Maharaj-ji was Gautama’s personal moron, or a shared man-servant, when he chose to think otherwise. It was a regular job, nine to five, perks and bonus. But there were times when he tired of it. On such days he turned to Ero Nus, Gautama’s flat mate, for solace and random wisdom.
‘Maharaj-ji,’ Ero Nus obliged from his desk, ‘times have changed. Life is changing faster than salt peanuts. Tell your erstwhile master that.’
‘What’s so erst about Gautama? Maharaj-ji grumbled. ‘I thought he was just for a while anyway, like the job you once got.’
Ero Nus waved him away, got up from his desk and shuffled up to the window to watch the city below. Ero Nus worked from home now, correcting annual reports of small businesses that bored him to blankness. Gautama taught at the local college. Surely that was more exciting, Ero Nus pondered. Thus, another day came to a pass. It passed in between the rough minutes, the silk seconds and was gone. Gautama returned home in the evening with a fine, long-eared rabbit.
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