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“Sorry …”
“Ever since the lockdown began, you’ve not been sleeping well. And neither are you letting me.”
Rants and raves, reflection and reverie, responses and regurgitation, recollections and revelations: rightful restitution by a reprehensible rascal. A blog about me and every other runt that slaps my back while passing by.
Showing posts with label Short Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Short Story. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 22, 2020
The Social Distance
“Sorry …”
“Ever since the lockdown began, you’ve not been sleeping well. And neither are you letting me.”
Sunday, April 28, 2019
2019: A Face Odyssey
The Demagogue-class Castecaster crash-landed on a strange planet in the Tch O-kid ‘ar cluster of stars. I had lost my bearings and the crash had left me badly disoriented. I precariously stumbled out of the craft onto the alien terra firma.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
A Real Conversation
"Switty switty switty tera pyaar chahida...," rang out Stefan's cell phone.
He cuts the call.
Guru: "Who was it?"
Stefan: "My vice-captain."
"Why didn't you take the call?"
"Coz he's a smart-ass..!"
"Stefan, you're the first person in 7 years years, 11 months, 3-and-a-half days to visit me. And you seem like an intelligent fellow. While you're here anyway, why don't we talk for a while? God knows that I'm dying for a real conversation! I'm tired of speaking to people only through Facebook!"
"Ummmm...well...OK...what's the harm? I anyway need a breather before I start back."
"Awesome! BTW, don't you think it's time you updated your ringtone? Heard of 'Wanna be my chhammak chhallo' yet?"
He cuts the call.
Guru: "Who was it?"
Stefan: "My vice-captain."
"Why didn't you take the call?"
"Coz he's a smart-ass..!"
"Stefan, you're the first person in 7 years years, 11 months, 3-and-a-half days to visit me. And you seem like an intelligent fellow. While you're here anyway, why don't we talk for a while? God knows that I'm dying for a real conversation! I'm tired of speaking to people only through Facebook!"
"Ummmm...well...OK...what's the harm? I anyway need a breather before I start back."
"Awesome! BTW, don't you think it's time you updated your ringtone? Heard of 'Wanna be my chhammak chhallo' yet?"
Friday, March 25, 2011
The Moment the World Froze
Somehow, by prior arrangement or divine intervention, the bat connected the ball and the ball repelled. Sahil Joglekar's heart stopped. For reasons beyond his control, his eyes were tightly shut.
In the subsequent days, and even years, people would ask him whether it was fear or desperation or both that made him shut his eyes in that defining moment. He never had a clear answer. Perhaps he didn’t want to ask himself. Perhaps there was no need to ask that question.
***
World over, Sahil was toasted as the best batsman ever. His records were astounding, better than any other cricketer in the history of the game. His averages made statisticians dizzy and fans drool. His stroke play was said to be stuff that made pundits revise their textbooks.
His scoring consistency was like the beating of a healthy heart. He has had his highs and lows, but he was the best, the crowning glory of the Indian team. He had raised the game to the level of an art form, his rivals applauded him and felt no envy.
But Sahil never felt complete. He had done it all but one.
He had entered international cricket at a very young age. He broke record after record and matured in the game at jet speed. But one achievement kept eluding him—The Cricket World Cup.
In his fifteen years of international cricket, he had played in three world cups. He was a newcomer, and then he was a senior, but he was always the promised one. The vagaries of a team sport ensured that his reputation and stroke play couldn’t see the Indian team through.
But Sahil knew that everyone had tried his best. His reasoning was different for the world cup continuing to elude him. He wasn’t superstitious, but he sure was god-fearing. And he was certain that god had kept the world cup away from him because he didn’t want him to have too much success too soon: What would be left to strive for? He was a hard-working, practical chap. He believed that success needs maturity to carry it; otherwise you stumble and fall.
It had been too long…and this was the moment.
***
The ‘tock’ of the leather on the willow sent massive shock waves through Sahil’s body … and through the opposition … the stadium audience … and all the TV viewers and radio listeners all over the world who were watching and listening to that last ball of the last over with bated breaths.
Three runs to win—last ball of the 50th over. At that exact moment, Sahil left his body.
***
Floating above the pitch, he could see himself—frozen—with eyes shut, the ball in mid-air, not yet across the pitch, bat swung back. He thought he looked silly with his eyes shut: “Why am I doing that?” As he rose further above, he could see the bowler frozen in the follow through, with a devilish grimace on his face. Fielders—some gasping with open mouths, some staring hard at the ball, as if their looks could halt its advance.
