An entirely fictional daily drama

5:20 am. (Wide awake) Wonder why the alarm hasn’t gone off yet.

5:30 am. (Alarm rings) Hmm, so it’ll take a while for the water to heat up, maybe I should just close my eyes for a bit. It’s too cold out anyway. (Hits snooze button)

5:40 am. (Alarm rings again) (Now groggy) Maybe just another 10 minutes. Anyway, Naanna’ll make me breakfast. (Hits snooze button)

5:50 am. (Alarm rings again) So the azan’s just started. Maybe another 10 minutes. (Hits snooze button)

6:00 am. (Father enters with tea) Father: Are you going to wake up or not? DO you want to drive to work today AS WELL? It’s just such a waste of your money. Who do you think you are helping by taking the car everyday?
Lazy Ass: Yes, yes. Ok fine. I’m up. I’m up. (Door closes. Lazy Ass plops back in bed.)

6:00 am. (Alarm rings and is switched off reflexively)

6:05 am. I can wake up in five minutes. I’m not really sleeping.

6:30 am: Father (through closed door): WILL YOU WAKE UP??
Lazy Ass: (Looks at the clock and bolts out of bed in a panic) Yes, yes I’m up. I woke up a long time ago. I’m nearly done.

Much activity ensues. Sounds of water splashing. Lazy Ass hastily (to her anyway) completes her toilet. Wastes five minutes shrieking at a lizard that has taken up residence in a crevice between the bathroom door and the wall. The gecko flicks its tongue and pays no attention to her. Summoning up all her courage, Lazy Ass girds her loins and runs out, holding the towel over her head. She hurries out of her room and gulps down the freshly squeezed orange juice (yes, I know, she’s horribly spoilt) and runs out the door.The time is now 6:45 am.
Father: Have you taken your cell phone?

Lazy Ass has not, so she hurries back to her room. Can’t find the phone. Father muttering in the background: “Why can’t you just be more organized? Would it kill you to get everything ready the night before?” Lazy Ass is trying to figure out from which pile of clothes the phone’s ring is coming from and ignoring her father at the same time. She finally locates it in the clothes cupboard and leaves the house to her father’s gloomily muttered pronouncements: “You’ve missed the bus anyway. You may as well take the car.”

6:52 am. A hurried half jog and half walk to the bus stop down the lane, skirting past dogs sniffing, and then deciding not to eat, the remains of the previous night’s food that Silver Spoon throws out on to the street everyday. Crosses the street, avoiding the lecherous drivers who slow down to get a good look (Lazy Ass: No I won’t sleep with you just because you blew your horn, your worthless bastard.) and auto drivers who slow down and then look irritated when Lazy Ass says: Nahin, mujhe auto nahin chahiye. Where the fuck are you when I do need an auto?

6:55 am. (At the bus stop, out of breath and cursing the male populace in the world in general) Please, don’t let me miss the bus.

6:56 am. I wonder if the bus has been by yet. The Chirec buses have just gone by so any time now.

6:57 am. Maybe the bus came early today. Maybe I should call someone.
Strange old guy in dhoti and monkey cap passes by on his morning walk. Lazy Ass smiles at him but gets no response.

6:58 am: (Bus hurtles by, slows down and Lazy Ass jumps on.)
Lazy Ass: Good morning. Fellow passenger: You made it! How come you’ve been coming pretty regularly these days?
Lazy Ass (smiles benignly): Yes. The key I’ve discovered is to push the snooze button only four times rather than six.