Good for the Nation

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A group of urchins had come up with a bomb hoax at the oration of the stupid politician.They executed the plan to perfection. The terror-stricken crowd ran out of the auditorium as the vote-monger politician, unaware that he is the only one left, carried out the discourse verbatim. Nature shook the building with an earth quake and took it down. A stupid politician gone and the lives of thousands of people, eagerly waiting outside for the bomb squad to arrive, saved. The bomb hoax turned out to be a blessing in disguise for the Nation in more ways than one.

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This post is written in response to the prompt “A blessing in disguise” by Shilpa Garg who blogs at  ‘A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose‘ on Hundred Words on Saturday – Write Tribe.

Mistaken to be mature.


I’d do things differently Mohan Chacha” he remarked. His mother, eavesdropping hitherto, burst into the room and launched a diatribe. “Don’t dare to swerve from the family path. Our family has worked hard to amass this wealth for generations. You are the next flag bearer. Don’t give that immature, vacuous and cheap brain of yours any work and just follow my directions. Learn from Mohan Chacha you pea-brained rascal.”

Rahul, taken aback by the sudden tirade, began weeping. Mohan Chacha, comforting Rahul, opened his mouth. “Madamji, we were playing Angry Birds. I secured two stars. He said he’d do it differently.”

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Posted for the prompt “I’d do things differently” at Write Tribe.

Right people for the Job.

Political Party ad:

      Anyone** above 25 years can apply.

Posts: Future MLAs, MPs, Presidents, Spokepersons.

** Conditions apply

  • rowdies, criminals, underworld members. (attach reference letter)
  • unscrupulously educated (essay on “Not more than one vegetable a day”)
  • Scam oriented (essay on “Scam and render it a sham”)
  • defamed actors (email videos/photos)
  • common man need not apply. 

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This post is written in response to the prompt “Conditions Apply” for 55 on Friday at Write Tribe.

When tension is your co-traveller.

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My first flight travel. At the queue, Had I looked back and noticed my tormentor friend, I would have cancelled my ticket. God decided to have fun and placed him next to me.

” Wow, Dude. If this plane crashes we will die together”.

Me:(perplexed).

“Two looked terrorists. They might attack anytime” he whispered.

Me: (scared).

During take off,

” I heard noise. I think tyre puncture. We can’t land.”

Me: (shitting bricks).

” If another plane is landing and both collide, it will be fun”.

Me: (Bricks got denser).

” 16 hours of your company, if terrorists don’t attack.”

Me: HAD I LOOKED BACK

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This post is written in response to the prompt “Had I looked back” ; courtesy Nischala Murthy who blogs at Verve for the 100 Words on Saturday at Write Tribe.

 

The ASSassination.

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This is my first attempt at a trifecta-weekly-challenge.
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The entire class had been for an outing. Once we enjoyed bathing in the river, my friend, a stupid ass that he was, by mistake sat on a red ant-hill only with his underwear on. The ants made sure that the stupid ass had his ass assassinated.
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IPL – Indian Political League

5-4-3-2-1, the crowd chanted the countdown as the special IPL, 5 – 5 over a side, match began.  Why 5 – 5 over a side? Well that is the term of the winning party in elections. The venue was the FEROZ SHAH KOTLA stadium in Delhi. The two contesting parties had decided to compete in this match since the election had ended in a stalemate. “The winner of the match will rule the nation for the next 5 years”, the president of the nation had announced. The elation in the election commission knew no bounds since going through one more round of elections was a pain in the ass. What more?, the President had also agreed to function as one of the umpires in the match since he too was bored doing nothing for a long time.  The other umpire was RAUF, an unanimous decision by both the parties. His credentials as an umpire was unquestionable since he had a court order on his side stating that no one should question him in the public until the ongoing case against him is solved. Also the sponsors felt the he would provide some entertainment in the field by mingling with the cheer girls, and area in which he had a lot of expertise.

