And before I knew it, I had hit ‘SEND’.
I felt terrible, but I had no other choice. ‘SEND’ is the abbreviation of the name of my dear friend, whose real name I will not reveal, since I completely agree with Nazeeruddin Shah’s words in the movie ‘A Wednesday’, that people scout for religion in a name.
That was the most forgettable of all the mornings of my life. The irony is that I recollect that morning the most as the most forgettable morning of my life. It began like an A R Rehman’s melodious composition, quickly faded, and ended up like RG’s speech at CII. On that fateful morning, for the first time in five years, my motor bike, my love, wouldn’t start. It was 7:00 am in the morning and it would be foolish on my part to expect the mechanic shop to be open. So I decided to choose the onerous task of walking half a kilometre to the nearest bus stand. On the way to the bus stand I realised how drastically my locality had changed, and later I realised that one tends to miss these details when all one does is take off in his motor bike every day. My neighbours and the usual onlookers were surprised to see me on foot, so much so that one of the ladies, a friend of mom, decided to portray three exclamation marks as the rangoli for the day. I reached the bus stand and was proud of the fact that I would contribute to the exchequer by using the public transport that day which, I completely agree, would fall nanoscopically short when compared to how much the President depletes the exchequer on his/her foreign trip. There I saw a CHANGED India. People, surprisingly all of them male, were standing in a QUEUE!!!!!!
All my fretting was washed away in a jiffy the moment I saw HER on the other side of the road. She was easily the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Her blue infinitely deep eyes, pitch black perfectly-groomed hair, wheat-brown complexioned skin were a testament to how good an artist god is (OOPS, ‘COLOURED’ WAS LAST WEEK’S THEME RIGHT, I AM SORRY). Any worthy male on earth would be more than willing to buy her as many kilograms of onion she ordered in return to her resplendent smile which bordered the wizardry, even if it meant that he had to import them from Afghanistan. I noticed that my neighbour, also my college-mate, whom I had conveniently ignored all these days in the fear that I had to drop him every day in my bike if I befriended him, was standing right in front of me. SHE walked close to the queue, close enough to eavesdrop a casual chat, and was gesturing at a group of people a fair distance away. I was all decided to make a wonderful first impression and I began to chat with my neighbour.
” So, dude going by bus is it? I love the change in the Indian mentality. We have queues in the bus-stop. Wow! a great transformation” I remarked in a slightly beefed up accent.
Before my neighbour, who surprisingly looked surprised at my remark, could utter a word, my friend ‘SEND’ joined us and interrupted.
“What da macha? What are you doing here da? Where is your darling bike ra macha?” he quizzed in the most rankling way.
“My bike is under repair and what else will I do in a bus stand other than waiting for a bus you dumbo?” I retorted, happy that I sounded a little more intelligent and sophisticated(based on my usage of dumbo compared to his macha, which was local). I was sure she was eavesdropping since she too chuckled at our conversation.
Both my neighbour and ‘SEND’ had a hearty laugh. ” Dai macha, I am not dumbo da. You are. You have not traveled by bus for ages da. The bus stop was shifted from here four years ago da. This queue is for people waiting to meet heroins of popular TV serials. It is a campaign launched by a TV channel against the crime on women happening at different parts of our country. The heroins will tie RAKHI to willing men. Today they have chosen our locality da. (Coming close to me he whispered) The lady standing close to us is the latest bahoo in the serial ‘Kkyon kki bahoo bhi kkisikki beti thee.’ (Purposely increasing his decibel levels) You are the only one who are trying to impress a woman so that she ties RAKHI to you da, you big dumbo” he said.
I did not know where to hide my face. I was crestfallen when my neighbour, ‘SEND’ and ‘SHE’ were laughing out loudly at my expense. Five minutes later SHE tied RAKHI and said “Thanks Bhaiya”. What more?, IT WAS LATER TELECASTED IN THE CHANNEL NEWS and my entire family watched it and congratulated me on my noble deed.
‘SEND’ paid a visit that night. “Macha, I have sent a song via Whatsapp. Take a listen da.” he said. I quickly downloaded it in my mobile and played it. It was the song ” Bhaiya mere, rakhi ke bandhan ko nibhana”. As soon as it played, ‘SEND’ began laughing uncontrollably and I could not control my anger anymore.
And before I knew, I had hit ‘SEND’.
This is a fictional story narrated by a fictional character. Any resemblance to any one living or dead is purely coincidental and not my problem.