eyes. I feebly washed myself, hardly ate something and lied down on my bed. I could feel the fever shivering along my spines.
I slept for an hour or so ... and woke up with a deafening headache. I wasn't sure if I accidentally shoved something up my brain or not. And I don't remember how I managed to pass seven long hours before I sat down and started writing this blog.
I tried reading a bit ... perusing through our surprisingly promising stack of books in the library. Every name came bouncing in front of my eyes, and I tiredly retired ... this cold was killing me, really.
But colds and fevers are fidel in a sense. They are there, when you need someone to shift the blame on.
