Wednesday, April 05, 2006

It was a calm and bright morning (contd. 3)

He comes to inside a dark club where the bassline's bursting with hiphop beats and black rappers rapping extempore, "Hey everybody come to 313!"

There was no one familiar around. All black guys and a couple of white guys shaking their hands and heads as fast as they could trying to catch up with some insane beat that was irritating him. He ran out where the drinks were being distributed.

"Hey Amigo Fedoro!"

That voice sounded familiar. He turned around to see Cavez waiting with two glasses of beer, "Beer taste so much good than Tequila! I love America!"

"How are you here? I was wacked?"

"I don't know Amigo!"

"Were you wacked too?"

"No Amigo but I fainted when you were whacked!"

"Cavez you need a shave! Your bristled ugly moustache will get us in to some trouble here with the law."

"You mean?"

"I mean, look at your dirty mexican self. Dump that sombrero. Dump the hair on your body. Look around and find a good camouflage. You'll be kicked out for being illegal here."

"Blah!" Cavez guzzled down both the glasses of beer. The walked out from there.

"But how and why did you come here?"

"I came in the same DHL box with you and with this brochure in my pocket with your name written on it."


They walk towards something but they don't know what it is. Hence they keep walking.

"Cavez, we need to get you some clothes."

"I am wearing clothes."

"I mean some real clothes."

"You mean like an overcoat and a fedora like yours?"

"Yea. I love this dress. We could look like twins and may be then people won't suspect us."

He picked up a stone and hurled it randomly at all those closed shops. One of the glass panes burst open. Both of them entered the store. It had clothes! Wow, what luck! So they started hunting for the fedora and overcoat. Soon they find both of them. While Cavez was changing, our man finds a razor and shaves his facial hair off. It was ages since he shaved and it had begun to itch.

Soon Cavez came there and our man forced the razor on his face. Cavez got scared and said he will shave and come. Soon Cavez shaved his full head and came there. Out of fear what he'd done had eventually left not a strand of hair on his face and red mexican skin all over. But it wasn't that which left our man dumb founded.

In sheer joy and shock he turned to Cavez and said, "Shave my head."


"Shave it!"


With complete pleasure and vengeance Cavez shaved our man's head off. There was written in a triangle - 333. Then our man said, "Cavez go check your head in the mirror." There was just another such tattoo on Cavez's head too! It said the same thing, '333'.

This scared the shit out of Cavez, "How can I be a semi-demon? I don't mind being a demi-god BUT a SEMI-DEMON?!"

"You fuckhead! Don't you see the obviousness?!"

"Which one?"

"We're together for a purpose! For the destruction of the world. Hence we've been travelling all over the world. I've been at least trying to look for you with those wacks. You were out on your way too but then since I was closer God called you back to your house and not in Columbia. Now you know why you survived?"

"Oh my God!"


"Oops! Oh my devil!"

"Yeah that's the right spirit!"

Soon enough they were sitting on the chairs at the shop like they were the evil tyrannical rules of the world. Atleast they thought they soon would be. Suddenly a bunch of homies walk in to the shop, "What you mofos doin' in here? Want something up your ass dawg?! This is our zone! We steal and breaka shops around here!"

"Oh ok!"

"We're both half-devils each and you're banned from the hell," said our man.

The group started laughing. It was quite obvious they didn't give a double fuck. Then one started rapping as the other pulled a gun out, "You fucking bitches are at detroit! Two bald mexicans are shivering in fright! Look I got a fucking gun and I fucking ruined their fun! They got no fucking names and I'm about to ruin their little game!"

"I'm not mexican. I'm Indian."

"Who cares?"

"I do."


When Cavez and our man came to this time around - they were sitting inside a small room. It had a lot of mirrors. It was a room that could be called 3' x 3'. Here they were two bald men with overcoats and fedoras nearly hugging each other and standing inside a freaking small room, smaller than a toilet!

A voice from outside screamed, "Dawg, these bitches seemed to have woken up. What do I do?"

A distant voice: "Get them outta the fucking dressing room!"


The man opened the door, let out these two men and asked them, "How the fuck did you pain?"

Meanwhile Cavez had already started drawing inside that anime brochure. He drew a hand moving towards their tattoos! "Is that what happened?" This was asked to Cavez by our man. And Cavez said, "Yes."

"Good. Now we find a good armour cap for our head once we're out of here which seems doubtful. Do you'll guys eat some humans? African bastards!"


"Where are we, Cavez?" said our man as we see their legs entwined as lovers and a man in custom's uniform has opened the box at the dock and is staring around. "Who the shit are you white uniformed white boy?"


(to be continued)

Monday, April 03, 2006

It was a calm and bright morning (contd. 2)


The next time he woke up, all he remembered hearing was, "Usted es loco?"

"Main kahaan hoon?" Old bollywood saying, man who wakes up from knock-out always talks in mother tongue.