Sahil could see his teammates in the pavilion. Skipper had an expression that was somewhere between ecstasy and shock. Some junior team members had covered their eyes, but he could see that they were peeking through the gaps between their fingers. The coach was calm, as usual, but with a grim look on his face. The entire stadium, Indians as well as others, were either jumping or beginning to. And, like the fateful ball, they were suspended in mid-air.
Strangely, in the horizon, he could see his wife, kids, mother and other kins watching him on TV. His wife had turned her face away, his mother was praying with folded palms, his brother was a replica of the stadium crowd.
He rose further…
He could see hundreds and thousands of Indians all over the world frozen, motionless, their eyes on that ball. Had they forgotten their beloved Sahil Joglekar? No, but it was their defining moment too! A moment they could brag, or alternatively, despair about, for the rest of their lives. A moment that an entire generation would identify itself with. A moment thousands will take inspiration from. A moment forever frozen in time like a glass palace in the middle of a windless desert.
A moment when Sahil Joglekar had to shut his eyes tight to not let the cacophonic light of the expectations of millions blind him.
***
[Unfreeze]
He knew now why. And he swung.
He knew he had connected well. It was as if it took him ages before he could gather enough courage to open his eyes. He just saw the ball distancing itself from him in the direction of mid-off. At that stage, no one could gauge where it would land. He neither had the time nor the patience to do that.
India needed three runs—just three runs. And Sahil ran like a maniac!
He didn’t care anymore—he just had to do this—everything else could wait. Did he get caught, hit a six, a four?—no thought crossed his mind. All he could do with his breath right now was this—run like the wind!
Some Indians may not be good at driving, but almost all of them are very good at judging the trajectory of a flying cricket ball. Even before the ball crossed the boundary, [unfreeze crowd] the polarization was complete, clear and overwhelming. Even before the ball hit the stands, the Indians were shouting with joy and hugging each other. On the other side, the rivals were frozen, again, with shock and despair on their faces—“IMPOSSIBLE!”
Sahil kept running; so did his mate on the other side.
It was close to two runs when they noticed the changed patterns of the crowd. Sahil didn’t trust his senses and kept running, but his mate stopped and looked at the umpire.
It was a SIX!
He jumped with joy and ran towards Sahil, hugging and lifting him up. Sahil was furious: “What the hell are you doing! Why are you not completing the run?” It was then that he let the scene seep into his senses, and it dawned upon him.
India had won the World Cup!
Providence had taken a long time, but Sahil knew that now, after years of slogging, literally as well as figuratively, he deserved it and could carry it on his broad shoulders. He stood in the middle of the ground with his bat and helmet raised. Another frozen moment—he absorbed it all—the cheers and the tears, the silent thunder of the applause. He became, for that moment, one with them. That was his reward, the uplift, the spiritual, ‘in the zone’ feel—he absorbed it all.
The moment had made its definition and he felt complete.
***
It is said that destiny is a lady who favors the brave and the impulsive. That moment, as he swung hard with all his might, Sahil won over lady luck. He now knew why he had shut his eyes. But there was no need to ask that question anymore because they had won.
But if you ask him in private, his answer would be simple—blind faith.
In the subsequent days, and even years, people would ask him whether it was fear or desperation or both that made him shut his eyes in that defining moment. He never had a clear answer. Perhaps he didn’t want to ask himself. Perhaps there was no need to ask that question.
***
World over, Sahil was toasted as the best batsman ever. His records were astounding, better than any other cricketer in the history of the game. His averages made statisticians dizzy and fans drool. His stroke play was said to be stuff that made pundits revise their textbooks.
His scoring consistency was like the beating of a healthy heart. He has had his highs and lows, but he was the best, the crowning glory of the Indian team. He had raised the game to the level of an art form, his rivals applauded him and felt no envy.
But Sahil never felt complete. He had done it all but one.
He had entered international cricket at a very young age. He broke record after record and matured in the game at jet speed. But one achievement kept eluding him—The Cricket World Cup.
In his fifteen years of international cricket, he had played in three world cups. He was a newcomer, and then he was a senior, but he was always the promised one. The vagaries of a team sport ensured that his reputation and stroke play couldn’t see the Indian team through.
