Friday, April 20, 2007

Man in the mirror

The other day I chanced upon a man. The incident was so bizarre that I still could not brush it off from my memory. After some shopping I was returning home. It was almost half past eleven in the morning and the sun was about to start frying everything down here (including the little something that I still have under my scalp). I got a tremendous urge to place myself in a cool corner of my room without losing a second. As I was about to kick-start my bike I saw a man coming frantically towards me waving his hand as if he recognized me to be his old pal. I was blank. Could not figure out such a profile to be any of my known ones. His clothing showing some different signals though, his face (two of his extremely yellowish teeth lost their places) with hairs almost stood vertical on his head was beaming with a frightful happiness. Before I could utter a sound he exploded, “Got married at last! What else to do? They (probably family members) forced me. Couldn’t escape this time. Believe me, I had requested them with folded hands. But...........”

I was in a limbo. I asked vaguely, “Aren’t you enjoying the story?”

“What story?” he groaned, “It’s soap without any recess! It all started with a mellow family drama giving me a feeling that the world is a chocolate factory. But of late I’ve discovered who the worker is. See this?” He raised his shirt to show some wound marks on his left arm.

“How many times you have been vaccinated?” I astonished.

“Vaccination my foot! I got plenty of this all over,” He gasped, “She termed it ‘ broom-treatment’.”

“Why are you waiting for then? Leave her now?” exhaustedly I enquired.

“Have I told you that I want to leave her? Those are the wounds of love.” he grinned.

I couldn’t understand what he was—a nut? a philosopher? or what? I started my bike and quipped, “O.K. Go to a medical store now, get a tetvac and buy a bottle of insecticide. Then tell your wife to soak the broom with that every time she’ll use it on you.”

I throttled the bike to its utmost to leave the scene as if there’ll be no tomorrow.

Have I rediscovered myself?