He realized he was walking too fast when he finally looked up at the faces and saw a lot of people giving him weird looks, and some dirty looks. Feeling self-conscious now for literally storming through such a busy shopping area, he tried slowing down to a more "normal" walking speed. Looking at him, you'd know that something wasn't right - he wasn't there to shop. He had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders were hunched with tension and his head was down, barely noticing the endless lights and masses crowind the pavement shops.

He could feel himself relax, the walk had done him good. He felt anonymous, hemmed in the throngs of people that had come to shop. Nobody cared about him, nobody was going to give him more than a passing glance, if that. The bustle around him, the hawkers calling, the sounds of the traffic, all served to distract him, help him get over his anger.

The restaurant was a typical high-traffic, low-cost, no-frills affair. He seated himself at an empty table near the door and waited. "He didn't even hear me out before denying me even this," he was muttering to himself as he unconsciously toyed with the paper towel holder in front of him, "how am I supposed to be anything in life if I can't grab opportunities! Why should I even listen to him." The sound of the tumbler of water hitting the table startled him enough to break his chain of thoughts. The waiter was standing there, without saying anything. Dressed in a typical "uniform" of a once-clean, somewhat matching pant and shirt with a dirty hand towel thrown over his shoulder and a battered tray under his arm. "I wonder why these waiter uniforms always have epaulletes," he thought and then realized he was staring at the waiter. "Get me a coffee, strong," he said. The waiter just turned and walked away without so much as nodding.

"Will nothing that I do ever please him," he was almost grinding his teeth with frustration, "JUst because he is my father, do I have to do his bidding for as long as I live! I am not going to dance to his tune any more." The waiter was back with the coffee. "Anything else?" he asked curtly. "No." He cupped the tumbler in his hands as he let the strong coffee trickle down his throat. "I'll show him, I'm going to go ask Shankar if I can live with him until the director pays me. The movie is going to be a big hit for sure. I dont need any college, just because He paid money for me to get in, I shouldn't have to go! I am going to follow my dreams." Decision made, he took the hand-written chit to pay at the counter near the exit and walked out into the crowded market, lost in the anonymity, lost...

Challenge Update : 124 days, 148 to go. Need to pick up the pace..