Monday, January 31, 2011


When life gets uneventful and the days go slowly , there is often a need to liven matters up. This can be done in several ways , but the way of two good friends of mine ( one, an upright and dignified gentleman named C ; the other , a small, but gaunt and severe lady named N) is to be examined on this occasion.
C is rather a unique character.. He rides a bike at 7 pm daily around the streets of Bandra. However, he is extremely devious and outsmarts those who try to identify him, by changing his bike daily. This simple ploy has thrown me off guard on many occasions ; when yesterday,  a hooded figure stopped by me , and spoke my name in a  manner that was nothing short of chilling, I confess I wanted nothing better than to run from that place screaming for help. When the hood was taken of and  the dignity of C confronted me, I was relieved and almost dared to feel like throwing a good punch. However , he calmed me down , told me mollifying-ly that it was a new bike , and would I like a ride? 'No' said I. ' It's a new bike!' he insisted.
How the argument panned out is for another time, however. I digress.
N, boasts of somewhat different eccentricities. She is a teacher of rare gift, but uses her imposing manner and intimidating facial expressions to terrify her pupils into meek submission . The other day, a pupil was made to blow Bandra Fair bubbles for five minutes as a punishment because she did not do her homework. It scarred her forever of course and there are rumours that she still has terrifying visions of N bearing down upon her, majestically waving the box filled full of the liquid in one hand and the plastic ring in the other.
Of course, when these two get together in the rare atmosphere of higher altitudes, amply aided by a bottle of Immaculately Brewed Whiskey , the aforesaid livening up of life takes place. While N is highly intimidating, C decided that she sorely lacked the ability to hold her own in a physical confrontation. I , politely , beg to differ with Mr C, having been at the receiving end of a particularly nasty twisting of the fingers. But C must have his way; very soon he was coaching her in the art of punching.
To cut a long story short, C , realising that he did not enjoy the punches as much as he thought he would, decided, on a sudden inspiration from the memory of the remains of his fourteenth vintage bike, to divert them to the wall.
Pliable as she is when under the influence, with a roar of rage, N charged at the wall, fist raised . Reached there, she sank her fist into it as hard as possible.

For the last few days , N's punishments have been less severe. The cast, plaster and other such irritants have rendered her unable to do her bubble bottle waving act. However, it is to resume soon, and I have excellent knowledge that the first victim is to be none other than C.

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