She introduced herself as a VMC employee and asked me to pay user charges for garbage clearance. When I agreed to pay, she seemed surprised. And when I did give the money, she thanked me effusively. It was then that I realized that I should have consulted my neighbours before parting with the money. A fool and his money, as it is wisely said, are soon parted. She was grinning from ear to ear at her success in collecting garbage money from at least one person in the apartment complex, if not the entire colony, and the effort pulled down her face mask, which was a poor apology for one, revealing a set of sparkling white teeth against the background of a dark face, shiny with sweat. She kept chatting as she issued an e-receipt, and an interesting conversation ensued. In Telugu, by and large.
‘What do you do, sir?’ she asked me.
‘I’m a teacher,’ I said.
‘Where, sir?’
‘For the better part of my career, at Loyola College. Now somewhere else.’
‘Oh, a lecturer, not a teacher! I did my BSc at Loyola, sir – from 1998 to 2000.’
‘Then you know me very well, I guess.’
‘No, sir, I never saw you at Loyola.’
‘Not once during those three years?’
‘Not at all, sir.’
‘Hmm… Who taught you English in your BSc?’
‘Tall ka, dark ka vuna oka atanu vachadu... When did you retire, sir?’
‘From Loyola? In 2013. Then I moved to Vignan University as Director, Training.’
‘Oh, Vignan! Sir, I did my MSc Biochemistry at Vignan University. It looks as though wherever I went…’
‘I know – I arrived on the scene! Rather, I was there already – a blot on the landscape! Of course, without being noticed by you.’
‘How come, sir?’
‘I guess I have been chasing you – without being seen by you and without my being aware of it.’
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