It's all about the money
It's all about the money
Rich
rɪtʃ/
adjective
Something you can never become. -Google
(No wonder I take the Google dictionary seriously)
Setting: Some cool place, round-table, circular permutations I'm sitting somewhere in that (n-1)! combinations among (n-1) rich kids, rest you take that Cengage-Algebra book from the library and do the math.
(Cool story in past tense, please don't leave the blog midway and ask me in person to finish it)
I was sitting in the middle of a few million-dollar-babies. The words they uttered were so mesmerizing. I was staring at those glossy lips as they uttered the language. They spoke about money, money, and one more thing...ahh money. I was the only middle-class kid in the group. Others were obviously stinking rich. They stunk harder than Bellandur lake.
As I said, they spoke. Spoke about things which were in some way related to exposing their attribute of being rich. This time, they were talking about the best juice thing to drink when you chilling in Hawaii, they debated between some funnily named mock-tails. I was feeling left over but I couldn't help. Leave Hawaii, I feel scared to plan to go on Hebbal flyover. Coming to 'juice', the last cool thing I remembered drinking was Moosambi Juice. Moosambi is very cool, it gives you amazing refreshed energy. Just close your eyes and think about drinking Moosambi juice and tell me if you did not experience that amazing feeling. Within this time I prepared for my entry in the conversation, but dammit they changed the topic.
Now some guy was wearing a fancy T-Shirt. He did not speak. He was clearly waiting for someone to ask him about what he was wearing, and so did that happen. He told the shirt was a Balenciaga. It sounded like some word which is asked in the finals of a spell-bee competition. I started mentally spelling it and wondered if I could ever win spell-bee. The other kids were like, "Oh, I used to buy clothes from there, so cheap they are right." So I asked him about the price. He replied in Euros. I didn't reply. The other kids, later on, started discussing some Gucci, Armani etc.
They were now discussing - free Pringles on Emirates business class cabins. 1)Pringles. 2)Emirates, that too business class. I openly declared to myself that I have no opinion on this, so the plan was to just spectate. The last time I remembered sitting on an airplane is when I went to Shirdi, 4 hour journey tho, short and sweet. And the last time I went out of India was when I stepped into the Bay of Bengal via Marina Beach. How could Marina beach fit anywhere among Manchester, Hungary, and New York? So I waited silently and innocently for some topic to appear where I could boast.
One guy looked like he had a wrist injury, so his friend asked him about it. He replied in a very sad tone and I quote what he said, "I injured my wrist bro, I shouldn't have bought that cheap, low quality golf stick." Others looked at him sympathetically and prayed that he recovers soon. I didn't pray. How could someone call a golf stick cheap? I played cricket for 5 years in the free bat I had got for buying two packs of Boost and this son of a rich calls a golf stick cheap! and wait what!? Did he just say that he injured his wrist while playing golf? Is that even a thing. People almost die playing Jallikattu!
Finally, they came back to India and started discussing restaurants. They went on from Taco Bell, Onesta, to Smallys, Shaggys etc. I don't know what possessed me back then, I asked them, "You boys have tried the coffee at Shanti Sagar ah? Very nice it is. Cheap and best ra, try it sometime." They gave me a stare, a brief stare, like bruh what!? I understood that I had fucked up. I ran away from there and I never met those guys again in my life. Neither did I ever drink coffee at Shanti Sagar.
-Govardhan
