I ran into Desaposhini Ramamritham the other day. Boy, she looked different.
"Hey, Desaposhini!" I said. "Long time, eh?"
"I'm sorry," she said, "Do I know you?"
"Sure," I said, laughing heartily. "We were in school together."
"I'm sorry," she said again. "I don't think..."
"But you've changed so much," I said. "What's up with that, Desaposhini?"
"Really," she said, "I think you've got the wrong person."
"No, no," I said, "You've certainly changed. You used to be tall, now you're short. You used to be skinny, and now you're not."
"Sir," she said, edging away. "We do not know each other."
"Sure we do," I insisted, increasingly strident. "But you used to be fair and now you're dark. And why the motorbike, Desaposhini? You used to ride a scooter."
"I am not Desaposhini!" she said.
"What!" I cried, aghast. "You've even changed your name!"
[With hat-tip to the original...]
2 comments:
i love the name desaposhini. i suggest you quickly make a girl baby and name her that.
good grief, SB. you can't be serious! (and, anyway, in view of what happens in this story, very likely baby desaposhini will show me the door as well.)
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