Posted by: oys_chill January 27, 2008
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“Pele ko penalty ahile samma kasle rokeko cha thaha cha?” Kale had completely recovered from his earlier distress.
“Kasle?” I replied returning his mediocre check service. “Pele ko penalty ni kasaile rokna sakcha ra kale?” Fiste responded keeping the count of our game.
“Hyaa fiste! Pele ko bhai thiyo ni!” I overhit his return at this and our game stopped. “Pele ko bhai le Pele ko penalty ekchoti rokya thiyo”
“Hyaa guffadi! Pele ko bhai re aba?” I inquired.
“Napatyaye naptya na ta. Pele ko bhai le Pele ko penalty rokda, ball le chati ma lagera tyahi mareko thiyo kya! “ Fiste and I had heard many stories about Pele from Kale but non as fascinating as that. Whether he made it up or not, it was accepted by default from that day onwards that Pele did have his penalty blocked by his brother at the cost of his death, and that was that!
We were only about to finish the game, when Daare and Laloo came back with three brand new “Chinese Itta”each . “Nakkali ko ghar banai ra raicha, truck batai lyayeko!” Both were proud of their achievements. It was the first time we had Chinese bricks for nets. As we were replacing, Debre hemante and Kaichi made their way to the board. When Laloo exclaimed about his bravado, it brought displeasure to Debre Hemante’s face. “hyaa khatte! Khub garis. La herr ma dekhauchu timi haroo lai.”
We suspended our table tennis game. As we watched by the tree, We saw Debre Hemante run at full speed towards a vendor carrying a tray of “Bombay Laddu on his head. Without him noticing, he jumped up mightily, grabbed a laddu, ran on for a moment, U-turned with a prize in his hand smiling at us. The ease with which he pulled the stunt scared me. We all ran behind Bhagwati Temple. As a good gangmember, he shared the laddu with us but also making sure that he still had more than half of it.
“Aba Fiste, Oys ra Kaichi le ni kehi garnu parcha!” Debre Hemante began to dictate the norms of our newly formed gang. Kaichi shook his head munching on the Laddu and revealed a belt carefully from the inside of his faded BMW jacket. It was a worn out belt but had pointed nails laden all over it. I didn’t know where he got it from, but it looked potent. “Aba kasaile haat matra halos na, maile janya chu” He looked at Kale sympathetically. However, seeing the strange weapon, I felt uneasy. It didn’t bode well, and I could feel that the sweetness of Bombay laddu turn bitter in my mouth.
**********************
By late afternoon, we had argued every possible scenario where we could use Kaichi’s nail-ridden belt. Finally, by unanimous verdict we decided to test it on the road. Though Handigaon dirt road didn’t get a horde of vehicles, we occasionally got taxis and tempos that came to gahana pokhari for cleaning
“Oiee fuche haroo! K garna la timi haroo huh?” Pawan dai inquired from the terrace of the Tri-shakti club following our restless movement all afternoon. Debre Hemante and Kale were on the terrace with him explaining our test of the weapon. Laloo was on the other side of the road signaling any vehicles that could potentially swing by. Somehow, Fiste and I could only lean by the peepal tree and watch the spectacle. Finally, Kaichi making sure that no one was watching him on the street, spread the booby trap right on the middle of the dirt road and camouflaged with some grass and sand and scurried back to the Bhagwati temple.
Within seconds of laying out the trap, a three wheeled, black tempo whizzed past our territory. No sooner had the tempo made it past the belt, it screeched to a halt with a loud thud on one of its hind tires. Bravo! The belt had indeed done its job. Unexpectedly, the fuming driver got out and realized instantly that he had been set up and looked around for the culprits as we all tried to duck for cover. It was too late. Fiste and I were in the open by the tree. He instantly spotted us and began to charge at us like a drunken bull. Seized by fright, Fiste and I jumped over the fence behind the table tennis board, into Dinesh Dai’s Bari. We ran through the neatly lined rows of cauliflowers and saag, to the edge of the adjoining vast backfield of Sardarji’s compound that ended on the boundary of maligaon and back alley to our homes. We looked back and noticed the driver was still fuming coming after us “oiee rokk fuche haroo! Aja timi haroo lai janya chu, gadha haroo!”
Fiste was much faster than me and easily outraced me till he reached about the middle of the Sardarji’s backfield and stopped unexpectedly. “oiee fiste, kina rokya……..tempo driver ajhai aai racha” Panting heavily..he motioned me to stop talking “Sun sun, sunis?” To my horror, I heard the distinct barking of the dog. We looked to the side of the Sardarji’s house, and Rocky, their ferocious, Alsation, had sniffed the trespassers and was coming to us at full speed.
