There was a time when I waited for Sunday. After a week of work, and I worked hard, a day of rest was very welcome. I loved to sleep. I am not an atheist, and I go to church maybe once a year for midnight mass on Christmas eve. So I'm not a churchgoer basically. Therefore Sundays did not mean that I was seated in the pews in church listening to the pastor's sermon. The pastor, in fact, would not recognise me until my sister, who goes more often to church, introduced me as her brother after Christmas Eve mass. I also had a problem sleeping and would lie awake at nights trying desperately trying to fall asleep. I tried counting sheep and it never worked. I also tried those sleeping videos on YouTube. I listened \ and felt bored. They were not music I was familiar with and they kept my eyelids firmly apart. Even a safe tranquillizer that my doctor prescribed did not have any effect. The on...
I was waiting at the bus stop when I noticed the old gentleman. "Waiting for a bus?" I asked trying to be friendly. He shook his head and looked at me with mournful eyes. "No. I'm waiting for people," he said with a sad smile. "For people?" "Yes to pick their pockets," the man said sorrowfully. I was instantly alert. "Are you a pickpocket?" "A gentleman pickpocket," he sighed unhappily. "What's the difference between the two?" I asked surprised. "I always ask permission before I pick someone's pocket," the old man said with a nod. "Oh!" "They usually respond by giving me some money," the pickpocket said. "But that's no better than begging!" I exclaimed. "Certainly not. A gentleman pickpocket does not beg. He merely borrows and there is no tomorrow for repayment." "Is this a touch?" I asked...