The Sadhu was taken aback and wondered if he was hallucinating. Deciding that there wasn’t much he could do if he was, he stayed put and observed the chair.
It’d popped into the room just beyond the PC. It seemed like one of those art installations. It had snakes, conch shells and blazing rings of fire chiseled all over it. The cushion was shiny black and seemed to be made of snake skin. The Sadhu was disconcerted by the fact that it had popped into existence on its own. He distrusted anything that forced itself to his attention. He was about to start thinking if something, anything else, when a blue man popped into the chair.
The next few things happened really fast in the Sadhu’s head. He was caught off guard . For a second he thought it was some high tech hologram enabled publicity stunt for a fantasy film. Then he rejected that notion as far fetched. The blue man was wearing only a dhoti. The Sadhu suspected that this man was a Gandhian and thus no good could come from his appearance. His next impulse was to fight him, but the Sadhu was a weakling and the blue man had a body from a gay magazine cover page. The Sadhu gathered himself and asked the blue man what any of us would have asked.
“What’s with the body paint?”
The blue man laughed in a poor imitation of Rajnikanth, at which the Sadhu chuckled, because of which the blue man stopped laughing abruptly.
“It’s my natural skin tone, peacock blue. Like it?”
The Sadhu carefully lit a cigarette.
“It’s okay” he nodded.
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