I am pissed off! Don’t play with my emotions darling; I can be a dangerous man. I was amiable, meek and sometimes allowed you to bully and cajole me. But, you should always remember you did whatever I allowed you to do…for my own entertainment. As a matter of fact, you neither had the intelligence or the cunningness to cheat me. I could see through whatever you were up to. Even a baby can. You have a fish brain.
And also, I always forgave you because I was soft on you. I had a strange kind of pity towards you. Just as a father has towards his kids! I knew you were foolish. And I was trying to defend you from this harsh world. I knew you were vulnerable. But you were sure of yourself. I couldn’t afford to leave you. It was a responsibility. A thankless one.
But that’s it. With your fish brain, if you think you can fool and cheat repeatedly and bully me to do things that I DON’T like, or DON’T want to do…then you are grossly mistaken.
I have tolerated enough of your crazy ideas. Tried to adjust, tried to mould myself…to attune to your cheap gimmicks. But in the secret corner of my heart I always repented for what I did to others. Couldn’t stare directly to the people whom I mistreated. The nasty wounds still didn’t heal. It hurts badly when suddenly I remember how ungrateful I was to my well-wishers and how roughly I handled them. I am almost robbed of my sleep remembering those incidents. ONLY BECAUSE OF YOU. Only to save our painful relationship!
Always a free bird and morally clean, you forced me to trudge in dirt. Tried to show me the world with your dirty eyes. ENOUGH. Nothing will do to ingratiate you to me again. After all these years, I confess, I never loved you. But I feared a break. Now I am afraid of any relationship. I have started to see girls as the agents of hell. Thanks to you, against my wish, I have turned into a misogynist. I HATE GIRLS.
Please don’t call me again. Don’t shed those crocodile tears. I know where from it is coming. Our relationship has ended five years now. You lost your chance. Don’t ever…ever try to reach me. You got what you always wanted. Now you are repenting.
I got what I never wanted. And I am rejoicing.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
The making of a God
“Why should I pay you for something that is destined to happen, quipped Relia.
“What obvious…,” I was quite surprised by his narcissism. “I will write for you and won’t charge you? Joke or what?”
“Useless, one day you will wake up and realize whatever I had said. You will realize you had the good fortune of interacting with God Himself. I don’t need to pay you. You will wake up suddenly and start writing my message to the world.”
“That is highly unlikely in the coming ten years or more, given that I see no chance of any mental imbalance on my part. But you never know old age. Oldies are bloody freaks! Take the example of my father. What if I forget everything by then? Don’t forget to leave your number if we are not working in the same office by that time. I will call and ask you to repeat your sermons,” I said sipping the tea.
“No dear, I don’t need to remind you anything. You will remember everything at that point. It will flash at your mind…like a movie scene,” Relia… calmly, coolly and composedly puffed the cigarette that we were sharing.
“Great…that would help,” I was comforted by my God’s assurance. And we ended the discussion there.
Just before coming to the tea shop, he crashed fifty-five jet planes in a short time of fifty-four minutes. Unharmed and bored, playing the flight simulator, he was visibly stirred by watching ‘Hitler’, a documentary where you could see what that psycho had done to Jews.
My God spent no time to chose his own God, his Hero. He anointed Hitler an example to follow. He quickly came to the conclusion that he should rule the world one day. And just like Hitler did to Jews, he will wipe the entire race of Bengalis from the face of this earth.
But, of course, that’s not before this Bengali finishes writing His lessons to mankind. Hail the new God. Om Tat Sat.
“What obvious…,” I was quite surprised by his narcissism. “I will write for you and won’t charge you? Joke or what?”
“Useless, one day you will wake up and realize whatever I had said. You will realize you had the good fortune of interacting with God Himself. I don’t need to pay you. You will wake up suddenly and start writing my message to the world.”
“That is highly unlikely in the coming ten years or more, given that I see no chance of any mental imbalance on my part. But you never know old age. Oldies are bloody freaks! Take the example of my father. What if I forget everything by then? Don’t forget to leave your number if we are not working in the same office by that time. I will call and ask you to repeat your sermons,” I said sipping the tea.
