Drama in Singapore!
Yesterday I was riding an MRT train during the lunch hour, and I scored a seat. The one to my left held a sleeping woman; the one to my right a tall Indian guy, about 38 years old, in a sporty t-shirt. He promptly called someone on his cellphone, and the conversation on his end went like this:
How are you? OK. I’m a little depressed.
No, I’m just a little sad. No reason. I just woke up that way.
Yes, I’ll call you.
In about two and a half hours, I’ll call you.
I’ll call you in two and a half hours.
No, don’t wait; I said I’ll call you, so I’ll call you.
OK, maybe, but that was before.
I said I’ll call you and I’ll call you. Trust me.
That was then; I’m a changed person now.
I’ll call you.
No, there’s no girl.
What the hell do you know about it? I said there’s no girl.
I’ll be back in an hour.
Because I have to give him the key; then I’ll come back and open it.
He needs the key so he can see if he wants to do something there. It’s not a big deal.
I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t worry about it.
Etc.
This went on for a while longer, with many repetitions, at full volume, although I’m not sure everyone on the train car could hear it as well as I could – the man was practically speaking into my ear, after all. Once he hung up he turned to his (male) friend on the other side and had another conversation. My ears were flapping by now, as I wanted to know who it was he had been trying so very hard to reassure: a wife? parent? boss? But the conversation was in Tamil or Hindi, so I am not destined to know.
But of course, I have filled in the blanks on my own. So what do you think he was up to?