What Happened To Vinod Today?

Breaking a Leg Meant No Harm

I was running for my life. Running after fulfilment, running from boredom, almost running over two puppies that meant no harm. On the run for one exchange. On the hunt for one last look. To tell her that the flight had left the runway and the book was waiting to be read. The book was in my bag along with the desire to read between the lines of flipping the pages and flipping her 180 degrees in the honour of the two puppies that meant no harm. One last session meant no harm.

The flight had left the runway indeed but with her in it. Sometimes, the key to your desire lies in the hands of your special one. And it was, with her, as the gates lay locked to her house that housed my one last desire for that day. To see her complete her reps. To see her follow her diet plan. To see her fake a smile as I almost hear the deep loving words echoing from every drop of sweat - 'fuck you.' She didn't miss her flight, but I missed her flight of stairs to her apartment and paid an early morning tribute to Renuka Shahane. The book in my bag was titled 'Who will cry when you die?' by Robin Sharma. I wondered who, as I yearned to listen to the sound of the ambulance before I die out of sheer panic and embarrassment.

My customers usually spell out deep loving words even more ardently when I admit that the books, the Robin Sharma ones, come with the package. Thank God for the anesthesia, lest my anger issues would have booked another hospital bed for this particular fellow who admitted me here. But this time, I deserved every bit of Anandi Sachdev, my first client, yelling out loud and clear, 'Fuck you, what were you thinking!'

'Thinking of fucking her one last time. It was leg day.'

'No, it was a day where your second leg got fucked.'

'Is the book in tact, in my bag?'

'You care about your stupid Robin Sharma books, really?'

'Fuck Sharmaji, there's a letter in that book that I wanted to give her.'

'Stop getting involved with your clients, you're 35 and your name is Vinod.'

'What's wrong with 'Vinod', man?'

'You're 'Vinod' and a man, it's worse! And nobody wants to be reminded of Kambli's crying face on national television.'

'I'm going bald, that's the real problem, right? Footballers are bald, Dwayne Johnson, Statham, fuck them! Shikhar Dhawan is bald! We need to normalise baldness and your shaming me isn't really..aahhhhhh my leeeeeg..'

'Shhhhhh Shikhar Dhawan just keeps his hair short, he's not bald and stop making everything about yourself!'

'The fuck, Anandi! Vinod is MY name!'

'So is for probably 50 lakh more people'

'But they won't cry for me when I die, Anandi, you will..'

'No no no..make no mistake. I will throw a party sponsored by Traya, a client that I don't get involved with romantically like, guess what, ALL OTHER CLIENTS!'

'I love you, Anandi. Why you being so rude? Don't you know I'm human too?'

'Go tell that to Anangsha, she's landed by now.'

I laughed out when I told myself, 'Go for it, break a leg, the other one now!' as I saw Anandi leave me to my misery, angrier than before, as she thought I laughed at her departure, literally behind her back.