“No dear, I don’t need to remind you anything. You will remember everything at that point. It will flash at your mind…like a movie scene,” Relia… calmly, coolly and composedly puffed the cigarette that we were sharing.
“Great…that would help,” I was comforted by my God’s assurance. And we ended the discussion there.
Just before coming to the tea shop, he crashed fifty-five jet planes in a short time of fifty-four minutes. Unharmed and bored, playing the flight simulator, he was visibly stirred by watching ‘Hitler’, a documentary where you could see what that psycho had done to Jews.
My God spent no time to chose his own God, his Hero. He anointed Hitler an example to follow. He quickly came to the conclusion that he should rule the world one day. And just like Hitler did to Jews, he will wipe the entire race of Bengalis from the face of this earth.
But, of course, that’s not before this Bengali finishes writing His lessons to mankind. Hail the new God. Om Tat Sat.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Follow-up on Valentine
After going through the millions of applications carefully, I have decided to change my plan and stay single.
Mainly because:
I am happy to be a lonely heart
I don’t want to break hearts of all the beauties out there who would be dejected for getting rejected.
Definitely, love is in the air.
Thanks
Mainly because:
I am happy to be a lonely heart
I don’t want to break hearts of all the beauties out there who would be dejected for getting rejected.
Definitely, love is in the air.
Thanks
Adventures of Piklu...Carnival
It was raining heavily. Piklu was disappointed. For a full year he and his friends had waited for this day. Biswakarma Puja. The day of flying kites!
The whole sky becomes colourful on this day. Not only content with challenging the rivals, kids try to challenge the birds up there. Sometimes the results are disastrous. The hawks simply cut the thread with their sharp beaks! End of the dominance.
Piklu is seven-year old now. A master kite flier. He has a gang of people to assist him. It’s almost a carnival at the terrace. Father piles up huge amount of sweets and lozenges for all the participants. Mother would cook for all of them that day. There is enough provision of glucose and other energy boosting drink. Lest the warriors get exhausted.
And kites!
Of all kinds, colours and shapes. Piklu’s family is known in the whole locality for its kite-flying enthusiasm. Just bring your spool. Kites and foods and refreshments absolutely free! No worries till the sun sets.
No wonder all of the young enthusiasts wait for the day for a full year. End of the day when the sun sets, so sink their hearts.
They were ready with their thread-full of spools. The sky was clear and bright even the day before. But out of the blue…the sky tore apart just at seven in the morning. It was a heinous crime by the rain-God. The rain was of a peculiar kind. It was showering heavily at times and suddenly would stop. But not entirely; it would drizzle long after the showers have subsided. Than it would fall heavily again.
Piklu loves rain. The scent of the newly drenched earth reminds him of a far-off land. A land, he had left long before…but could not remember properly. Every time that overpowering smell engulfs the whole world, Piklu wants to break free and run. Though he doesn’t know where to run and what freedom from what;
But today he didn’t welcome the rain. He had bombarded the elders at home past night with his whys and whats and hows. And his sister was there to answer all of his questions patiently. His father was tired after some time. And mother frowned and pretended that she had more urgent things to do than answering his stupid questions. But didi is a darling. He loves his didi the most in the world. He planned to give didi a surprise today by flying his favourite kite where he had painted a big ‘DIDI’ word.
But nothing would work today. He and his cohorts saw helplessly the condition getting worst. The sky was getting dark. Heavy clouds were refusing to move and free the sun. Even their joint plea to the rain-God was not helping.
Their throats were almost dry by chanting together:
“lebur patai karamcha…jaa brishti theme jaa” (cherries on lemon-leaf…please, oh rain subside).
But may be the Gods are heartless these days.
Then the black clouds thundered. An old pain, almost forgotten, wrenched Piklu’s heart. Piklu was struggling to keep his tears under control. But the pearls were flowing down from his cheek unguarded. Piklu was sobbing now. So was his friends. It took a matter of time before all the kids were caught crying. It was worth a priceless photograph. There were no artificiality in them.
Day rolled into afternoon. The whole world was flooded. Everywhere there were small rivers flowing. There was no chance that the sky would clear up before the night. Tomorrow everybody has schools to go.
