The Sentimental Idiot !

I tap my feet when I’m nervous. Just because I try and give it a rhythm, doesn’t mean that those around me like it, most of the time, they dont. On those occasions where I can’t make noise, I tend to move my fingers as though I were masterfully playing a piano while I watch the tendons across my wrists move in tandem. But on some days, no matter how hard I try to distract myself, nothing seems to work. That was exactly how I felt at my first job interview waiting all by myself inside a board room. The carpet on the floor muffled the sound my feet were making as tried in vain to find a position that was comfortable in my chair. Almost immediately after I settled in, the door opened. Dr. Singh didn’t seem very impressed as I stood up to shake his hand, nonetheless, I didn’t let that assumption cloud my excitement. He didn’t say anything as h e glanced through my CV.  It was just one page, remember, this was the first time I had ever applied for a job in

“Do you think Neppo is dreaming?” My brother asked me. Sanjeev George has never been interested in sports, but what am I complaining about? At that time, even I wasn’t into soccer. Every now and then though, some things happen that make the whole world pause and take notice. South Korea’s dream run at the FIFA world cup of 2002 was one such event, and we were glued to our television screen with millions of other people when they took on Spain in the quarter finals that year. The game went down to the wire, ending with a controversial 5-3 win in penalties for the hosts. But here, my brother was busy carefully observing our pet dachshund's unusual body movements. “Are you listening man”? He asked me, visibly annoyed by my apathetic response to his canine sleep analysis. I turned my gaze for a second from the television to look at the 8 th wonder of the world Napoleon 'Born-Apart' Senior lying on the verandah of our home in Kerala. His eyes were cl