But Sahil knew that everyone had tried his best. His reasoning was different for the world cup continuing to elude him. He wasn’t superstitious, but he sure was god-fearing. And he was certain that god had kept the world cup away from him because he didn’t want him to have too much success too soon: What would be left to strive for? He was a hard-working, practical chap. He believed that success needs maturity to carry it; otherwise you stumble and fall.
It had been too long…and this was the moment.
***
The ‘tock’ of the leather on the willow sent massive shock waves through Sahil’s body … and through the opposition … the stadium audience … and all the TV viewers and radio listeners all over the world who were watching and listening to that last ball of the last over with bated breaths.
Three runs to win—last ball of the 50th over. At that exact moment, Sahil left his body.
***
Floating above the pitch, he could see himself—frozen—with eyes shut, the ball in mid-air, not yet across the pitch, bat swung back. He thought he looked silly with his eyes shut: “Why am I doing that?” As he rose further above, he could see the bowler frozen in the follow through, with a devilish grimace on his face. Fielders—some gasping with open mouths, some staring hard at the ball, as if their looks could halt its advance.
Sahil could see his teammates in the pavilion. Skipper had an expression that was somewhere between ecstasy and shock. Some junior team members had covered their eyes, but he could see that they were peeking through the gaps between their fingers. The coach was calm, as usual, but with a grim look on his face. The entire stadium, Indians as well as others, were either jumping or beginning to. And, like the fateful ball, they were suspended in mid-air.
Strangely, in the horizon, he could see his wife, kids, mother and other kins watching him on TV. His wife had turned her face away, his mother was praying with folded palms, his brother was a replica of the stadium crowd.
He rose further…
He could see hundreds and thousands of Indians all over the world frozen, motionless, their eyes on that ball. Had they forgotten their beloved Sahil Joglekar? No, but it was their defining moment too! A moment they could brag, or alternatively, despair about, for the rest of their lives. A moment that an entire generation would identify itself with. A moment thousands will take inspiration from. A moment forever frozen in time like a glass palace in the middle of a windless desert.
A moment when Sahil Joglekar had to shut his eyes tight to not let the cacophonic light of the expectations of millions blind him.
***
[Unfreeze]
He knew now why. And he swung.
He knew he had connected well. It was as if it took him ages before he could gather enough courage to open his eyes. He just saw the ball distancing itself from him in the direction of mid-off. At that stage, no one could gauge where it would land. He neither had the time nor the patience to do that.
India needed three runs—just three runs. And Sahil ran like a maniac!
He didn’t care anymore—he just had to do this—everything else could wait. Did he get caught, hit a six, a four?—no thought crossed his mind. All he could do with his breath right now was this—run like the wind!
Some Indians may not be good at driving, but almost all of them are very good at judging the trajectory of a flying cricket ball. Even before the ball crossed the boundary, [unfreeze crowd] the polarization was complete, clear and overwhelming. Even before the ball hit the stands, the Indians were shouting with joy and hugging each other. On the other side, the rivals were frozen, again, with shock and despair on their faces—“IMPOSSIBLE!”
Sahil kept running; so did his mate on the other side.
It was close to two runs when they noticed the changed patterns of the crowd. Sahil didn’t trust his senses and kept running, but his mate stopped and looked at the umpire.
It was a SIX!
He jumped with joy and ran towards Sahil, hugging and lifting him up. Sahil was furious: “What the hell are you doing! Why are you not completing the run?” It was then that he let the scene seep into his senses, and it dawned upon him.
India had won the World Cup!
Providence had taken a long time, but Sahil knew that now, after years of slogging, literally as well as figuratively, he deserved it and could carry it on his broad shoulders. He stood in the middle of the ground with his bat and helmet raised. Another frozen moment—he absorbed it all—the cheers and the tears, the silent thunder of the applause. He became, for that moment, one with them. That was his reward, the uplift, the spiritual, ‘in the zone’ feel—he absorbed it all.
The moment had made its definition and he felt complete.
***
It is said that destiny is a lady who favors the brave and the impulsive. That moment, as he swung hard with all his might, Sahil won over lady luck. He now knew why he had shut his eyes. But there was no need to ask that question anymore because they had won.
