“Ye Nastika, I have an offer for you”, Seemanna called
out.
Seemanna’s offers usually spelled trouble.
As I saw him approach, I remembered our conversation from a week ago: he was falling short of vanaras for his performance at the jatre and was on a mission to recruit volunteers.
“Seemanna”, I said pre-empting his offer, “Don’t bother trying – I am not acting in that godforsaken dance-drama of yours.”
“Godforsaken dance-drama? Aiyo Nastika, how can you say such things? If there is no God, how can he forsake things?”
