The Cute Grandpa
Thursday with the usual commute — I claimed my aisle seat in the bustle of a first class compartment of the local train somewhere near Dadar, which if you’ve lived in Bombay long enough, you’d realize you’re paying seven times the price of the regular fare for seven times the crowd during rush hour. Curiously and out of sheer boredom, I looked around to observe my surroundings. You’ve got the yawners, the casual small-talkers, the ones fighting over the accidental nudge amidst the crowd and of course, King Digital’s biggest investors — Candy Crush players.
You know how they say what you’re looking for was with you all along?
Yeah, well, I chanced upon something to feed my curiosity precisely to my right. There was a comfortable old man, at a guessable 75, very content as you could tell from his wrinkle free forehead sitting right beside me. He was observing the madness around him just the way I did. His finely checked blue shirt with pocket overflowing with folded sheets which were probably the customer copies of a bank slip rested firmly within the seams. He couldn’t seem to care less about thick sweaty air which made the compartment feel like a tandoor or about the hullabaloo created by the rat-race victims of society verbally cussing over who prodded whom.
He was happy. I looked up at him, nay, I looked up to him.
If I could be half as happy when I reached half his age I’d know I was headed right in life.
He pushed the bridge of his spectacles back to his face and slowly reached out to his pocket to retrieve his well kept android smartphone which seemed like quite the investment. A quick swipe, a couple of taps and he opens his WhatsApp to browse through forwards of the last couple of hours. Nothing too surprising — jesus quotes and dog pictures floating about.
Disinterestedly he shut the app and quickly fired up the next one — that’s what left me aghast for the next few stops dear lord have mercy on me.
He flips his phone sideways and the screen shifts to landscape mode. I couldn’t see what app he opened but the next thing I could catch a glimpse of were four distinct coloured hazed panels, each with a clear timestamp. This mafuckin’ creep had security feed straight to his phone — FROM HIS HOUSE.
Why on earth would anyone shove cameras all over the feckin’ house? He zoomed into the first panel which displayed someone who seemed to be his wife. She was sitting on the floor, starting at the television while peeling potatoes — throws her dupatta back on her shoulder. On the second panel, you could see a kid, probably an early tween, taking a stab at the day’s homework. The third panel was a directed diagonal top shot of his queen sized bed — sick dude! She be nappin’ while he be fappin’! That shit is probably on all day. The last one displayed a black screen but without giving him the benefit, I guessed it was the friggin’ bathroom.
Is there no concept of privacy? I sincerely hope he’s not the kind of sick fuck who watches his wife and those children do their business and see his own name roll up as credits once the show is over.
