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Archive for September 19th, 2008

I had an interview yesterday. You know, what a writer’s life is like etc. So this fresh-faced young journalist arrived. She was star struck which made me feel kinda good because I’m not a celeb. Forget people on the streets, recently when I had lunch with my publisher, she didn’t recognize me. Okay, that’s an exaggeration but I was so mortified that she might not recognize me that I messaged her in advance about what I was wearing. Of course, then she breezed in and spotted me right away. She approached me without hesitation and greeted me like we’ve been lifelong friends who had just had a dinner together last night. I still don’t know whether she would have known me had I not messaged her my attire.

The moment she saw me, the journalist looked mortified. I don’t know what she was expecting but a scruffy, unwashed person lounging around in a tattered tee and tracks was not it. She started to apologize thinking she had arrived too early. But when I reassured that indeed she had not, that I lounge around like this all day unless I have to go somewhere, her face fell. I have a vague feeling that I made everything worse by allaying her apprehensions. Like I had ruined some cherished fantasy in which writers (female ones, at any rate) dress in gossamer silk and drape themselves on sofas, sipping umbrella drinks and smoking slim cigarettes off a cigarette holder, waiting for inspiration to strike.

I hated having to disabuse her of the notion. But it is true that I often don’t bother to dress up before seven in the evening unless I have to go somewhere earlier. In fact, I am so fond of my ultra casual clothing that I resist all attempts to leave home before seven p.m. And then too I agree only if the proposed visit is to a pub. Okay, that is a joke. I also agree to restaurants and other such places that serve alcohol (another joke. I’m on fire!). During the day I only make exceptions for my bank manager and chartered account. Luckily most of the times I can get away with it citing reasons of the all-important but fleeting visit of my muse.

TO BE CONTD…. 

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