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Wednesday, March 30, 2011

A Bullshit Story ?


‘Are you OK babuji?’  a tight knot  of vegetable vendors surrounded  Golok Babu as he lay sprawled over a pile of potatoes.

‘Throw some water over his face’, shouted one. ‘I cannot see his face, help me turn him around’, shouted another as he tried to turn Golok Babu, who lay face down on the pile.  The heaving sent him rolling down the pile of rounded tubers - the limp form glided down the heap and stopped against the sack of cauliflowers stacked at the back of the mud and straw vegetable shack.

Abe Bhaag!! Saand vapas aa raha hai!’ (Run!! The Bull is coming back!) The loud shout ended the humanitarian activity in the busy corner of “Budhwari Bazaar” – the weekly farmer’s market that congregated every Wednesday on an open ground next to the Government Intermediate School of the sleepy little town of Rampur. 

The vendors left their wares and dispersed as the big bull charged down the muddy lane of the Bazaar. Golok babu stirred slightly as the sound of the mud squelching hoofs came closer and closer…

****

There were seven farmer markets scattered around the town of Rampur, one for each day of the week.  Golok babu sometimes found it confusing as he had to recall what day of the week it was, before heading out the appropriate market. His job as the manager of the busy petrol pump and automobile service station, did not give him time to reflect upon what day of the week it was. Every day was equally mundane and boring – except Sunday, which was his only day off in the week and the day when he partied with his friends.

‘Why can’t they setup a permanent farmer’s market’, he fumed as he waded through the muddy slush from rainfall that occurred last night, clutching on to his big jute bag with bamboo reinforced handles.  

‘Bull Shit!’, he muttered under his breath as he maneuvered around a big bull that was sitting calmly on the middle of the muddy road. The black bull with a brown hump on its back, was chewing cud calmly as its glassy eyes gazed into a distance. The Bull turned its head lazily towards Golok babu as he jumped over a puddle, holding up the trousers of his tight Safari Suit, rolling up the big red jute back tightly under his arm.

His wife Savita had bought the bag especially for Golok Babu from Belgachchia when she had gone to visit her sister in Calcutta.’ He always loses his shopping bag ’, she had complained to her sister. ‘Why don’t you get him a brightly colored one – that will be easy to spot … even in a crowded bazaar?’

Golok Babu was bent over picking up medium size Haldwani potatoes from the big pile in front of him when the commotion broke out. Amidst screams and yells, the sound of mid squelching hoofs got louder and louder. Bang! The Bull’s horns grazed Golok Babu’s buttocks, barely missing it, as it’s forehead whacked into its target. Golok Babu went flying head on right into the pile of shiny yellow potatoes.

****

Golok Babu had just turned forty last Sunday. He had a small party at his home, attended by his close friends. ‘You don’t look forty at all’, his best friend’s wife squealed handing Golok a wrapped present. It was a tee shirt that said “It is all downhill from here”. She and her husband had laughed in glee imagining Golok’s face when he would open the gift.

‘It is the black hair’, Golok beamed flicking his dyed hair, ‘I got it from my grandfather’, he lied as his grandfather ashes squirmed in their resting place in the bank of river Ganges. Golok put up his best mock laugh that would put “Gabbar Singh” to shame as he opened the gift and showed the tee shirt around.

‘He was promoted yesterday’, Savita said beaming to the guests, who feigned a polite smile. ‘He is the General Manager now!’. The guests had to try harder to retain their smile – their hosts were really making them work today.

The fact was that Golok babu had been doing exactly the same work for the last ten years which was basically making sure that the workers of the petrol pump did not sleep at work and maintained their fear of getting fired.  ‘Bull Shit’, Golok Babu would roar in his squeaky voice to an erring service man.

‘Bull Shit’, he would roar again to a dozing pump operator, before slipping back into his air-conditioned office and dreaming about what he would have for dinner.

