if there is an apocalypse beep me..

Buffy makes the apocalypse ordinary, an everyday activity that has to be dealt with. Sure, the world is ending, it was yesterday and today.. and it probably will end tomorrow as well. The thing is, what are you going to do about it. Are you going to quip your way through it - banter that exercises the brain to the point that the heart just sort of collapses as the runner up for your own attention. Or bang mirrors in random restaurants or kiss your reflection or generally have some kind of asinine communication with said mirror. Said mirrors I believe congregate at meets in far off cold cities in europe and generally compare trends on what girls/women breaking up do these days. Ofcourse it gets a little confusing what with the multiple reflections and them accusing each other of stealing their stories.

Little worlds are often jolted of course, very often. For me twice in the span of less than twelve months, and this is not counting the minor jolts in the middle or the general quakes of terra firma because of a relationship and sometimes even others over this time. Am I used to it? Hardly!! But this isn't about the imminent or ongoing apocalypse, its about what you say about it. And in my case, my conversation extends beyond the ridiculously high highs and pathetic lows with friends, to random communication with strangers.

One of the more exceptional ones has been with my new landlord, who in a very concerned voice asks me .. But your husband hasn't yet seen the flat? And me, beyond a state of wanting to dissemble, in a very distracted response said - Oh him, he's gone.

Where has he gone?
He's gone
... silence...more silence...
repeat .. eh.. he's gone....eh.... away ... he ...eh.. travels a lot .. (not a lie .. so why didn't I think of this earlier)
So he's gone (idiotic repeating)
Hmmm (now i'm worried, does my whole carefully constructed good married Indian girl (with nosering) image all for the sake of moving into a fairly decent flat with large rooms, become one of the casualties of the apocalypse)
But behold the strange response from the Muslim from Kerela, who I suspect is having a hot torrid affair with his sister in law, while his brother is away in Dubai (where else?) ....
So he's gone ... Hahaha ..
To which honestly all I could do was start laughing. You can pretend to fit in, twist the details of your life around to squeeze into some absurd conventional expectation .. but if you don't, you just don't.

The other interaction was with my real estate agent.. who looked at me, at a friend standing nearby and said ..
Woh kaha hai? (since he's actually met the alleged 'husband' and knows that he does have some corporeal reality)
Having gone through the complete inefficacy of 'he's gone'.. I decided to have an elaborate story this time, that I launched into complete with details of Phd, faraway land, travel and sundry details, stopping short of producing some kind of documentary proof. Ofcourse it was just as convincing .. and he eventually said..
Accha, to aapka koi aur flatmate hoga?