The kids, huddled together in the verandah, were watching breathlessly the motif of the rain. All the time they were holding their spools at hand. They had meals together in the verandah. One eye at the sky. Any hint of the rain stopping and they will invade the sky and flow their flags. But…
Piklu, now losing all hope was watching at the little streams flowing in front. He was following a leaf from a long distance. It was coming fast floating. It almost zoomed past Piklu. All topsy-turvy.
Soon the entire field was taken over by the kids. They were all ready with their paper-boats. Who is the best boat-maker? Who’s boat is going to make it to the end at the now overflowing pond or ‘sea’? Which boat going to leave it in between? Which one will sink? Which one will be turned over by the swift current of the ‘river Ganga’?
Soon didi suggested that the narrow path where their boats are getting stuck is Suez Canal. Who’s boat is going to dodge that suez canal and make it to the coast of ‘England’, after sailing from ‘Calcutta’? It became a major challenge. The prestige was at stake!
Finally, when the rain stopped and the sky cleared and the sun smiled at the evening, nobody bothered. Everybody was muddy and soiled and gay! Everybody was happy for the rain.
When the streams started to slow down, they started singing:
“Aay brishti jhepe…
Dhan debo mepe…”
(come rain with your full power…we will give you paddy accordingly…)
The whole sky becomes colourful on this day. Not only content with challenging the rivals, kids try to challenge the birds up there. Sometimes the results are disastrous. The hawks simply cut the thread with their sharp beaks! End of the dominance.
Piklu is seven-year old now. A master kite flier. He has a gang of people to assist him. It’s almost a carnival at the terrace. Father piles up huge amount of sweets and lozenges for all the participants. Mother would cook for all of them that day. There is enough provision of glucose and other energy boosting drink. Lest the warriors get exhausted.
And kites!
Of all kinds, colours and shapes. Piklu’s family is known in the whole locality for its kite-flying enthusiasm. Just bring your spool. Kites and foods and refreshments absolutely free! No worries till the sun sets.
No wonder all of the young enthusiasts wait for the day for a full year. End of the day when the sun sets, so sink their hearts.
They were ready with their thread-full of spools. The sky was clear and bright even the day before. But out of the blue…the sky tore apart just at seven in the morning. It was a heinous crime by the rain-God. The rain was of a peculiar kind. It was showering heavily at times and suddenly would stop. But not entirely; it would drizzle long after the showers have subsided. Than it would fall heavily again.
Piklu loves rain. The scent of the newly drenched earth reminds him of a far-off land. A land, he had left long before…but could not remember properly. Every time that overpowering smell engulfs the whole world, Piklu wants to break free and run. Though he doesn’t know where to run and what freedom from what;
But today he didn’t welcome the rain. He had bombarded the elders at home past night with his whys and whats and hows. And his sister was there to answer all of his questions patiently. His father was tired after some time. And mother frowned and pretended that she had more urgent things to do than answering his stupid questions. But didi is a darling. He loves his didi the most in the world. He planned to give didi a surprise today by flying his favourite kite where he had painted a big ‘DIDI’ word.
But nothing would work today. He and his cohorts saw helplessly the condition getting worst. The sky was getting dark. Heavy clouds were refusing to move and free the sun. Even their joint plea to the rain-God was not helping.
Their throats were almost dry by chanting together:
“lebur patai karamcha…jaa brishti theme jaa” (cherries on lemon-leaf…please, oh rain subside).
But may be the Gods are heartless these days.
Then the black clouds thundered. An old pain, almost forgotten, wrenched Piklu’s heart. Piklu was struggling to keep his tears under control. But the pearls were flowing down from his cheek unguarded. Piklu was sobbing now. So was his friends. It took a matter of time before all the kids were caught crying. It was worth a priceless photograph. There were no artificiality in them.
Day rolled into afternoon. The whole world was flooded. Everywhere there were small rivers flowing. There was no chance that the sky would clear up before the night. Tomorrow everybody has schools to go.