“laa! Marne bhaiyoo..bhag oys bhag!” Fiste shouted and took off in a flash, with me right at his heels. The barking got louder and louder and I knew the dog, which I had always presumed to be a brother of a wild wolf, would soon rip me to pieces. We had reached almost the edge of Handigaon/Maligaon boundary when I heard the barking slow down. I saw Fiste reach the wall of his house and was throwing rocks to distract Rocky. Fiste saved my life! I climbed the wall of one of my neighbors, and reached the small gulli and leaned by Shivani’s house door to catch a breath when I heard a sharp laughter coming from above.
To my embarrassment, I noticed Shivani , still in her black vibrant kurtha surwal , laughing at me. As soon as she noticed me looking at her, she bent down as if to pretend not seeing me. What I realized few seconds later was that she had only bent down to hold her stomach as she could no longer bear the pain of seeing my entire fiasco with the dog. I sighed and stood there for a while, as she furtively stole a glance at me, and I couldn’t help notice her black Bindi and her almond eyes barely hidden behind her resplendent hair. I knew then the forming of a gang was a pretty lame idea. I knew what I always wanted to become as I limped towards my home behind the discontinuous , pungent laughter from an angel.
*************************************
(PS: Today, the ruin of TT board is overshadowed with moss, weed, and bushes after years of neglect. The rumor has it that, Bobby dai, in one of his drug fueled Shivaratri moods, mistook our beloved table tennis concrete board for wood. The prominent Sardarji died a few years ago and so did their business, prompting all of their family to return to India. The four TATA buses are gone too, and so is Rocky. The new owner of the house is supposed to have a royal aura about them. Hence, the amicable gatekeeper has been replaced with a military personnel, who stands with his semi- automatic rifle pointing at every passing pedestrian. They have encroached the vicinity by putting speed breakers up to half the width of the narrow street. Furthermore, the little grill and the carpentry shops owned by the locals that lined the opposite side of the street have been forced to shut off as the noise they generated distracted the afternoon beauty sleep of the concerned parties. Bhagwati Than temple has been robbed of nearly all of its outside statues. Nobody saw or heard a thing even when each statue was carefully dug out with metal ores. Despite all that, one thing has remained perennial : there are lot more Romeos on the terrace of Tri-Shakti club. Romeos who can strum their guitar well. Instead of just O’ Mona, they also sing lot more songs of fun-filled bygone days.)
“Kasle?” I replied returning his mediocre check service. “Pele ko penalty ni kasaile rokna sakcha ra kale?” Fiste responded keeping the count of our game.
“Hyaa fiste! Pele ko bhai thiyo ni!” I overhit his return at this and our game stopped. “Pele ko bhai le Pele ko penalty ekchoti rokya thiyo”
“Hyaa guffadi! Pele ko bhai re aba?” I inquired.
“Napatyaye naptya na ta. Pele ko bhai le Pele ko penalty rokda, ball le chati ma lagera tyahi mareko thiyo kya! “ Fiste and I had heard many stories about Pele from Kale but non as fascinating as that. Whether he made it up or not, it was accepted by default from that day onwards that Pele did have his penalty blocked by his brother at the cost of his death, and that was that!
We were only about to finish the game, when Daare and Laloo came back with three brand new “Chinese Itta”each . “Nakkali ko ghar banai ra raicha, truck batai lyayeko!” Both were proud of their achievements. It was the first time we had Chinese bricks for nets. As we were replacing, Debre hemante and Kaichi made their way to the board. When Laloo exclaimed about his bravado, it brought displeasure to Debre Hemante’s face. “hyaa khatte! Khub garis. La herr ma dekhauchu timi haroo lai.”
We suspended our table tennis game. As we watched by the tree, We saw Debre Hemante run at full speed towards a vendor carrying a tray of “Bombay Laddu on his head. Without him noticing, he jumped up mightily, grabbed a laddu, ran on for a moment, U-turned with a prize in his hand smiling at us. The ease with which he pulled the stunt scared me. We all ran behind Bhagwati Temple. As a good gangmember, he shared the laddu with us but also making sure that he still had more than half of it.
“Aba Fiste, Oys ra Kaichi le ni kehi garnu parcha!” Debre Hemante began to dictate the norms of our newly formed gang. Kaichi shook his head munching on the Laddu and revealed a belt carefully from the inside of his faded BMW jacket. It was a worn out belt but had pointed nails laden all over it. I didn’t know where he got it from, but it looked potent. “Aba kasaile haat matra halos na, maile janya chu” He looked at Kale sympathetically. However, seeing the strange weapon, I felt uneasy. It didn’t bode well, and I could feel that the sweetness of Bombay laddu turn bitter in my mouth.
