GS' Beats

It was all smokes. And almost dark. There were lights. The ones with the yellowish glow. Round ones without the filament. Almost thirty in numbers. Along the wall. But they were covered by smokescreens and translucent glasses of multiple colours. There was maroonish red, blackish green, navy blue. There was light. From more than adequate sources. Enough the lighten up a hall ten times the size. Still it was dark. ‘Huh…. ambience, eh?’ Siva sighed, nibbling the chip with his lips. He sat alone, in the centre most table. The area that was least crowded, and farthest from the light spots. The larger lots were occupying the ones along the wall. Just below the lights. They came in groups, went in groups. Some celebrating. Some debating. Some where shouting. Some whining. Few were monks. Complete pandemonium around, they remained blissfully at peace with themselves. Unaware of the pleasure around, or the pain around. “Target, targets, targets…. My boss screws me every day. He fixes a target....

Today: The security raised his hands to signal good evening, and Edward slowed down his bike and reciprocated. Parked his bike and noticed certain bunch of covers and envelopes in the mail box, picked them and climbed up the stairs without removing his helmet. Telephone bill, credit card statements, some investor magazines, couple of covers from watch shops and garment dealers, three wedding invitations. He pressed the buzzer and his dad opened the door. "How was the day?" "Good, pa." He handed over the envelopes to his dad, ambled to his room. Helmet was placed on the cot, back pack thrown besides the computer table, shoes came sliding to the main door from his room, socks and shirts found their way to the washing machine. He wore a shorts and a tee and came out of the room, asking for dinner to his ma. "Wash your face atleast." Mother pleaded from the kitchen. "Atleast wipe it clean of the sweat and dirt." Edward went into the kitchen. Held his...