The kids, huddled together in the verandah, were watching breathlessly the motif of the rain. All the time they were holding their spools at hand. They had meals together in the verandah. One eye at the sky. Any hint of the rain stopping and they will invade the sky and flow their flags. But…
Piklu, now losing all hope was watching at the little streams flowing in front. He was following a leaf from a long distance. It was coming fast floating. It almost zoomed past Piklu. All topsy-turvy.
Soon the entire field was taken over by the kids. They were all ready with their paper-boats. Who is the best boat-maker? Who’s boat is going to make it to the end at the now overflowing pond or ‘sea’? Which boat going to leave it in between? Which one will sink? Which one will be turned over by the swift current of the ‘river Ganga’?
Soon didi suggested that the narrow path where their boats are getting stuck is Suez Canal. Who’s boat is going to dodge that suez canal and make it to the coast of ‘England’, after sailing from ‘Calcutta’? It became a major challenge. The prestige was at stake!
Finally, when the rain stopped and the sky cleared and the sun smiled at the evening, nobody bothered. Everybody was muddy and soiled and gay! Everybody was happy for the rain.
When the streams started to slow down, they started singing:
“Aay brishti jhepe…
Dhan debo mepe…”
(come rain with your full power…we will give you paddy accordingly…)
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Valentine
For my ex-girlfriends and their present boyfriends:
Happy Valentine's Day
For my future girlfriends:
RUSH...FIRST COME FIRST SERVE. I AM STILL SINGLE and FREE TO MINGLE!
Happy Valentine's Day
For my future girlfriends:
RUSH...FIRST COME FIRST SERVE. I AM STILL SINGLE and FREE TO MINGLE!
Thursday, February 08, 2007
criticism
this is not fair. you slog hard for the day and at the end, you get criticism and brick-bats. i am not saying criticism is bad, but that of a heavy kind indeed hurts.
see, i helped this kid fly the kite, had a good time, and also made him proud to proclaim himself the king of the sky, when by our joint effort we managed to pack the other kids back to home and watch in envy our dominance over the sky.
he actually hired me for the entire kite-flying season. the contract being, his will be the finance and mine will be the expertise. i also consented that he has my full loyalty for this indian premiorship season. he soon crowned me the kite-king! the best he has ever seen in his five years of life.
we also let the kite fly as much as the threads in the spool allowed. it became tiny...really tiny...until the point that we had to guess where it was at the sky.
the kid invited all his friends and under an impromptu quota system invented by him, gave the other kids an opportunity to hold the spool for two-three minutes and feel the thrill.
but then, i lit the cigarette. the ash fell on the thread. the kite itself was out of sight. now we saw the thread vanish in an instant!
that is when the kid kicked me. but that didn't hurt me. neither physically, nor mentally. my exiting girlfriends always said i have a thick skin! a kiddy kick won't penetrate that.
seeing no remorse on my face, my employer threw the spool on me.
see now...noticed that swelling at my forehead? that is where the spool landed with its full force.
remedy please...i cannot go to meet my new chick with this scarred face...
see, i helped this kid fly the kite, had a good time, and also made him proud to proclaim himself the king of the sky, when by our joint effort we managed to pack the other kids back to home and watch in envy our dominance over the sky.
he actually hired me for the entire kite-flying season. the contract being, his will be the finance and mine will be the expertise. i also consented that he has my full loyalty for this indian premiorship season. he soon crowned me the kite-king! the best he has ever seen in his five years of life.
we also let the kite fly as much as the threads in the spool allowed. it became tiny...really tiny...until the point that we had to guess where it was at the sky.
the kid invited all his friends and under an impromptu quota system invented by him, gave the other kids an opportunity to hold the spool for two-three minutes and feel the thrill.
but then, i lit the cigarette. the ash fell on the thread. the kite itself was out of sight. now we saw the thread vanish in an instant!
that is when the kid kicked me. but that didn't hurt me. neither physically, nor mentally. my exiting girlfriends always said i have a thick skin! a kiddy kick won't penetrate that.
seeing no remorse on my face, my employer threw the spool on me.
see now...noticed that swelling at my forehead? that is where the spool landed with its full force.
remedy please...i cannot go to meet my new chick with this scarred face...
