The rain god wants to play generous this monsoon it seems. It’s been pouring incessantly since the last 2 days. Bollywood has long romanticized such weather in its clichéd rain and dance sequences but I find this weather rather depressing, and it makes me feel miserable. By lunch time I realize that another slow afternoon at the store beckons, time refuses to pass, I contemplate if it’s me who’s feeling sluggish or the needles in my watch have gone lazy. I climb up the stairs, shove open the store door, and turn up the kettle. The store is a dingy stuffy corner room, smelling heavily of decomposing cardboard cartons, the air is almost suffocating on a humid day like today. Stacks of cardboard boxes lie against the two walls of the room, some unpacked and some still packed with fresh merchandise for this season. Despite its shabby appearance the store offers a refuge from the loud music that reverberates on the shop-floor.
I rest myself on a carton next to the table and light up a smoke allowing the nicotine rush to relax my over worked brain cells. A nihilistic thought dwells in my mind as I find myself struggling to answer the question emerging within my head. “Why do I feel alone despite being amongst so many people?” I think as I pour coffee in my mug. Maybe I know the answer - It’s because I’m invisible, no not physically, but the real me remains ever hidden. I’m nothing but an animated part of the store’s furniture. Nothing but a number on the company’s records. Nothing but a salesman