18 March, 2010

Dadigiri or Park Parody VI

I was on one of my post office errands. Cutting across the park, I enjoyed the silence and the flowers. Phlox in pinks and purples. Sweet Williams, ruby red - a flower I could never come to like. Nasturtiums, their eager orange heads bobbing through the slim-stalked leaves. Hollyhock looking like gawky teenagers who are suddenly unsure of what to do with their height. Even the yellow neem leaves strewn across the path seemed to dance around. The freshly cut grass smelt the way it should. Things were moving, at the unhurried pace of a groggy morning.

There were adolescent boys playing badminton in the street. Fluorescent racquets. A pitiable shuttle cock. A lot of swearing. Two teams. Puppy fat waiting to be lost. Heavier voices waiting to be broken into. Each team threatened the other into submission. Nasty hits were met with nastier ones. The imaginary boundaries were negotiated at each point. Services kept. Services lost. A car came but was made to take a U-turn and find another route. The swearing continued in a jovial that's-the-way-we-communicate-yaar way. A lot of testing of The Testosterone if you may. 

Suddenly I heard a shrill bell. It was a girl on a cycle. No more than eight years old. She had pigtails with blinding blue ribbons. A tracksuit the colour of the DTC low-floor green buses. Parrot green. A determined frown on her face. Her cycle had a basket in front with a sipper (!) and biscuits (!!). Hearing, the bell, a strange calm fell over the boys. 

"Bhaaago yaar. Aaa gayi humara shuttle cheen ne. Yaar ye kabhi khelne nahin deti. Chudail." 

I never realized so much could be done in a second! The boys disappeared, net, shuttle and racquets in hand. By the time pigtails reached the spot, she had the street to herself. She stopped at the place where the boys had been playing. She purposefully rang her bell twice and sure of no tresspassers on her turf, she steadied herself. She looked around once more and then raced an invisible friend to the end of the street.

12 comments:

  1. very ruskin bondish.... :)

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  2. Marvin9:40 am

    that's a compliment and she does not like them.

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  3. Marvin9:41 am

    Hollyhock looking like gawky teenagers who are suddenly unsure of what to do with their height.

    I liked the metaphor. But when did you ever go through this phase eh? Being 'honest' are we?

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  4. did Prof. Dumbledore take you back into one of your memories (you being the pigtail of course)

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  5. Nive: thanks :)

    Marvin: I was NOT a gawky teenager (of course) but then I am sure you'd be able to enlighten me on that front.

    ps: yes she does not like them :)

    Cartoon: Ha ha I did not bully boys when I was a kid. That happened when I grew up.

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  6. hehe...i know.. but i am going to compliment her anyway...

    and chandni of course you can't be one of those gawky teenagers...."unsure of what to do with their height" wouldn't really apply, would it? ;)

    *wore the silver chappals yesterday... couldn't help but laugh....

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  7. Marvin6:23 pm

    yeah right, you were the portrait of grace, finesse, and elegance. while i was the antithesis. and NOW when you're gawky, i am the epitome of suavity. lives juxtaposed diagonally after all.

    and yes, you did not bully them. you lived in fear of being slapped by them. but that did not stop you from anything.

    word verification: cabach. the word could be the takia kalam of some villain. "everytime he butchered an innocent victim, he would cry out in ecstasy - cabach! cabach! cabach!"

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  8. ha ha nive don't remind me about the silver chappals. aditi owes me BIGtime.

    marvin, your imagination is running in overdrive.

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  9. Anonymous8:59 am

    happy birthday chaddi

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  10. Thanks so much!! i'm sure it's cpc (yaar don't air embarassing names here. Facebook is bad enough!)

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  11. Anonymous9:33 am

    haha chaddi what kinda name is that?!!

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  12. I like the frivolity of my comments. Why can't I be frivolous?

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