Rohan is a 20 something, typical NRI frat-dude, who is back in his country because of the pandemic.
So when his group of friends decides to go clubbing on Wednesday, amidst the panic, he quite obviously agrees.
After all, he’s here for a good time, not a long one – as he likes to put it. They party. Have a ball, all is well for Rohan.
Come Sunday, when the entire nation is indoors for the curfew, a bell rings at Rohan’s place.
Perplexed, he wonders who it could be. He ignores it, but the bell rings again! He dismissively thinks, this darned Shantabai, I told her to take an off!
He opens the door and sees a hawker holding sanitizers and face masks.
“Do you want to buy, sir?” He asks.
Rohan sees the hawker’s dirty hands and nails and says “No!” in the rudest way possible.
‘I’ll have to have the security guard fired for letting this peasant into the premises.’ He notes to himself.
Just before he slams the door shut, the hawker asks for a glass of water.
Rohan scrunches his face but goes inside to fetch some water. As he comes out, he sees that the hawker has entered his home. Rohan loses his shit and starts yelling.
He quickly squirts sanitizer on Rohan’s face and as Rohan yells at the burning, the hawker chokes him with one of the masks until he stops breathing.
He sanitizes his hands as he stands over Rohan’s corpse. He thinks, ‘The selfish prick couldn’t help but party and spread the virus.’ He realizes, maybe the virus isn’t the real enemy, it’s the educated idiots.
Just as the clock strikes 5pm, he moves to the window and starts clapping. With Rohan’s mutiliated (and sanitized) hands.
After all, he is a model citizen.