**********************
By late afternoon, we had argued every possible scenario where we could use Kaichi’s nail-ridden belt. Finally, by unanimous verdict we decided to test it on the road. Though Handigaon dirt road didn’t get a horde of vehicles, we occasionally got taxis and tempos that came to gahana pokhari for cleaning
“Oiee fuche haroo! K garna la timi haroo huh?” Pawan dai inquired from the terrace of the Tri-shakti club following our restless movement all afternoon. Debre Hemante and Kale were on the terrace with him explaining our test of the weapon. Laloo was on the other side of the road signaling any vehicles that could potentially swing by. Somehow, Fiste and I could only lean by the peepal tree and watch the spectacle. Finally, Kaichi making sure that no one was watching him on the street, spread the booby trap right on the middle of the dirt road and camouflaged with some grass and sand and scurried back to the Bhagwati temple.
Within seconds of laying out the trap, a three wheeled, black tempo whizzed past our territory. No sooner had the tempo made it past the belt, it screeched to a halt with a loud thud on one of its hind tires. Bravo! The belt had indeed done its job. Unexpectedly, the fuming driver got out and realized instantly that he had been set up and looked around for the culprits as we all tried to duck for cover. It was too late. Fiste and I were in the open by the tree. He instantly spotted us and began to charge at us like a drunken bull. Seized by fright, Fiste and I jumped over the fence behind the table tennis board, into Dinesh Dai’s Bari. We ran through the neatly lined rows of cauliflowers and saag, to the edge of the adjoining vast backfield of Sardarji’s compound that ended on the boundary of maligaon and back alley to our homes. We looked back and noticed the driver was still fuming coming after us “oiee rokk fuche haroo! Aja timi haroo lai janya chu, gadha haroo!”
Fiste was much faster than me and easily outraced me till he reached about the middle of the Sardarji’s backfield and stopped unexpectedly. “oiee fiste, kina rokya……..tempo driver ajhai aai racha” Panting heavily..he motioned me to stop talking “Sun sun, sunis?” To my horror, I heard the distinct barking of the dog. We looked to the side of the Sardarji’s house, and Rocky, their ferocious, Alsation, had sniffed the trespassers and was coming to us at full speed.
“laa! Marne bhaiyoo..bhag oys bhag!” Fiste shouted and took off in a flash, with me right at his heels. The barking got louder and louder and I knew the dog, which I had always presumed to be a brother of a wild wolf, would soon rip me to pieces. We had reached almost the edge of Handigaon/Maligaon boundary when I heard the barking slow down. I saw Fiste reach the wall of his house and was throwing rocks to distract Rocky. Fiste saved my life! I climbed the wall of one of my neighbors, and reached the small gulli and leaned by Shivani’s house door to catch a breath when I heard a sharp laughter coming from above.
To my embarrassment, I noticed Shivani , still in her black vibrant kurtha surwal , laughing at me. As soon as she noticed me looking at her, she bent down as if to pretend not seeing me. What I realized few seconds later was that she had only bent down to hold her stomach as she could no longer bear the pain of seeing my entire fiasco with the dog. I sighed and stood there for a while, as she furtively stole a glance at me, and I couldn’t help notice her black Bindi and her almond eyes barely hidden behind her resplendent hair. I knew then the forming of a gang was a pretty lame idea. I knew what I always wanted to become as I limped towards my home behind the discontinuous , pungent laughter from an angel.
*************************************
(PS: Today, the ruin of TT board is overshadowed with moss, weed, and bushes after years of neglect. The rumor has it that, Bobby dai, in one of his drug fueled Shivaratri moods, mistook our beloved table tennis concrete board for wood. The prominent Sardarji died a few years ago and so did their business, prompting all of their family to return to India. The four TATA buses are gone too, and so is Rocky. The new owner of the house is supposed to have a royal aura about them. Hence, the amicable gatekeeper has been replaced with a military personnel, who stands with his semi- automatic rifle pointing at every passing pedestrian. They have encroached the vicinity by putting speed breakers up to half the width of the narrow street. Furthermore, the little grill and the carpentry shops owned by the locals that lined the opposite side of the street have been forced to shut off as the noise they generated distracted the afternoon beauty sleep of the concerned parties. Bhagwati Than temple has been robbed of nearly all of its outside statues. Nobody saw or heard a thing even when each statue was carefully dug out with metal ores. Despite all that, one thing has remained perennial : there are lot more Romeos on the terrace of Tri-Shakti club. Romeos who can strum their guitar well. Instead of just O’ Mona, they also sing lot more songs of fun-filled bygone days.)