Every three years or so, the owner of the petrol pump would come up with an innovative designation and announce it in front of the grumpy staff wearing dirty overalls. The people at work hardly cared about the designation change – at least from the bigger scheme of things about getting work done. Neither did Golok babu care whether these people cared or not. Strangely, the people who he really cared about if they cared about his designation were the guests he met at the Sunday parties.  

****

The sound of hoofs stopped suddenly. Golok Babu turned around, the potatoes digging into his aching buttocks. The hustle, bustle and commotion had strangely dissolved into an eerie silence. Then it happened. The big black bull widened it's snout before opening up its lips to show a row of blackened teeth causes by years of cud-chewing. It spoke.

‘Do you even know what Bull Shit means?’, the squeaky voice was grossly out of place. Besides the fact that your don’t expect a Bull to speak, say if it did - you would  expect it to sound something like Simba’s dad in  Lion King, or in the worst case like the donkey in Shrek. This one sounded like Mickey Mouse!

‘You said Bull Shit when you passed me at the entrance of the farmers market ...’ the Bull continued.

Golok babu looked at the Bull with a dazed expression. ‘It is a hhhabit’, he squeaked ‘I say it all the time…’

‘ But do you know what it means?’

Golok did not know how to respond to that question. His brain told him to answer the question with specifics about the etymological origin of the slang - how it originated in England, its close cousin “Bollocks” and how he had picked it up at college and had used it frequently since then.

His smarting bottom told him otherwise. 

‘Let me tell you what it means’, The Bull sat down on the muddy path in front of the vegetable shack and plucked a bunch of radishes that had been neatly arranged in front of the vegetable shack with their green leaves sprawled like a headrest for the shiny white roots. He finished chomping as Golok babu watched in silence.

‘It means saying half truths to impress others’, The Bull gave a quick snort as he wagged its tail to smack an ant that was climbing up his muddy rear. ‘They taught us in Bull Shit 101. Can’t become a Bull until you clear the course …’ , he added with pretentious humility. The Bull then lowered his neck and wiggled his hump. ‘Bull Shit has a significant strategic importance for us ‘, he said in a lowered voice, quickly glancing around him.

‘We the Bulls of the world are really counting on you humans to restore us back to the fame we had in the past. Those were the days - companion of Lord Siva, a whole constellation to ourselves’, the Bull sighed, ‘We are counting on the affinity of the human race for Bull Shit to make that happen again’ the bull looked straight into Golok Babu’s eyes.

“I do it all the time Mr. Bull’, Golok was quick to spot an opportunity ‘Saying half truths to impress others …’ , He boasted offering the Bull a leafy bunch of spinach, ‘I don’t stop even there, when there is no one around …  I Bull Shit to myself’, he added in a lowered voice.

‘Good’, the Bull said breaking the eye contact ‘Super. That is how it should be. It starts with you and before we know families, societies, town, cities and countries start bullshitting to each other. The entire world drenched in the sweet smell of bullshit’, The bull grabbed another bunch of radish and started chewing it slowly.

 ‘Out of all the people that you could have goaded with your wise head – why did you choose me?’, Golok babu could finally muster the courage to ask the question that has been sifting through his mind.

‘I can’t say ... I spotted something …’

‘It is was the red shopping bag – wasn’t it?’

‘No – not that’, The bull replied lazily ‘It was your red underwear that is showing through your ripped suit’

Golok babu sprang on to his feet and examined the big rip in his favorite suit. The suit that had gotten tighter over the years as the dinners he dreamed about during his work piled up in his body. The white suit had become off white after years of work and Sunday parties.

The pant of the safari suit was torn right along his buttocks showing his red underwear !

The End

Thursday, March 10, 2011

How does that matter ?



RRRRRRRRRRRRR-RRRRR!! The engines started and the plane started moving, going fast then faster then the fastest it could possibly go. The plane took off. I thought about my homework, then suddenly, ppppppsh! The plane flew through a cloud so fast that I felt sick. I tried to get my attention off it, so I started to play my DS …

‘How is it?’, Rishi asked his mom expectantly.

