It was interesting to note that his first story about a dog and a kid had strange similarities in plot to ‘White Fang’ a book he had read only days ago. So it is a pity that he only learned much later in life that he should have tried to be a Hollywood remake-screenplay-writer than aspire to be a starving literary genius; but at that time, the limits of his potential and the practicality of plagiarism were still lost to his naive mind.

Before long, George started showing real signs of literary genius, finishing second best in recitation competitions, faking illness to read adult fiction and developing an uncanny ineptitude in physical activities. But this did not stop him from breaking his hands a total of 6 times and even managed to pass two grades without writing a single paper due to his amazing ability to break his limbs as if on command. The greatest things George achieved in his childhood were the absorption of a lot of useless facts, ‘revolutionary’ ideas and a well-developed gift of Air Castle Building.

Some teacher once called him “Jack of All Trades” upon which he took the phrase as his motto achieving amazing milestones in the fields of tree climbing, fishing and repairing machines in perfect working condition. To this day he has not realized that the teacher finished the sentence with “Master of None”; the realization of which in retrospect, would have been a terrible waste considering the advancements he has contributed to the field of kite-flying.

Upon his mother realizing that he was not fit for the real world that was India, George was bundled off to Singapore to pursue a career in engineering upon an opportunity awarded by stupendous luck and multiple administrative errors combined.

Schooling in Singapore was a tremendous success with the school holding him back for an extra semester due to their disinterest in letting their star student leave the hallowed premises. He finally was sent off with thunderous applause and high hopes of being a top engineer, one that he fulfilled by becoming a bartender after a series of highly successful interviews for other positions.

Needless to say Bartending and George were a match made in heaven with their love for booze and the opposite gender while vehemently opposing the corrupting influences of sobriety and the same gender; the former of which being infinitely dangerous than the latter. Fast forward 2 years, George was mentioned in a shady Expat magazine as the man behind the best Martinis in Singapore upon which he decided to leave the game at the pinnacle of his career.

Jumping straight from the booze business, George started exploring the wild west of internet marketing filled with ‘bull-talkers’ and ‘fortune-prospectors’, an area he got interested in since managing the marketing side of his “Boardwalk Empire”. Upon realizing his absolute lack of talent in ‘Bull’ related marketing, he embarked on a journey to get some bread and butter by joining the legions of a multi-national hospitality company as a telemarketer.

After festering in the backwaters of telemarketing hell, he finally plucked up the courage and started up a pilot internet marketing program in the brick and mortar multi-national company where he worked. Unfortunately this became successful and it instantly transformed him from unused asset to a useless and dangerous asset much to the ire of his superiors who did not know how exactly to deal with channels that had positive ROI.

Thankfully during the festering season, George had blundered his way through the web-design minefield and had a half-decent client-base who had a very low opinion of his ability to drink while standing on his head. Along with web-design George also blundered through creating a record label which ultimately prospered after they kicked him out. This enabled George to undergo a simulated epiphany that convinced himself that entrepreneurship is the only way to live a lazy jolly good life.

So to everyone’s relief, George jumped overboard into the great unknown of entrepreneurship and has never been heard from since. He is said to haunt the corridors of Chaosactive Enterprises but there is no material proof to ascertain this insane lie. Many of those who followed his life are pretty damn sure that George was the one and only true re-incarnation of Chuck Norris, a fact vehemently contested by Elvis fans. For all we know the great humanoid literary prodigy named Abhishek Cherian George is lost to the seas of entrepreneurship forever.

But she did not sit on the other end as usual, instead she sat in the middle.

He knew that it was his chance. She wanted him to make the move. It was written in her eyes.

But her kept his arms on his lap. He turned and looked at her but knew he could not touch her. It would be inviting disaster into her world. She did not need that.

He smiled at her and she smiled back.

He felt her feel the rejection, he hurt for her.

She composed herself.

The ride was silent.

He swiped his card, $7 for a cup of hot beverage, but worth every sip of it. He folded the receipt into his pocket and stood in line to recieve his drink.

Riya behind the bar shouted “Green Tea Soy Latte Venti To Go”. Amir did not hear the Green Part as he was busy with some other drinks.

The lady in front of him in the queue had a large order. Amir asked if she needed a carrier but she replied that she will take two trays instead. The trays had americanos on one and a cappuccino and a mocha latte on the other. She piled a bunch of sugars and paraphernalia on it and waited for her friend who ordered a Tall White Skinny Latte. Switch the latte to a blonde and you get the perfect trophy lay.

He double checked with Amir that his beverage did not have foam on the top lest he burn his tongue again fooled by the temperature.

Amir, who had missed the green tea part the first time around caught it this time and proceeded to throw away the Soy Latte he was making to make a new one according to the exact specifications.

He picked up a copy of the International Herald Tribune and proceeded to scan the pages of the newspaper. Then he saw in bold right under the main article, his picture and a caption underneath that read ‘Execution Style Killing in Raffles City Starbucks’.

“Your Green Tea Soy Latte sir” Amir said as he held out the beverage. Too stunned to respond he lifted his eyes to Amir and then back to his picture on the newspaper. He then turned to look around, maybe so as to find his executioner.

He then felt the cold steel at the back of his head. Amir put down the beverage and squeezed the trigger.

Secluded from the sounds of the city by the glass windows yet included in its busy view, he thought of his lost passion. The un-stoppable rat-race has robbed him of his fire and passion. Credit cards, mortgages, champagne and whiskey have dulled his creative and common senses. He has succumbed to the Mass Rapid Transit.

He longed to leave it all and go away to some faraway place to feel the wind, water and earth; maybe that will make him complete. He had often thought that a woman would make him whole; but the fault of that senseless relic of logic was becoming increasingly apparent to him

Previous relationships; intimate, platonic or pseudo-platonic were all but a mess of wasted words and emotions. The realization that the will to change has to come from within him is becoming too hard to ignore.

But how can you leave this useless, meaningless time-consuming rat-race. After all you enter the race to win! What can you do but stick it out.

The curtain has fallen on the evening’s performance. The street lights light-up the roads. He takes one last look at the partial moon hidden behind the buildings. Then he switches on the fluorescent lights and the computer to prepare for the Mondays presentation.