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
gobsmacked!
what a tough choice this beta blogger is (for a layman). i tried to change the layout and now all my settings have gone haywire. my office computer is not allowing me to debug the errors and errors are not letting me to change the settings as i want.
in the process, some links have vanished. some bloglinks have clubbed with others into a totally different header. it's a pain.
i promise i will fix this this saturday going into a cafe. by then, those who cannot see their blog link here, please don't be angry (i mean don't delete my link from your esteemed blog).
cheers
in the process, some links have vanished. some bloglinks have clubbed with others into a totally different header. it's a pain.
i promise i will fix this this saturday going into a cafe. by then, those who cannot see their blog link here, please don't be angry (i mean don't delete my link from your esteemed blog).
cheers
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Madman
You should not say obvious things which might hurt somebody. For example, you should not say a visually impaired as blind. Or, you should not call a physically challenged as lame. Or, you should not term my father, who is losing his grey cells very fast, as mad.
But, you cannot always control yourself. Like that day I yelled at him over the phone, “You are a mad man. No argument about that.” But he was not hurt, because the mobile he was using does not catch signals properly. It’s a first generation Nokia phone. The walky-talky types police carry in Calcutta along with their first world war rifles.
I am a very sober kind of person by nature. I don’t remember hurting anybody except my girlfriends…whom I used to chuck after courting for two months.
But, let me explain why I had to be rude to my father.
I got a phone call yesterday which froze my bones. As soon as I accepted the call a baritone voice roared: “Hello Mr. Roy, I am retired Colonel Bagchi reporting from point 335, I mean calling from Ballygunj. Let me introduce myself to you. I am a highly decorated army man from 1964’s batch. During the 1965 war, I was posted in Bihar and during the 1971 war, I was in Bangalore. At the time of the Kargil war, I was in charge of Calcutta. I retired last year and was long searching for you.”
My heart sank. Now what I have done on earth that a bombastic army colonel should search me for a long time. I managed to murmur, “sir, though I was in turbulent North-East and have covered insurgency extensively, I swear I don’t have any dealings with the militant group there. In fact, I have a good rapport with military and have cooperated with them when they wanted (do I have any other option?).”
“Oh Ok, so you were in North-East and covering insurgency. Let me note down.”
“So you didn’t know that sir,” I was almost cursing myself for letting him know my folly.
“No absolutely no.”
“Sir, if you don’t mind, may I ask what’s my fault? Why a highly decorated army man should call me searching? What have I done?”
“This was regarding your job.”
“But sir, I am twenty-eight years almost. And I have a poor eye sight. And a very poor physique. And an even poor state of courage to join army.”
“Oh no, I am not talking about you joining Army. It’s good that pen-pushers like you didn’t join army and pollute the sacred institution. I was just asking what do you do in Bangalore?”
“You don’t know that sir? I thought you know everything before you called me.”
“I know that you are a journalist, the last refuge for useless bastards. I got your number from your father actually.”
I knew, I always knew father is my biggest enemy. Now that I have grown up and become stronger than him, he is searching ways to flog me again to his heart’s content. He doesn’t want to let leave his control over me so easily. He is now employing army-men to achieve this objective. How shrewd and cheap he is! Just like me.
“Sir, I don’t know why father has given you my number. But to my knowledge, except for breaking traffic signals, I haven’t done any wrong.” I carefully hid my eve-teasing and leching part, the only folly uncontrollable by me.
“Of course you have done a wrong.”
“Why sir, I am ready to surrender. I am ready to accept my wrong, if any. Tell me, tell me. pray do tell me.” I could hear the lub-dubs.
“You have done the wrong of coming of age!” The colonel burst out in laughter. So loud that my ear was ringing. He was obviously very proud of his poor jokes.
“Didn’t get you sir.”
“can you keep my daughter happy for her life?”
“Depends, how old is she?”
“Just twenty-three. She is the cutest doll I have ever seen. Thoroughly brought up in an atmosphere of Kalashnikov. She was born in a military hospital at Meerut where army sergeants pulled her by a mine detector. She is a disciplined girl. My girl.”
“Sure sir. I can keep her as long as she is twenty-three. Her entire life of twenty-three in fact. And I will not charge anything. When can I get her?”
