Mum is the word

Some times we play a prank and the world gets back at us in a strange and unexpected fashion. Of course it confuses us for a little while.

My god what has just happened? It is beyond belief!

We stare vacantly at the space for minutes on end. After some time with this deeply penetrative practice we have to shake our head and say “What the hell” and gird up our loins again and go on with our little fights with the world.
That is how we achieve equilibrium.

Strong word, this equilibrium. There are others too, equipoise is my favorite. If you are lucky you get to spell wonders like equanimity, equidistant, equity, equivocal, equilateral, equestrian and of course equinox.

Don’t ask if I know the meaning of the words. I am not in that kind of mood. I have suddenly become deeply philosophical. If you do not watch out, this is what happens. You become philosophical, and of course then you are a goner.

So let us get back to our mundane existence. I had used this word ‘mundane’ in my very first post. But as luck would have it, no one read it and the word escaped public notice. Now when I am again trying to ‘appropriate’ it-

(As in appropriation and misappropriation and not as in suitable, fitting, apt, proper, right, correct etc. you see, after that “cruelty” incident I am scrupulous about these things.)

-for the present post I see it quivering with fear and apprehension. Poor word, I can’t console it. I am presently trying to reason with it.

“My dear ‘mundane’ “

(I don’t know the meaning of the word as usual; it has some contrived relationship with Sinadin Sidane I think. Very brainy guy Sidane, uses his head a lot. The Italians would certainly bear witness to it.)

“If I had any other option, would I have done this to you?”

It still seems downcast. By ‘it’ I mean the word of course and nothing else I can’t blame it.

Words are daily raped by people like me in public. They need pristine lips to issue from. We are the aboriginals of the literary world, especially when it comes to the descendants of the author of the “Rape of the Locke”

It was Tutankhamen was it? Brilliant man! Or was it a woman?

Anyway he/she has written some delectable essays on lamb chops. “The Essays of Elea”.

It’s a must read, it’s an in depth deductive analysis of the induction of modern technological (ecumenical) inventions into the gory realm of a slaughter house.

(I am tired after writing the sentence. Let me catch my breath, it is elsewhere at the moment.)

Anyway as is my style, I am about to go in another direction altogether. The good thing is you can’t do a bloody thing about it.

I was talking about pranks wasn’t I? Well Frank, here we go.

This is a period bit. You know what a period bit is, don’t you? It is a story set in the future.

A quarter of a century back (I am thinking from the future now as the more discerning among you would notice.), all was well with the world and I was at Farookh collage.

I was staying in good Breeze (It’s not a physical condition; it’s a lodge near the campus).

One staunch atheist had gone out for the night (don’t think it is me) and we decide to play a practical joke on him.

It was a moon lit night. The alley passing by the side of our lodge opens in to the compound near an old tree. The tree has a history. There were rumors that it was the abode (what a word) of a ghost. None of us had seen it. None believed it too.

We decided to become ghosts (As if you were anything else ever!).

Ghosts always follow the all white dress code. We did not have the full length white robes; the next seminary being some distance away, and the would be ‘fathers’ not very philanthropic. So we had to make do with our dhotis.

Have you seen an Indian dhoti? If it is a ‘double’ one it would have a length of some four or five meters. You can unfold it and wrap it around your body and it would cover you fully.

We wrapped it around ourselves and positioned ourselves on the lover sections of the tree. There were four of us. It was a long wait and we were brutally attacked by every insect in the tree.

At last our prey became visible and as we expected he was alone. It was past midnight and there was a slight chill in the air.

The moment he reached below us we all jumped silently on to the ground and began a slow and weird dance around him. The poor guy immediately fell down unconscious. We were overjoyed with our success and were continuing our dance with glee.

As I said earlier, there were only four of us. Then curiously another thing silently descended from the tree and began to dance with us.

Being the bravest of the lot I only woke up the next morning with a chill and a splitting head ache on the veranda of the lodge were our other lodgers had placed us.

None of us know who that fifth person was, till date (recently I have an idea about it. But mum is the word!).

According to those who found us, we all, including the atheist friend, were lying on the ground completely senseless.

Well it seems that some did think we had some sense before that. That was some consolation!