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Bad Seniors

The days were miserable, the nights not much better. Monsoons had started in full swing and I often got back to my hostel room soaked in the unpredictable rain. The evenings were then spent killing time with my buddies–chatting, playing cricket in the hostel courtyard or watching movies. Nobody had a car, so we couldn’t go out and do anything. Campus gates closed at ten anyway. It just wasn’t worth the hassle of catching three Delhi buses for a few hours of partying.

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The Counselor

Robots are weird. They are obsessed with following the links of causes all the way back to their origin so they can explain who they are now with mathematical precision. They also feel they can change their life at any moment by making free choices. In my sessions with them, I never mention this contradiction. It doesn’t help.

The day she first came to my office, the sun was so strong I had to draw the heavy curtains. Even then the room felt too bright. A hundred cloudy days and suddenly it decides to show its full face. The sun can be wily like that.

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The Secretary

Julia was pissed at me today. She didn’t say it, she never does. But I could tell from the way she put her orange juice on the table with a thud, the way she looked at me in quick glances when I asked her about her plans for the day, and the way she hit the gas extra hard as she drove out.

When I think more about it, I realize she’s been mad at me for many weeks now. Ever since I accepted the position. First, I thought she was jealous that I was now making more money than her with easier hours. But no, it’s more than that. I’ve heard her chat with her friends when she thinks I am not listening. “I can’t believe he took a position with them.” I heard her say once. “He was never an idealist but to actually work for one of them?”

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