But if you ask him in private, his answer would be simple—blind faith.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
The Royal Palace
Once upon a time, there was a great king. He was very powerful and prosperous. So he built a huge palace for himself and his 76 queens. It was a magnificent palace of gold, silver, and precious stones. It was the most beautiful building in the whole of the world. Other kings were jealous of this king's palace and were in awe of its beauty. People used to travel hundreds of miles to come and have a glimpse of this palace. But then, one day, the king became ill. He became weak and could no longer rule. The princes killed the king and fought among themselves. One of them emerged the most powerful after killing all his siblings and crowned himself the king.
The next day he called the royal architect and told him, "You're an incompetent fool, a nincompoop! You don't know design from horse dung! You don't know how to design buildings or palaces! This palace has been made unprofessionally. I want a rework. No, I want to break this palace down and build a new one! Bring me new designs, show me new schedules, give me fresh budgets! But this aberration must go!"
The royal architect was shocked and disheartened. He said,"But sire, it took 21 years to build this palace, it is the most beautiful palace in the world! People from far and wide come to see this magnificent structure. They sing praise of our kingdom and its king. How can you call this heavenly palace ugly?"
The king replied,"Because now I am the King, and what I say is the truth. Do as I say and you'll be richer than you can ever imagine. If you refuse, I'll decimate your entire clan."
The royal architect learned his lesson and decided to rebuild. At least he retained his head and his job.
The next day he called the royal architect and told him, "You're an incompetent fool, a nincompoop! You don't know design from horse dung! You don't know how to design buildings or palaces! This palace has been made unprofessionally. I want a rework. No, I want to break this palace down and build a new one! Bring me new designs, show me new schedules, give me fresh budgets! But this aberration must go!"
The royal architect was shocked and disheartened. He said,"But sire, it took 21 years to build this palace, it is the most beautiful palace in the world! People from far and wide come to see this magnificent structure. They sing praise of our kingdom and its king. How can you call this heavenly palace ugly?"
The king replied,"Because now I am the King, and what I say is the truth. Do as I say and you'll be richer than you can ever imagine. If you refuse, I'll decimate your entire clan."
The royal architect learned his lesson and decided to rebuild. At least he retained his head and his job.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Dudette Discovers Garlic!
FADE IN.
GREATER KAILASH, SOUTH DELHI BUNGALOW. A POSH HOUSE TASTEFULLY FURNISHED.
The camera pans the drawing room and moves toward the kitchen as Dudette passes in front of the camera straying into the kitchen by mistake.
INT. KITCHEN. DAY.
Mom has a white thing in her right hand, trying to crush it on the kitchen granite slab.
GREATER KAILASH, SOUTH DELHI BUNGALOW. A POSH HOUSE TASTEFULLY FURNISHED.
The camera pans the drawing room and moves toward the kitchen as Dudette passes in front of the camera straying into the kitchen by mistake.
INT. KITCHEN. DAY.
Mom has a white thing in her right hand, trying to crush it on the kitchen granite slab.
DUDETTE
Mom what is that?
Mom what is that?
MOM
It's a pod of garlic beta.
It's a pod of garlic beta.
DUDETTE
Garlic as in garlic bread and vampires?
Garlic as in garlic bread and vampires?
MOM
Ummmm...yes.
Ummmm...yes.
DUDETTE
Pod as in IPod?
Pod as in IPod?
MOM
Ummmmm...distantly related.
Ummmmm...distantly related.
DUDETTE
Wow! Cool! Wait till I tell my friends
that garlic came from IPods!
Wow! Cool! Wait till I tell my friends
that garlic came from IPods!
MOM
No no it's just the word! Actually
garlic came first. Try to...
No no it's just the word! Actually
garlic came first. Try to...
DUDETTE
Yeah whatever mom. What are you doing
with it?
Yeah whatever mom. What are you doing
with it?
MOM
I'm removing its skin.
I'm removing its skin.
DUDETTE
Oh okay. But why are you killing it?
Oh okay. But why are you killing it?
MOM
Oh, I'm just crushing its knotty head
so that its easier to peel its skin!
Oh, I'm just crushing its knotty head
so that its easier to peel its skin!
DUDETTE
Awesome mom! Can you imagine the world's
reaction when it knows how easy it is to
skin a garlic pod? Wait, let me record
this on my cell. It will get millions of
hits on YouTube! I'll be famous! I'll be
rich!
Mom slaps her forehead with her left palm and shakes her head left to right looking down at the garlic pod.Awesome mom! Can you imagine the world's
reaction when it knows how easy it is to
skin a garlic pod? Wait, let me record
this on my cell. It will get millions of
hits on YouTube! I'll be famous! I'll be
rich!
