Chill Gunshot Piercing It began, as all life-altering decisions do, with someone else’s fashion. My younger cousin walked in wearing purple ear studs—confident, casual, as if he had always been this stylish creature. I looked at him. He looked at me. The studs looked back at me and whispered, “Upgrade pending…” My wife sealed the matter in one line: “You will look good.” That was it. Proposal passed. No further discussion. A few days later, we went to the jeweller’s shop to buy a chain for our daughter. A normal, respectable outing. But destiny had other plans… and a small device that makes a sound like a stapler with attitude. My five-year-old grandson came along, purely for moral support—his own, not mine. The jeweller inspected my ears like an archaeologist discovering ancient ruins. “Ah! Old holes are there,” he declared, as if announcing hidden treasure. My wife took charge. She marked the exact spot on my earlobes with the seriousness of a surgeon and the confidence of ...
Good: Sunday. Sleepily touched the roofs with a stick to clear the cow webs. Just squeezed the whites of Santosh. Watched 'meendum meendum'. Listened to 'Neyayave Devaru' Soundtrack on Radio. Again Sun TV "Malabar Police"
Bad: Jani and Santosh left for a trip: With Pitchappa and family towards Sirsi side. Marikamba and all. We miss them. The day was boring.
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