‘It is great Rishi …’ Anita said as she browsed through the story her fifth grader son had written.

‘Which part do you like the most ?’, Rishi asked. He was now peering over Anita’s shoulders, breathing down her neck.

‘Hmmm, I will have to go with this …’  

When we got to the Emerald bay,  I pretty much dived in the water because I was in a hurry to see the fish and when I did I was aghast. The fishes were all sizes; shapes and colors, there were purple fish, orange fish, green fish and any other color fish you could think of!! I saw at least 1,000,000 fish.

But you need to fix the grammar in a lot of places’, Anita winked at Rishi. Just then Rishi’s five year old sister who was hovering around the room, decided to jump into the action.

 ‘I want to read that story too!’, Tanu declared, trying to grab Rishi’s notebook.

‘You cannot even read!’ Rishi responded cruelly ‘besides, I won’t share my story with you – go write your own’ 

Tanu and Rishi’s ocean of sibling love was currently under low tide. The trouble had started about fifteen minutes ago when Tanu refused to share the candies from the goody bag she got from a birthday party of her classmate.  Rishi had been fuming all morning that he was not invited to his sister’s friend’s birthday party.  Tanu's refusal to share goodies from the party had pushed her brother over the edge.

‘How about I tell you both a story’, Anita suggested jumping into the couch. The leather couch felt warm as the late afternoon sun shone through the patio door. Tanu and Rishi snuggled around their mother.

Once upon a time, there was a huge lagoon overlooking vast expanse of blue Ocean in the western coast of the island of Oahu.  Huge volcanic mountains guarded the sandy beach along it’s coast, their mossy green slopes casting an emerald shadow over the sparkling water.  

In the lagoon were white corals and colorful fish. The fish were all sizes, shapes and colors; there were purple fish, orange fish, green fish and any other color fish you could think of!!

‘That part is from my story!‘, Rishi exclaimed, grinning ear to ear as Tanu glanced at him from the corner of her eyes.

‘I told you I like that part ...’, Anita smiled and continued with the story…


But this story is not about the green mountains, the emerald lagoon or the colorful fish. It is about something just across the bay, deep in the Ocean – two little waves. A small wave called Honu and his friend Meha. 


‘Was Meha Honu’s girlfriend?’, Rishi interrupted.

‘How does that matter? Shut up!’, Tanu was getting back her pound of flesh.

Anita resumed the story quickly, averting the impending flare up.

Honu and Meha lived with millions of other waves in the ocean.  They spent most of their time jumping in and out of the ocean with other small waves, making the ocean look like a giant trampoline. 

‘I can’t wait to a become a big swell’, Honu said eying one of the big swells lazily rolling around the surface, not too far from them.

‘They say that one has to learn the language of the winds, and follow them to faraway places before you become big – it that true? ‘, Meha remarked plopping next to Honu.

‘Yes that is true’ , Honu replied ‘ And don’t tell anyone ...’. He added with a hushed splash,‘ I have almost learnt the language of the winds. They say that westerly winds will pass again this way soon. I am going to follow them … ‘

‘I don’t want you leave me alone’, Meha was almost in tears. It was difficult to detect that though because the tears looked pretty much like rest of her – salty water.

‘I won’t.  I will take you with me.’

Several waves had followed the westerly winds a little while ago. Honu had watched in admiration as the first wave had set out on the ocean following the wind and as other waves had followed. He had been preparing for his own excursion listening to the incessant splashes of the big old wise swell that ebbed around the little waves, sharing with them drops of wisdom.

‘The wind takes us out on our journey – without it, we are nothing’, the big old wave had said, ‘Never forget that’.  Towering over the little waves, the big swell looked remarkably peaceful as it rolled around on the surface of the ocean. ‘Also, it gets a bit cold when the wind gets strong – put on your white caps if that happens’, the old wave had said.

But the words of wisdom were forgotten as soon as the wind had picked up. The waves had scrambled out on the ocean surface with a rush of excitement.  Like a giant roller coaster through the ocean – the ones on the front riding under the illusion that they were leading and the ones on the back under the illusion that they were following as the winds heaved them towards their destiny.