DUDETTE
Hahahahaha! That was so funny! Wait wait,
do that again, do that again!
Hahahahaha! That was so funny! Wait wait,
do that again, do that again!
FADE INTO BLACK.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
hw dz it mattr nywayz?
Middle-aged, potbellied and hairy Rajiv Ji enters the cyber cafe with his lanky teenage son Ishaan in tow. Rajiv ji is wearing an oversized t-shirt over longish ‘shorts’ and pair of worn hawai chappals. Ishaan is wearing a black tee, blue jeans, black sandals and a sombre look.
Rajiv ji to cyber café guy: “We want to check IIT-JEE results. My son heard that they’re releasing it online today.”
“Do you have an account Sir?”
“No.”
“Ok, you could browse for an hour for 20 Rupees or you could take a membership and one month validity coupon for 50 Rupees.”
“I don’t have much work, so I think first option is ok.”
“Take the coupon. You can use it again if you don’t finish it today. Its valid for a month.”
Rajiv ji looks at Ishaan and asks, “What do you say? Will you use it?” Pause. Ishaan is staring at the floor. “Bolo! If you will use it then I’ll take it. Its valid for a month.” Ishaan slowly nods his bowed head from left to right, indicating ‘OK’.
Slowly, Ishaan sits on a comp. His dad sits next to him. Ishaan opens a notebook. Reads something from it. Carefully types on the keyboard and a page starts downloading. Rajiv ji peers into the screen trying to decipher the digital mumbo-jumbo. Ishaan is reading the text without speaking and is clicking from time to time. Rajiv ji can read it too, but after a while he asks Ishaan.
“So? What does it say? Are the results out or not?”
“No Papa.”
“Then when is it going to come out?”
“I’m checking papa.”
After 5 minutes more of checking, Rajiv ji is impatient.
“What is it?”
“Doesn’t say anything Papa.”
“Then how will you know? Ask your friend Vidur.”
“I asked Papa. I will email them Papa.”
“Ok you do that. I’m going home now. Come back soon.”
“Ok Papa.”
Rajiv ji’s second foot was not out of the café before Ishaan’s fingers started flying across the keyboard.
“dublyoodublyoodublyoodotorkutdotcomenter.”
Ishaan’s profile photo has him in low waist anti-fits and spikey-gelled hair and his best mate Janice by his side.
23 new scraps.
Scrap from @$$k!kr: “hey hus da chix in da pix?”
Reply to @$$k!kr: “ma buddy kul 4m skul. nw fukoff k?”
Scrap from ne~^~ha: “hey hansm watz ur futr plans?”
Reply to ne~^~ha: “no idea dn care nywayz. Dads goin bzerk!”
Scrap from \/iduR: “hey bro sup? reslt ka kya hua? tensd!”
Reply to \/iduR: “No nus yt. gand fati padi hai! u cumn 2 chil @ priya evng?”
Scrap from $/\m|r: “dude u online?”
Reply to $/\m|r: “q? kya hai be? u alwyz on orkut! no odr wrk jakazz?”
Scrap from \m/ju$t|n\m/: “yo lissn lifs bitchn dun fink I’ll mak it.”
Reply to \m/ju$t|n\m/: “okzzz jus hang on. u hafta luk 4 smthn difrnt.”
Scrap to shirley: “hey babe meet me @ priya @ 7 k?”
Scrap to ananya: “hi sweets wana meet @ priya 2mrw 7?”
Ishaan hollers at the café guy, “Bhaiya! Why don’t you have limewire on this machine?”
Rajiv ji to cyber café guy: “We want to check IIT-JEE results. My son heard that they’re releasing it online today.”
“Do you have an account Sir?”
“No.”
“Ok, you could browse for an hour for 20 Rupees or you could take a membership and one month validity coupon for 50 Rupees.”
“I don’t have much work, so I think first option is ok.”
“Take the coupon. You can use it again if you don’t finish it today. Its valid for a month.”
Rajiv ji looks at Ishaan and asks, “What do you say? Will you use it?” Pause. Ishaan is staring at the floor. “Bolo! If you will use it then I’ll take it. Its valid for a month.” Ishaan slowly nods his bowed head from left to right, indicating ‘OK’.