The army-colonel, true to his nature, didn’t understand anything out of its face value. “So, shall I think you are ready? When can I expect for a date?”
“I am ready for a date anytime sir. Please bring her.”
“so shall I fix the marriage-date, consulting with your father?”
Here is where I got a shock of my life. “hold on, hold on. You said marriage!”
“yes, of course, and you said you are ready. I am recording the call. You have admitted and consented, now you cannot back out without a court-marshal. You retreat, and you will be fired. Hahahahahahaha…” that rascal again left my ears ringing.
It was now time to become tough. What the fuck a retired colonel will do to me? besides, if he really wants to do something, I can always marry his minefield of a daughter. he had said she is cute!
I meekly told him to give me a week’s time and immediately called up my father. How many times I have told this man not to search a girl for me. my office is teeming with beauties. Hadn’t I selected one, if I wanted? I have no plans to marry now. But he will not listen. He will stop even a rickshaw puller and ask for girls to marry me off. Surely, he is getting old and now his sole wish is to increase his line even if that is at the cost of his son’s happiness.
It was now my time to shout. “Why have you given the colonel my number?” I had to repeat it thrice because of the phone he was using.
“you will marry, you understand. Why are you dragging me in it. Why should I fall in between? I am just playing a good cupid. So I have given him your number.”
“did I ask you to look for a girl for me? you didn't had a reputation for philanthropic activities, forget playing cupid. remember the beating you gave me when you discovered me with your friend's daughter at the attic?”
He was silent for while. may be repenting his sadistic cruelty he mooted against me. than, with a heavy, sad voice, he said: “you don’t want a celebration at home? You don’t want all the locality to come to our house and give you good gifts? Joy and merriment for a week? Marriage is the only way out,” he said innocently.
“why don’t you yourself get married than? I will come to dance. I will bring my mother also to bless the newly weds,” I was quite furious.
Finally after some arguments, he spilled the beans. “Actually, the colonel’s voice was so darth vader type ... and he was, as if, commanding. I was scared. I gave him your number. I am sorry, but words and arrows cannot be called back. Now you and your future father-in-law settle things between you. I will not interfere. Just after a year or two give me my grandson or a grand-daughter. And I will be happy.”
That is when I yelled at him. “YOU ARE A MAD MAN!”
But thanks to the walky-talky…it didn’t reach him.
He was still doing hello hello and hello…when I hung up.
P.S. that colonel is going to call me again Saturday. Please suggest how to save my arse. That bastard is going to shoot me. and I live very near to the cantonment.
But, you cannot always control yourself. Like that day I yelled at him over the phone, “You are a mad man. No argument about that.” But he was not hurt, because the mobile he was using does not catch signals properly. It’s a first generation Nokia phone. The walky-talky types police carry in Calcutta along with their first world war rifles.
I am a very sober kind of person by nature. I don’t remember hurting anybody except my girlfriends…whom I used to chuck after courting for two months.
But, let me explain why I had to be rude to my father.
I got a phone call yesterday which froze my bones. As soon as I accepted the call a baritone voice roared: “Hello Mr. Roy, I am retired Colonel Bagchi reporting from point 335, I mean calling from Ballygunj. Let me introduce myself to you. I am a highly decorated army man from 1964’s batch. During the 1965 war, I was posted in Bihar and during the 1971 war, I was in Bangalore. At the time of the Kargil war, I was in charge of Calcutta. I retired last year and was long searching for you.”
My heart sank. Now what I have done on earth that a bombastic army colonel should search me for a long time. I managed to murmur, “sir, though I was in turbulent North-East and have covered insurgency extensively, I swear I don’t have any dealings with the militant group there. In fact, I have a good rapport with military and have cooperated with them when they wanted (do I have any other option?).”
“Oh Ok, so you were in North-East and covering insurgency. Let me note down.”
“So you didn’t know that sir,” I was almost cursing myself for letting him know my folly.
“No absolutely no.”
“Sir, if you don’t mind, may I ask what’s my fault? Why a highly decorated army man should call me searching? What have I done?”
“This was regarding your job.”
“But sir, I am twenty-eight years almost. And I have a poor eye sight. And a very poor physique. And an even poor state of courage to join army.”