‘Why did the small waves forget about the old wave’s words?’, Rishi asked

‘Is the Old wave Grandpa of the small waves?’  Tanu chirped in.

"How does that mater?" it was Rishi’s time to get back at Tanu.

Anita smiled and continued with the story…

So the westerly winds arrived shortly.  It was a clear morning and a wise old wave was telling them about stories from faraway seas when the wind had started to pick up.

 ‘Hey !  I am shining like a diamond!’, a small ripple shouted, basking in the reflected glory of the mid morning sun. ‘Of course you are!’  The wise wave did not want to dampen the enthusiasm of the small ripple, ‘You must see the waves near the emerald lagoon which is just down the horizon though …‘, he continued as he patiently rolled around the restless ripples, ‘ I have heard that the waves there look like red rubies !’  

‘How can a wave look red?’ Meha had wondered but she was too shy to ask.  Both Meha and Honu were less than a day old which almost made them teenagers in wave years. They had not seen a sunset yet.

Just then the winds picked up again. ‘Follow me’, Honu shouted at Meha as they set out in the open sea.  Meha followed Honu and along with countless other ripples, started speeding up towards the horizon.

‘Do red waves really exist?’ Meha asked Honu as they glided through the ocean surface. She had been wondering about what the old wave had said just before they set out, ‘I would love to see a red wave.’ 

‘You don't believe in the old wave’s stories, do you ‘, Honu laughed ‘He is mad. Blue waves, yellow waves, even green waves I can imagine. But how in the name of floating kelp can a wave be red?’
Honu laughed as he swelled with the wind – he was getting bigger.

They cruised along for a few more hours. The winds were picking up and the waves had put on their white caps. ‘The old wave did talk sense sometimes ... like putting up the white caps ...’, Meha sort of  liked the old wise wave - his quiet roll was different from the restless ripples surrounding her.

‘Ha ! everyone knows about white caps’ , Honu shouted above the wind ‘ How about the other rubbish he talks about -  like all of us being connected ?  You, me and every other wave being just a small part of the ocean … do you remember that ?  That old wave – I tell you … it’s time for him to evaporate.’

A faint outline of a shore appeared far away near the horizon, and with it a swarm of pelicans who glided noisily past them. ‘


Watch out’, Meha shouted as a row of Pelicans dived towards Honu. Before Honu could realize, the pelicans crashed through his ebbing form as he watched them in disbelief . His quiet disbelief turned into horror as the pelicans reappeared, each of them flying out with a squirming Anchovy in its beak.


‘The old wave did say that there are treasures hidden in the ocean- just beneath the waves’, Meha  said excitedly. A visibly subdued Honu took off his white cap and rolled silently towards the shore. 


It was getting dark and the familiar blue sky had started to turn orange. The distant shore was getting closer and closer as mossy green mountains loomed above them. Just then Honu crashed into a big reef that guarded the emerald lagoon. Meha crashed shortly after, creating a big splash of salty water.

The spash of water spilled into the lagoon filled with colored fish- The fish were all sizes, shapes and colors; there were purple fish, orange fish, green fish and any other color fish you could think of!!. 


The splash started small ripples in the lagoon. The emerald ripples danced in joy as the sun set across the ocean.

The End

Anita, Rishi and Tanu lay quietly, basking in the late afternoon sun. ‘You used that part again – the part with colorful fish’, Rishi said breaking the silence. Tanu was staring out of the window at the sun which was setting behind the woods.

‘I really liked that part’ Anita replied poking Rishi on his side.

‘Did Meha and Honu Die?’ Tanu asked, still looking out of the patio door.

‘The pretty red ripples in the emerald pool … they were new waves , weren’t they?’, Rishi  asked looking at Anita.

‘How does that matter?’ Anita hugged Tanu and Rishi and rolled over in the couch, playfully pinning them down. The room was filled with delighted screams of the two children.

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