Slowly, Ishaan sits on a comp. His dad sits next to him. Ishaan opens a notebook. Reads something from it. Carefully types on the keyboard and a page starts downloading. Rajiv ji peers into the screen trying to decipher the digital mumbo-jumbo. Ishaan is reading the text without speaking and is clicking from time to time. Rajiv ji can read it too, but after a while he asks Ishaan.
“So? What does it say? Are the results out or not?”
“No Papa.”
“Then when is it going to come out?”
“I’m checking papa.”
After 5 minutes more of checking, Rajiv ji is impatient.
“What is it?”
“Doesn’t say anything Papa.”
“Then how will you know? Ask your friend Vidur.”
“I asked Papa. I will email them Papa.”
“Ok you do that. I’m going home now. Come back soon.”
“Ok Papa.”
Rajiv ji’s second foot was not out of the café before Ishaan’s fingers started flying across the keyboard.
“dublyoodublyoodublyoodotorkutdotcomenter.”
Ishaan’s profile photo has him in low waist anti-fits and spikey-gelled hair and his best mate Janice by his side.
23 new scraps.
Scrap from @$$k!kr: “hey hus da chix in da pix?”
Reply to @$$k!kr: “ma buddy kul 4m skul. nw fukoff k?”
Scrap from ne~^~ha: “hey hansm watz ur futr plans?”
Reply to ne~^~ha: “no idea dn care nywayz. Dads goin bzerk!”
Scrap from \/iduR: “hey bro sup? reslt ka kya hua? tensd!”
Reply to \/iduR: “No nus yt. gand fati padi hai! u cumn 2 chil @ priya evng?”
Scrap from $/\m|r: “dude u online?”
Reply to $/\m|r: “q? kya hai be? u alwyz on orkut! no odr wrk jakazz?”
Scrap from \m/ju$t|n\m/: “yo lissn lifs bitchn dun fink I’ll mak it.”
Reply to \m/ju$t|n\m/: “okzzz jus hang on. u hafta luk 4 smthn difrnt.”
Scrap to shirley: “hey babe meet me @ priya @ 7 k?”
Scrap to ananya: “hi sweets wana meet @ priya 2mrw 7?”
Ishaan hollers at the café guy, “Bhaiya! Why don’t you have limewire on this machine?”
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Chronicles of Bunty: It Could Be You!
Bunty cut sharp left and screeched to a halt next to the footpath under a shady tree. He took out his Nokia N70 and called Pummy.
"Where are you?" he barked.
"Arre I'm just reaching na!" came the reply.
Bunty's face contorted. He made a quick calculation. 'Just reaching' would mean another 30 minutes. He replied 'ok' and disconnected. 30 minutes to kill! No point in getting bored inside the SUV even though it was slightly hot outside in the May morning.
Bunty got off his limited edition black Safari and adjusted his tight shirt's unbuttoned top button. He shook his hairy wrists and got his gold bracelets into position. He pulled up his Diesel jeans and knocked his pointy leather shoes on the tarmac. He looked left and right through his oversized shades and walked to the cold-water vendor on the footpath.
"How much for a glass?" he asked.
"Fifty paise, saab."
"Ok. And how much with Lime?"
"Two rupees."
There was a pause while Bunty inspected the cart leaking saline water from its bottom. Bored, he shifted his attention to Bidi-Cigarette vendor.
"Saab, should I give you a glass?" asked the water vendor.
Bunty turned sharply and said half laughing and half mocking, "Abe you have understood me a chutiya? I dont want to die by drinking your water!"
The water vendor was dejected. The Bidi vendor heard this and tried not to catch Bunty's gaze. Luckily, Delhi in May of 2007 wasn't as hot as most years. So you could stand outside in the mornings at least. Shades were especially cool. That, and his boredom, prompted Bunty to hum the latest Himesh Reshammiya number, a bit too loudly.
A traffic cop drove up and parked his yellow, aged and thumping bullet behind Bunty's Safari. He removed his helmet and took out what used to be a white handkerchief and wiped his face.
He looked at the SUV and then at Bunty and asked, "Is everything alright?"
Bunty stopped humming and straightened up and replied in a friendly manner, "Ya ya, just waiting for someone Sir."
The cop began watching the streaming traffic keenly. Within no time he took a step forward and extended his two and half feet hand and blocked the twenty feet road. A hapless scooterist was caught in the net. The pillion rider didn't have a helmet on.
"License and registration please" ordered the cop.
