Where we sleep face down on the cold floor, painfully aware that our noses will never support our body weight

There is a lot you can learn from sleeping on the floor.

Identify people by the sound of their feet, the one’s who shuffle slowly with old bones and older feet. The ones who stomp their way here and there, sometimes with those anklets going all chrr chrrr in the background.

There is a lot you can learn.

Learning is a lot like going to sleep and having a dream except it is a lot slower and sometimes you are not asleep at all.

This sleep fucker is also one more.

Anyway. Was having me this delicious chicken cutlet today. unfucking believable. Cause it was covered with this light coating of egg white (like a kobiraji but bit more delicate) and it was a mix of crisp and soft and I was all like “I WILL EAT YOU”.

Wait a minute.

Horses for courses.

I really don’t like the fact that those two dont rhyme. Yet have been forced together into one saying. Like cousins who hate each other but are forced to sit in the same room. Side by side. As the will of their late grandfather is being read out.

If I ever wrote a will, it would be in Italian. Or maybe Gujarati just to fuck with people’s minds.

If I had a school, the school song would definitely be in Italian. Like for sure. And I would force everyone to learn to march ulta pulta, with each side’s hand and leg going in the same direction. I always thought that is far more difficult than this alternative shit we are taught to do.

And there would be biryani in the canteen. For all those poor chubby fuckers who dreamt and dreamt of food during class and waited for the canteen hour to start only to find a tiffin box filled with vegetables and rotis. Those poor fuckers.

Oo la la is one of those terms that was once sexy but will never ever be again. Like even if you saw a black and white version of “oo la la” you won’t find it sexy. Ever.

Oo la la.

That would be how my students would be forced to greet the teacher. No “good morrrrrrning Mrs……’  but “oooo la la Mrs….”


Admissions opening next summer. Donations widely accepted. Receipt on demand.

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