Dimag ki batti jala de...

It’s a bright day and Mr. Jayaram Kishan is very excited about the concert of Pundit Shiv Kumar Prasad, a far-famed classical Indian music singer.

He wears his most expensive kurta crafted by hand with rich decorations in Kashmir and matching shoes which he bought during his visit to Kolkata. These he had reserved for special occasions and high class parties. Being a renowned writer in Hindi, he has immense interest in the classical music. Even his snobbish behaviour does not stop people respecting him for his honourable works.

As he enters the hall holding his entry ticket in the hand after passing through several electronic barriers put up by the security (thanks to various bomb blasts sponsored by Terrorists Co.) he sees that the programme has already started. Just as he is searching for his seat, a young man enters wearing squeaky shoes. The man, who is the only one wearing a blue striped t-shirt and a matching jeans, appears not to be interested in the concert.

The sound of his shoes is so vexing that the maestro feels disdained and leaves. The audience in turn starts cussing the innocent perpetrator. Mr. Kishan, in a bemused state, is enjoying the situation as much he is sorry for missing the show.

The young man, Shyamal Mathur, a computer engineer, was forced by his wife to watch the show. He is cornered from all sides when Namrata also joins forces with the assailants. He only wishes that he had not agreed with her and had instead stayed home and surfed on the internet, maybe even written a blog.

Now let’s look at the entire situation from a different angle. Shyamal acts foxily and matches his footsteps with those of Mr. Kishan’s. The blame is laid on the perplexed soul. Mr. Kishan only wonders why he is marked by the Satan. Why is the day he has been waiting for a long time being ruined in this fashion? Why is the day he wanted utmost peace (considering the fact that he wanted to attend the classical music show) chosen to bring chaos in his life? It took only a fraction of second and he did not get any time to run out of it. The public loses all its respect for the virtuoso writer and refers to him as “Kurta”.

Shyamal, on the other hand, is enjoying each and every moment of this muddle he has created for the poor author. He is on a different heaven altogether. He has achieved something big, something important, his honour.

Namrata, who is feeling very proud of her husband who has acted so knavishly, seems to be very happy and satisfied. The lady realises that she has married the right man, the man who is suited to survive in the modern world, a world where the rules of survival of the fittest apply. The man is a cunning cat, a mischief maestro, an honourable hero.

I guess that is enough batti for your mind. Watch out for more!