Bunty was watching this with much amusement. One thought crossed his mind. "Chutiye saale!" A grin plastered across his face. After some negotiations, the transaction was done and the scooter was allowed to proceed. Bunty stepped up to the cop to strike a conversation. He still had some time to kill. And no one like a cop for some masculine BC-MC chitchat. He might as well make up for the mush-talk time he's going to spend with his nagging girlfriend during the next two days in Kasauli.
"Haraamzaade, never seem to learn!" started Bunty, "And then they blame the traffic police of harassing them..."
The cop took the friendly cue, "Yeah! You tell me, what more can we do if these village idiots act like animals? How can we educate them? They don’t understand the laws or the traffic signs..."
Bunty asked with a crooked smile, "So how much did you fine them?"
"He he he...forty bucks" said the cop with a grin, "Poor buggers needed money for lunch. I'm a fair person you know..."
"How's the business doing these days?" Bunty dared further, knowing that Delhi cops are very friendly if you talk to them in a friendly and knowing manner.
"Things have actually improved after the orders of the High Court. People never learn you know. They still drive rashly, still don’t get pollution check done and still talk on phone while driving. With the higher fines, they're keener to deal with us than going to court. So yeah, things are looking up!" said the cop with a smile of contentment.
Suddenly the cop jumped and darted to the middle of the road and stopped a cargo company's Maruti Van. Traffic cops had 'Spider Sense' for violaters. The driver was taking instructions on his mobile.
"Licence and registration please." Another round of negotiations followed. Bunty was by the side of the cop this time but didn't open his mouth. Transaction closed at Rs. 100 and both of them retreated to the shade.
"Today is the first birthday of the Sub Inspector's son. We're all contributing. I have to finish this before midday. No point standing here in the heat." the cop said.
"Oh ok. I too want to move before it gets too hot. Driving to the hills for the weekend. With my girlfriend." Bunty said with a wink.
Bunty got a call from a business associate of his father's and assured the 'uncle' that he will definitely visit the vendor 'tomorrow' and get the work done. The traffic flow had reduced to a trickle. The cop was getting impatient.
"How fast does that go?" he asked looking at Bunty's Safari.
"Fast enough to tear apart other car's asses!" guffawed Bunty.
The Cop went up to the Safari and walked around it appreciating. It was one mammoth machine with huge Hankook tyres, beautiful golden trim, VIP dark film and sexy fancy number plates. Bunty walked along with him gloating over his possession. When they got back to the rear, he asked, "How did you like her?"
The cop looked disinterestedly at his wrist watch and then at the sun's angle, and said,
"License and registration please."
"Where are you?" he barked.
"Arre I'm just reaching na!" came the reply.
Bunty's face contorted. He made a quick calculation. 'Just reaching' would mean another 30 minutes. He replied 'ok' and disconnected. 30 minutes to kill! No point in getting bored inside the SUV even though it was slightly hot outside in the May morning.
Bunty got off his limited edition black Safari and adjusted his tight shirt's unbuttoned top button. He shook his hairy wrists and got his gold bracelets into position. He pulled up his Diesel jeans and knocked his pointy leather shoes on the tarmac. He looked left and right through his oversized shades and walked to the cold-water vendor on the footpath.
"How much for a glass?" he asked.
"Fifty paise, saab."
"Ok. And how much with Lime?"
"Two rupees."
There was a pause while Bunty inspected the cart leaking saline water from its bottom. Bored, he shifted his attention to Bidi-Cigarette vendor.
"Saab, should I give you a glass?" asked the water vendor.
Bunty turned sharply and said half laughing and half mocking, "Abe you have understood me a chutiya? I dont want to die by drinking your water!"
The water vendor was dejected. The Bidi vendor heard this and tried not to catch Bunty's gaze. Luckily, Delhi in May of 2007 wasn't as hot as most years. So you could stand outside in the mornings at least. Shades were especially cool. That, and his boredom, prompted Bunty to hum the latest Himesh Reshammiya number, a bit too loudly.
A traffic cop drove up and parked his yellow, aged and thumping bullet behind Bunty's Safari. He removed his helmet and took out what used to be a white handkerchief and wiped his face.
He looked at the SUV and then at Bunty and asked, "Is everything alright?"
Bunty stopped humming and straightened up and replied in a friendly manner, "Ya ya, just waiting for someone Sir."
The cop began watching the streaming traffic keenly. Within no time he took a step forward and extended his two and half feet hand and blocked the twenty feet road. A hapless scooterist was caught in the net. The pillion rider didn't have a helmet on.
