Get me more Choglet

If my father could have seen me, cooking badhakopi at 3.45 in the morning, he would probably have said in disgust, erom uronchondipona keno? Sometimes, when I am washing dishes at the kitchen sink, I wonder if baba is standing behind me. And I half-believe that since I am thinking it, it must be so. And then I tell myself in despair, there is nothing beyond death. But I don't really believe that. Though it does not help, because I can't reach out beyond life.

The badhakopi refuses to get done, much like the gajorer halua. And I am not eating anything tonight, because it's too much of a hassle, plus all the cooking smells never make me feel like eating what I've just cooked. It would be lovely if I could have a mild, soft, delicious steak with potato mash. What a firingi I am talking like.

And apart from that, bad, bad day at work. Looking ahead to a day just as bad, hoping to be able to get chhuti approved, the very tiring day before yesterday, but shopping. And then a 10-hour sleep.

What would it be like to go home. I have wanted it so much that I am ragged with wanting. It is not even enjoyment, or delicious anticipation. I just want to get home and sink my head on my old, flattened pillow and go to sleep with my dog early one morning. And wake up late in the afternoon and eat lunch and fight with my mother.