“Oh no, I am not talking about you joining Army. It’s good that pen-pushers like you didn’t join army and pollute the sacred institution. I was just asking what do you do in Bangalore?”
“You don’t know that sir? I thought you know everything before you called me.”
“I know that you are a journalist, the last refuge for useless bastards. I got your number from your father actually.”
I knew, I always knew father is my biggest enemy. Now that I have grown up and become stronger than him, he is searching ways to flog me again to his heart’s content. He doesn’t want to let leave his control over me so easily. He is now employing army-men to achieve this objective. How shrewd and cheap he is! Just like me.
“Sir, I don’t know why father has given you my number. But to my knowledge, except for breaking traffic signals, I haven’t done any wrong.” I carefully hid my eve-teasing and leching part, the only folly uncontrollable by me.
“Of course you have done a wrong.”
“Why sir, I am ready to surrender. I am ready to accept my wrong, if any. Tell me, tell me. pray do tell me.” I could hear the lub-dubs.
“You have done the wrong of coming of age!” The colonel burst out in laughter. So loud that my ear was ringing. He was obviously very proud of his poor jokes.
“Didn’t get you sir.”
“can you keep my daughter happy for her life?”
“Depends, how old is she?”
“Just twenty-three. She is the cutest doll I have ever seen. Thoroughly brought up in an atmosphere of Kalashnikov. She was born in a military hospital at Meerut where army sergeants pulled her by a mine detector. She is a disciplined girl. My girl.”
“Sure sir. I can keep her as long as she is twenty-three. Her entire life of twenty-three in fact. And I will not charge anything. When can I get her?”
The army-colonel, true to his nature, didn’t understand anything out of its face value. “So, shall I think you are ready? When can I expect for a date?”
“I am ready for a date anytime sir. Please bring her.”
“so shall I fix the marriage-date, consulting with your father?”
Here is where I got a shock of my life. “hold on, hold on. You said marriage!”
“yes, of course, and you said you are ready. I am recording the call. You have admitted and consented, now you cannot back out without a court-marshal. You retreat, and you will be fired. Hahahahahahaha…” that rascal again left my ears ringing.
It was now time to become tough. What the fuck a retired colonel will do to me? besides, if he really wants to do something, I can always marry his minefield of a daughter. he had said she is cute!
I meekly told him to give me a week’s time and immediately called up my father. How many times I have told this man not to search a girl for me. my office is teeming with beauties. Hadn’t I selected one, if I wanted? I have no plans to marry now. But he will not listen. He will stop even a rickshaw puller and ask for girls to marry me off. Surely, he is getting old and now his sole wish is to increase his line even if that is at the cost of his son’s happiness.
It was now my time to shout. “Why have you given the colonel my number?” I had to repeat it thrice because of the phone he was using.
“you will marry, you understand. Why are you dragging me in it. Why should I fall in between? I am just playing a good cupid. So I have given him your number.”
“did I ask you to look for a girl for me? you didn't had a reputation for philanthropic activities, forget playing cupid. remember the beating you gave me when you discovered me with your friend's daughter at the attic?”
He was silent for while. may be repenting his sadistic cruelty he mooted against me. than, with a heavy, sad voice, he said: “you don’t want a celebration at home? You don’t want all the locality to come to our house and give you good gifts? Joy and merriment for a week? Marriage is the only way out,” he said innocently.
“why don’t you yourself get married than? I will come to dance. I will bring my mother also to bless the newly weds,” I was quite furious.
Finally after some arguments, he spilled the beans. “Actually, the colonel’s voice was so darth vader type ... and he was, as if, commanding. I was scared. I gave him your number. I am sorry, but words and arrows cannot be called back. Now you and your future father-in-law settle things between you. I will not interfere. Just after a year or two give me my grandson or a grand-daughter. And I will be happy.”
That is when I yelled at him. “YOU ARE A MAD MAN!”
But thanks to the walky-talky…it didn’t reach him.
He was still doing hello hello and hello…when I hung up.
P.S. that colonel is going to call me again Saturday. Please suggest how to save my arse. That bastard is going to shoot me. and I live very near to the cantonment.
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