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LIFE AND LIES #65 | Neil Nitin Mukesh (#3)


The night lengthened at its usual pace. Soon, Sunday would turn into Monday. Even the mere thought was depressing for Mukesh, who sat in his living room, just beside the window, holding a lit cigarette.

“When I was a kid, I used to love Mondays,” he said, letting out a puff of smoke. “Don’t know what happened.”

Sitting opposite to him, Nitin was quick with a reply, “Life happened.”

That was followed by a long bellow and a hand gesture by a drunk Neil, “Nooo… job happened.”

“That’s true, I guess,” said Mukesh. “I went to the mall yesterday…”

“Did you…” Neil interrupted him but Mukesh cut him short. “No, I didn’t meet Robin Sparkles there.”

Neil laughed.

“While sitting in the food court, I couldn’t help but observe that everything seemed like clockwork, all around me.”

“For someone who likes wristwatches so much, this is paradoxical,” added Nitin.

“I’m thinking of finding a permanent WFH,” continued Mukesh. “Somewhere in a 3-tier city and settle there.”

“I’m telling you,” Neil sat up in excitement. “We need a detox. One boy's trip to Tajikistan or Issyk Kul.”

“He’s not looking for a detox,” replied Nitin. “But a cure.”

Neil came up with a witty retort, “Death is the only cure from a disease called life.”

“Like Albert Camus,” said Nitin. “Mukesh and I have already chosen coffee, that too black, over killing ourselves.”

“Let’s start a business,” Mukesh finally spoke. He was done with his cigarette. “Job sucks!”

“Honestly, that’s the dream, not being answerable to anyone,” Neil raised his glass to Mukesh, only to realise midway that Mukesh wasn’t drinking.”

“Not just that, I have realised that there is no better satisfaction than generating employment.”

“Yes, and you also get to utilise every hour productively.”

“True. And you go by your day with a sense of purpose.”

“I’m telling you, the three of us should move to Bishkek,” Neil was so excited that he spilled his drink a little. “First, we will set up a travel company, followed by a brewery and then a café. And once we have sufficient capital, a hospital.”

“So basically,” laughed Nitin. “Bring the tourists, get them drunk enough to be hospitalised, and once they recover, they can leave after having a cup of coffee.”

“Yes, we will have a vertically integrated supply chain.”

Nitin turned to Mukesh. “Don’t mind Neil. Live your dream. Open a café and serve your favourite English breakfast there. You can begin by opening one in your hometown; then the next one in Ladakh. Spend six months at each place. It would be amazing. We will come to visit sometime.”

“Seriously!” Mukesh grew a bit chipper than earlier. Meanwhile, the dreadful Monday crept closer and closer, the window grill casting a dark shadow on his face. 

***
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Also read, in the same series: 

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Original Art - 'The secular communion of everyday people.' by Duane Kirby Jensen 

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Location: Mumbai, Maharashtra, India

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