The job at hand

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His eyes shifted uneasily before answering. Apologetically, he said “Rahul Gandhi”. I flinched and he nodded, understandingly. An avalanche of emotions threatened to topple over and I held them on knitted eyebrows. Suddenly my own life looked way too easy. I wanted to tell him that it would be alright and that bad times will pass, but I knew that words would never suffice. “Such is life, you never know where fate drags you” he continued, defeatedly. I could see how troubled he was at his misfortunes and helplessly, I watched him sling the bag on his shoulder. “Do you think the situation will ever improve?” I asked him. “It can’t, because he won’t. Hell, I don’t think he’ll even do well as a TV repairman like me, so I can’t ask for a job switch and drag our names down even more!” he quipped. Empathy spilled over, dissolved in laughter and drowned in the repaired TV’s volume much like ‘Rahul Gandhi‘s fate.

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