"License and registration please" ordered the cop.
Bunty was watching this with much amusement. One thought crossed his mind. "Chutiye saale!" A grin plastered across his face. After some negotiations, the transaction was done and the scooter was allowed to proceed. Bunty stepped up to the cop to strike a conversation. He still had some time to kill. And no one like a cop for some masculine BC-MC chitchat. He might as well make up for the mush-talk time he's going to spend with his nagging girlfriend during the next two days in Kasauli.
"Haraamzaade, never seem to learn!" started Bunty, "And then they blame the traffic police of harassing them..."
The cop took the friendly cue, "Yeah! You tell me, what more can we do if these village idiots act like animals? How can we educate them? They don’t understand the laws or the traffic signs..."
Bunty asked with a crooked smile, "So how much did you fine them?"
"He he he...forty bucks" said the cop with a grin, "Poor buggers needed money for lunch. I'm a fair person you know..."
"How's the business doing these days?" Bunty dared further, knowing that Delhi cops are very friendly if you talk to them in a friendly and knowing manner.
"Things have actually improved after the orders of the High Court. People never learn you know. They still drive rashly, still don’t get pollution check done and still talk on phone while driving. With the higher fines, they're keener to deal with us than going to court. So yeah, things are looking up!" said the cop with a smile of contentment.
Suddenly the cop jumped and darted to the middle of the road and stopped a cargo company's Maruti Van. Traffic cops had 'Spider Sense' for violaters. The driver was taking instructions on his mobile.
"Licence and registration please." Another round of negotiations followed. Bunty was by the side of the cop this time but didn't open his mouth. Transaction closed at Rs. 100 and both of them retreated to the shade.
"Today is the first birthday of the Sub Inspector's son. We're all contributing. I have to finish this before midday. No point standing here in the heat." the cop said.
"Oh ok. I too want to move before it gets too hot. Driving to the hills for the weekend. With my girlfriend." Bunty said with a wink.
Bunty got a call from a business associate of his father's and assured the 'uncle' that he will definitely visit the vendor 'tomorrow' and get the work done. The traffic flow had reduced to a trickle. The cop was getting impatient.
"How fast does that go?" he asked looking at Bunty's Safari.
"Fast enough to tear apart other car's asses!" guffawed Bunty.
The Cop went up to the Safari and walked around it appreciating. It was one mammoth machine with huge Hankook tyres, beautiful golden trim, VIP dark film and sexy fancy number plates. Bunty walked along with him gloating over his possession. When they got back to the rear, he asked, "How did you like her?"
The cop looked disinterestedly at his wrist watch and then at the sun's angle, and said,
"License and registration please."
Monday, August 09, 2004
Generosity Impersonified
Another red light. I guess I must have been in a good mood, coz, I reached into my pocket, took out a coin and dropped it into the cupped palm of the beggar woman.
The baby on her hip was playing with a deflated balloon---pulling it and releasing it to whip in the air, or now, on my car. He had a toothless grin. Quite cute actually.
I guess my unbound generosity made him happy. With a chuckle, he released the stretched balloon. It struck me right on the nose! Ouch! Boy, did that hurt?! I laughed off my anger, even though my eyes welled up a bit. I was supposed to be all kind and nice and goody, remember? "Nice baby cute baby".
I took the opportunity to press the cheek of the baby with all the feelings of a Mahatma. The light turned green. I guess vengeance got better of me and the press turned into a pinch. The baby's face transformed from a grin to stark astonishment.
Before the baby could start bawling I vroomed off leaving the angry mama hurling abuses at me. He! He! He!
The baby on her hip was playing with a deflated balloon---pulling it and releasing it to whip in the air, or now, on my car. He had a toothless grin. Quite cute actually.
I guess my unbound generosity made him happy. With a chuckle, he released the stretched balloon. It struck me right on the nose! Ouch! Boy, did that hurt?! I laughed off my anger, even though my eyes welled up a bit. I was supposed to be all kind and nice and goody, remember? "Nice baby cute baby".
I took the opportunity to press the cheek of the baby with all the feelings of a Mahatma. The light turned green. I guess vengeance got better of me and the press turned into a pinch. The baby's face transformed from a grin to stark astonishment.
Before the baby could start bawling I vroomed off leaving the angry mama hurling abuses at me. He! He! He!
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