The Bhar –  Atheeya party (know so since there were heavy, mighty stalwarts in the team) had chosen Sree – santh ( A baba in Kerala) as their lead coach. The team owner Advanee , sporting a laodicean attitude and a plastic smile, sat on one side of the dugout. He was no longer the playing captain of the team. Atalji, the confidence builder of the team was ready with his inspirational kavitha; but no one took a listen to it since it would take exactly three hours for him to read out the four lined ode. Crestfallen and confidence shaken, he too sat next to Advanee.  The official spoke person of the team Mr Rajnath, tired of explaining to the media as to why Advanee was not in the “Game”, collapsed onto the sofa in the dugout.  Inside, in the change-room, Captain Modee was ready to deliver his pep talk to the team.

” Mitro, we can do it. Today we are wearing a thin silk T-shirt so that our vests are visible inside. Why? Because we believe in transparency.  Although I am not good at batting or bowling, I promise you that I will lead the team well, i.e., I will give a good governance. We are the “Kai Po Che” boys.” The entire team cheered in unison and began dressing up for the game. Sushma and Smriti were ready to be the cheer girls for their team. They were wonderfully attired in dark saffron saris.

The Con – Grass party had chosen Allesandro Del Piero as their head coach. ” We believe in following foreign leaders, and especially we would love to follow any one Italian, even if he/she does not know how to play the ‘game’ ” was Chidu’s press statement on the issue. The team owner Sonia, also the main cheer leader, flanked by Sheila, Priyanka and especially Tiwari were looking immaculate in their pristine  gowns. In the dressing room Rahul was ready to deliver his rallying cry.

” India is an idea. India is a mission. India is……., Oh shit! this is the missing page of the speech I delivered at CII. Sorry guys. Here it goes. Ahhh…. Oh God…, not again. I have lost my speech. Okay, I will do it extempore. Guys lets play fair.” The entire team looked shocked and clueless since they had never done such a thing in their life. ” I was joking. Mom has already fixed the match in our favour.” There was a loud applause and the team members began their preparations for the match.

The stadium was jam packed.

Earlier in the Stands:

A sobbing Yeddy had complained to the manager of the stadium against Dev. It seems Dev had usurped one of the VIP seats next to his hoping his son Kumar will join him. Yeddy wanted that seat badly. Manager referred it to Rajnath and god knows what transpired later.

Raja and Mozhi had set up a small kiosk and were selling 2G and 3G sims to the customers. The had named their kiosk “Spectrum”. “They are overcharging this time”, one of the customers had remarked to the quizzing media.

Vijay sitting in the cashier- compartment turned cockpit, true to his taste, had planted his Airbus right in the lobby. “Now that they are not flying, I better use them for something at least” he said while answering inquisitive customers. He was selling mineral water. Siddharth and Deepika were assisting him as attenders. As usual beer was sold at the back door.

Jaya, a VIP pass holder, was angry that the water bottle that she had requested for had not yet been supplied to her. Somehow Jaya and water never go hand in hand.

Mohan, motionless, was standing next to Sonia. Priyanka ran towards Sonia and flaunted her new Barbie. Sonia, pointing towards Mohan, retorted ” I have Mohan”. “I beat you Mom” said Priyanka, ” My doll can speak.”

Lulloo, given the job of a ball boy, had made a good fortune by cutting the grass on the out-field and selling it to milk vendors outside the stadium.

Sonia and Shiela had requested Shak-thi Cupoor, another VIP pass holder, to drop them home in his car after the match. ” Delhi is not a safe place now. Two women travelling alone at night is not recommended. We know we will be safe in you company” they had pleaded him. Shak-thi had agreed with a devilish smile.

Maya was waiting with a garland of 500 rupee notes worth 1000 crore while Mamta was waiting with rasagulla to greet the winner and pledge their alliance.

Now coming back to the present:

The two teams walked towards the centre of the pitch. As soon as Modee and Rahul stepped onto the grass the rain god decided to have some fun of his own. It rained like cats and dogs and the entire ground was lodged with water in no time. The entire event turned out to be a spoof of Lagaan. A hysterical Rahul wept like a small baby while Modee couldn’t believe his luck. It was nature’s way of saying that both the parties did not deserve a chance at the centre.

Why did I hit ‘SEND’?

 

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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’.

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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.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.