“Common I can get it for $65 in the shop right next to yours,” I said to this wholesale seller of Suits in New York City. I finally paid him $85 dollar for a suit and walked out of the store with the Nepali pride of being a professional haggler. Yes this skill had gotten me fame among the American circle long time ago in school because I would not just give up in price. I would stare at the seller’s nose and examine the twig of his eyebrow just to make sure he was not ripping away my hard earned Benjamin. I just loved giving shit to shopkeeper. Maybe your silk is bad! who sewed it? I have burned couple of same quality pants while ironing? My zillions of excuses would help me get some discount. I must have sound really cheap by now. But I am serious, even today as I walk into those fixed price super market, me desire to haggle does not go away? Being tired of this phenomenal characteristic I went to see a doctor. I was hoping this was a communicable disease, which I contacted from my mom. I was wrong! It is a cancer that grows..
I began to wonder if I was a guy with girl’s economic rational? (I wonder how many girls just screamed whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?) Obviously there was no doctor for that? I called my mom to further inquire on my economic behavior. She reassured I was inclined towards my dad. “You don’t bargain as much as I do!” You should come to the market with me for first class lesson. I thanked my mom for her generous offer without accepting it. I was constantly thinking.. I gotta be a dude! I need to stop caring about price all the time? I am becoming obsessed with it the way Kenyesian economist are… God please make me more of a man! God please! With this constant struggle of becoming a man I thought I would go to a new store in Wall Street and pay more higher price for a stolen wristwatch. I offer the guy $50 dollar when he actually wants $25. I held my head high when I walk out. Yes I did it! I finally got over my addiction of bargaining? O I must celebrate! I must pop up some bottle of champagne and share this story with my friends. I am the happiest soul in this earth? Mother love…. I detached my 24th xene named Nepali haggler from my body? I don’t have that chromosome anymore… I am back with 23 pair… I dance in front of Wall Street. Right around that time I see a guy walks out on his fancy Armani suit talking in his blueberry. He stutters, “That son of bitch is hardcore! He won’t pay $178 per share. His offer is 165….”
And I say that was just a rubbish fare! The conductor smirks and stares her buttocks with despair The old man sitting becomes anxious for a smoke The petals drip a hope of relief in myself
Her beautiful eyes whisper me “u must be that… With my nervous smile I give her my sincere stare†iPhone rings to crack that peace, his emotion fidget yes baby I would come but …. Truth never said
counting the steps in the trail, just mesmerized my paranoid ego … why not satisfied velocity increases as we reach the valley wonder why wheel do not just fly
another day in this train ride bypassing several pavilion and charm I look for the destiny that never comes Always complaining…that was just a rubbish fare
I have always wanted to write… that’s what I used to say to my friends before I even tried understanding why I really wanted to write even a sentence. I argued hour and hours hoping I would come up with something worth revealing about myself or this world where we can find stories as we just sigh our breath. Ok goddamn! I will do it! I said to myself as I began to boot my laptop. There was certain inertia of rest when I finished in three two four lines. Gee my lines suck! It even does not make a foolish sense when I am trying to write something say “smart.” I begin to indulge in the idea that this actually sucks and I should go back, switch on the TV or maybe read a book. Again I begin to flirt with my thoughts. I imagine someone will fall in love with my bullshit and subscribe my future to come magazine. Ha! My ego gets a certain push as I am thinking this. My hands began to move. I feel like words are coming faster than light. I can’t syntax it right. Ok slow down I say. Gee I am not having sex with my own thoughts. Slow down! Don panic. This thought should be right! I should be right! It should come right! yes indeed I can write! Wao… I am shouting inside my lungs. My house is empty. The echo reverberates inside my alveoli. I take a deep breath and say – did I even make any sense???
