Fiction “Which topi did you buy?” She asked while her fingers flew with supersonic speed on the virtual keypad of the smartphone commenting on the selfies posted by her countless friends on Facebook. “Your favourite brand,” he said indifferently. He was busy with the selfie videos posted by his other girlfriends on Whatsapp. He couldn’t remember which her favourite brand was. It doesn’t matter, he knew. She was not likely to notice it. What does the brand name of an artificial skin matter when the bliss experienced by real skins explodes like a neural bomb in the brain making it oblivious to everything else? He knew girls well enough to understand that their brand choices were only ways of inflating their already overblown egos. “Hey, look here,” she said. “Our PM has sent a selfie after casting his vote.” “He is our leader,” he said without looking at what she was playing with. He was busy with his own selfie messages on Whatsapp. But he added, “The leade
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