He laughs best who laughs last.
The world is indeed an interesting place to be in, a confetti of characters strewn across the landscape, each with a mind of its own, and everyone seems to be proving a point( not proving a point may be "proving" as well!!)while some may surge ahead, the dormant majority that chugs in the mill is a worth a peek, it is strange how a majority sits blank faced( indian junta and election day) yet produce the most dramatic results (gandhis, laloos, bhaiyas and behens of various size and capacities). In such dormant lanes, insidiously encroaching the "urban" sphere, amidst the stench (your phoren return cousin would talk about it while bhabhijis, auntjees are busy debating on the prefect match for him), reeking drains pipes aligned at odd angles with your morning offerings vying to break free and attain salvation, in that perfect moment of serendipity when an individual strayed from the path of life is walking right under the mesh.In those lanes where litter is "aesthetically" placed like toppings on your papa johns pizza( tis the same trash you wish to "disappear" from your lives...)and why the remnants of "road" resembles a leper, all you would wish is to say is...."what have i gotten myself into"(and yes you are thinking that too) but the world there is far more grotesque than this verbal rhetoric, but kingdoms, territories, exist. And its not just the boundaries that the municipality would draw to pass the buck to( railways, panchayat, PWD, for-rest etc) while these lines may not be seen, some are visible and to be precise of the canines(sorry they are "slumdogs" now), you are aware of it the moment you enter, some pairs of eyes would inadvertently turn towards you, a reconnaissance mission shall be directed towards you,( i would run away at that only!) but even as some display there claws and teeth(phew!!!) and upon rummaging deeper, gnawing in the corner you would find the sullen faced, beaten, bruised variety. lets name him, athos that's your name now... so athos is an outsider, kicked out when master saw no good in him( that explains his "fancy" name) athos waiting for a canine equivalent of St. Gertrude, feeding on what would be discarded even by the lords of the lanes, eyes the younger ones and ends getting a bite or two from anyone looking for a silent punching bag, and even those rag pickers have figured out how he is an easy target, 20 points for the tail, 40 for hitting the belly, he lingers like his shadow only waiting for the day to end........ but one day as it lay there, watching the world with half opened eyes the municipality truck came unannounced, it was his day, the lords were away for a skirmish and it were to be athos to "decide" for himself, so lay in front of him a mountain as fabled and only him to appreciate.But as his old bones made way for the infant desire, the dogs had surfaced, to hell with these noses!!, thought athos, but as it turned out only the "lord" had arrived, this good for nothing son of a bitch!!( pun!!)was about to spoil the party...... he had to act fast, offense was already done, big or small was out of question, but it was his day, the truck had come for him, the dog inside him was now bursting out, the lord "growled"-its over granpa, not today said athos( as you complained why do dogs have to bark right in the middle of day-break), athos knew he was no match, what can an underdog do?? or can he??? was the box leaning on one side telling him something, did the truck intentionally dumped more than it used to, can he tip it over, time was too little to decide this, may be he could see something now, maybe a checkmate, a checkmate that would be costly, he feared the debacle that were to follow..... but athos never knew how he did, the thud was probably the last thing he heard, but he did... he had the lions share, and he had upset the tables for lords...... so as there were no obituaries, athos lay there, a little smile on his face, disfigured by the blood...........
Replace athos with victims of subprime, and read it again....... the underdogs created the loudest thud...... they had the last laugh as the giants tumbled..........think on it.........have a great day..
Well no excuses for being absent for quite sometime, seems like everyone around is in story writing mode( adding their bits of twist to a fairly "straight" world) and between this interplay( my poor soul) tries to foray into a domain not mine( hail Rahuldash!!) and even as the title suggests nothing.... i am (damn!!!) nervous as i pen this down.....
The streets are dusty, and in this part of india at this time two things happen rather assidously.... the sun beating down relentlessly as the dust storm kicks those last flops of life lying hapelessly, and a fracas of kids who sneaked out of homes and hitting hard to become some dhonis and pathans...... and just a couple yards, next to the edifice of some exploits, long forgotten, sits the mother looking at the kids watching the kids fight over the missed run-out, dropped catch, breaking into a smile watching them squabble, flinching muscles as the little boy with school shirt hanging loose, trying to hit hard. so even as life drifts in this little hamlet away from the mad mad world few hikes away, not everything is dead, why the sarpanch just got 2 hours of electricity in the village and with TV sets to boast of and mobile antennas to hang on, the kitsch of city life seemed to be knocking a few doors, atleast the home of sarpanch, so the mother sits waiting for the son to turn up, in absence of a husband who is some local lord, extending his fief to till her boudoir, is hardly a life to be happy of... and she has her own share of being the "it" girl few years back.. the mother sits back recalling all this..... alternating between those sepia moments and uninspiring present. The cover girl of the village now tied to this "bull" with no regards whatsoever, just because he was the highest bidder, so much for a "body", but what's the point of thinking all this. duelling with herself. or rather consoling over the present.. she breaks to finish the daily choirs... cleaning the levee in front of house( sarpanch's pride) and clearing the mess after the never ending tea-sessions( bhabhi... just one more cup of tea... there is something different in the tea you make) the bellicose brother in law, for whom world was a idyllic spot, quipped.... though she had her fall in the form of him when she came was new, but quick to realize that his failures were beyond bed as well, so even as she brushed past him, she couldn't stop herself to look what he was ogling at, ah! another hollywood strip, those pencil thin bitches she sighed, recalling her over-zealous efforts to do the same, how close she was.... but quick to revert to the reality... "what thrill do you derive watching these good for nothing plastic bodies" quipped the "mother", so with his eyes dancing the brother in law suddenly saw all reasons to enlighten her, and broke into his rhetoric of how beauty when wrapped in clothing with inches fighting to hold the kilograms inside, was when art really came out, as if the jury of the "rampur idol" boasting bolly ties.... and finished to goad her " and what do you know about glamour, this is just not your cup of tea".... how could she have had known... how it was too surreal to be true.... and all she could do was..but smile... our Pinki gave the same smile... which was watched form delhi to dallas, how she flew to a world she would yearn to back for just one more time, how those flashes of camera couldn't capture all that went to make that smile, how those funny nifty-grifty manual of how to say "thank you", hold a knife and fork well doled out to her... only if she could have had made sense of all this and not been like a child watching the juggler.. too awed to make out anything... she could have had been something.... may be a bhojpuri movie or two... but there sat Pinki smiling... smiling and wondering if the idiot was worth knowing all this.....
To finish do watch "smile pinki"...........
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