Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Happy new year and all that. And let's not talk about career prospects and such stuff. That is about the only thing I get to overhear each time people are ringing out the old and ringing in the new.
And no no. My disinterest is not out of dissatisfaction. I do not dislike what I do. Suits me fine actually. Standing right there behind that curtain, I get all the stories I want. Keeps me going.
I remember saying I will tell you about my little game. The one I play on days when I do not need to do many dishes. I can afford dawdle then, so I notice the hands that place those dishes on the counter.
Did you know you could fall in love with hands? And the stories hands can tell! No man, not eyes! I am keeping out of that zone for a while. That zone demands too much of you.
There are hands and then there are hands. When I started out, I'd try and guess the gender. Oh no no! Don't brush that off! It is not as easy as you might think. Jewelry was never much of an indicator, I suppose. In my opinion, it does not give any clues. You either wear jewelry or you don't. I saw a big silver ring with intricate filigree work worn by a guy and a sturdy topaz and gold ring worn by a girl. The gender comes out in the way those hands are handling that plate they keep on the counter. Okay, hold on, I am not going to start on cliches now. I am not even going on that sherlockholmesian trial. You go play that game when you have time to kill. Why should I spoil your fun?
There is this guy with neatly clipped nails. The strange thing though is that they are clipped to look pointed. As if he takes the clipper and goes click from the right and then click form the left. Original! What do you think? Now is this guy like that with all that he does or is this a one off thing. Like you know, follow the book, day in and day out -- and there is all this originality itching to burst out. It comes out in one of the most 'mundane' chores.
And then there is this girl who carefully picks up her crushed paper cup and serviette from the plate, dumps them in the dustbin and then slides the plate carelessly over the counter. Reminds me of those drivers who rush into the traffic and drive recklessly till the traffic scares them. Then they dramatically slow down and start behaving like they are driving to qualify the driving license test. Oh yes, before you point out -- she does the exact opposite. But of course, the essence remains the same. Getting too scared of your impulsive actions and then zooming into the opposite direction. Similar to that glamourous mommy who darts her eyes in all directions before quickly wiping the mess created by her toddler. Really! How can she be seen bending in her designer jeans to behave like the women she despises?
My favourite though is the hand that gently places the plate on the counter and holds it, waiting for the pressure from my end, figuring out whether it slides into a machine or is picked up by a human hand. This person is interested in my existence. Are you surprise I wait, everyday, for this hand?

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