"Senor, you are in Mexico City," the man with a sombrero was as astonished as our man with a fedora and he repeated again, "Usted es loco?"

"Do I look fucking Mexican?"


"I'm not."


"I don't know Spanish! Trans-thefreaking-late!"

"Oh ok! No no, you are not to be late. You are to be on time. You arrive in beeg box. My son thought you're the my elder son Cavez who never came back from big city New York."

"I've never been to New York and I don't care about Cavez."

"I know. Man from Kenya send me anime-comic book which is a folleto on how to take care of you."

"Ah that dumb Okinawan book."

"Okinawa no, Kenya. After Kill Bill everyone either want to go to church in El Paso or drink sake in Okinawa. The hollywood is destroying world tourism. I'm starting signature campaign against Quentin Tarantino. He also polluted our own Roberto and licked toes of Salma - the mexican honour!"

"Roberto whatevero! I-o want-o to-o go-o hom-o!" Our man with a fedora screams. Not that his fedora still looks like one, it's lost it's stiffness and shape after those days in the FedEx box and before that the DHL box.

A silence followed after that. Pedro started eyeing him with suspicion. He quietly goes out and brings him tacos and some extra beans. Hungry and weak, the man starts eating with both hands. While he's eating, Pedro went and talked to some other men outside. Soon a certain senor Vargas in his mid-forties turns up and stands behind our fedora man and then suddenly feeling like he's being leched at the man turns to senor and stares.

Senor Vargas: "Usted es homo?"

Pedor walked in then, "He asking whether you are homosexual. Don't be shy, say yes. You really look like you're in dire need of some sex. You've been abstaining from Okinawa to Kenya to Mexico."

"Yes I haven't even masturbated BUT I'm not homo. I thought about Salma Hayek the last time I got off."


When the man with the crumpled fedora woke up, "Donde estoy?"

Suddenly he stared into the mirror. His overcoat was hanging on a string besides him and his hat was nice shaped and back again but wet still. He had a sombrero with 'fedora' written on it and a poncho around his neck, BUT no pants! Biggest of all things he stared at his tongue first and said, "Oh mi dios! Estoy hablando en espanol!"

Then Senor Vargas walked up to him from behind carrying a 'English in a few easy steps' book, "Are you want coffee?"

"I want to go home."

"You want homo?"

"You ugly old perverted bastard, take me out of here."

"You want go out with me? Really? For a date?"

"Nooooo!" Our man screams and this time by mistake faints without a wack. Senor Vargas checks the anime-brochure once again, puzzled and feels cheated, 'This isn't how it's supposed to work! I didn't get to wack him' and then wacks him anyways - Wack!

When he comes to, Cavez is back from New York and they're standing near a wooden stage near their house and a few people are performing live. It's a mexican band singing the song loud and clear. The guitarist and the way he played his guitar makes our friend homesick. He stared thinking of Mithun Chakraborthy and his famous disco dancer dance, the one when he holds the guitar to his chin and plays with his wrist.

Cavez there, was a man of few words or so realised our friend who decided to get a silver shining suit to look like Mithun Chakraborthy. He was obsessed. He wanted to dance, he wanted to dance like the disco dancer to salsa music. He turned around to Cavez and asked him, "So Cavez, what did you do in America?"

"I didn't go to America but don't tell my father."

"Then what happened?"

"I met some rastafarii and we smoked up a lot of weed then I called them black africans. The lat thing I remember after that was a wack in my head."

"Then what?"

"Then I was found on the Mexican border right at the border post and they were checking for illegal immigrants. They arrested me. I was sent back. I found another group of rastafarii but they were white rastas and were going to Colombia. I worked for them silently till one day all of them were killed by a few Columbians. Then I got wacked again for insulting the Columbians. Then I woke up in my own backyard. I don't know why, I didn't ask why. Papa said I arrived just like you did, in a FedEx box. Now we have two FedEx boxes in the house and we don't have places to keep them."

"Why do you want to keep FedEx boxes?"

"Because I love FedEx boxes. I ran away from home because they threw away two small FedEx envelopes and one medium FedEx box. Now they know better than throw away two nice huge FedEx boxes."


By now our hero had started discodancing to latino music. All the women started laughing at him and all the men mocked. There was but one woman, Julia who stood far behind the stage and was staring at this weird half-mexican man in a fedora and black overcoat, dancing in weird disco steps to the fabulous salsa music. She was turned on by his dance steps. He suddenly noticed her blushing as he danced. He went there and asked her to the dance floor. She readily agreed and started performing her hot salsa moves on his discoing body. Soon enough they danced their way into one of those small warehouses where they kept lots of hay like it is shown in every western movie that shows a Mexican town. There're barrels of tequila and lots of grass. It's obvious about what happened next. He asked her if she was married, she lied. They then drank tequila and he said how he found latina women hot. He kept talking and talking. She suddenly felt that this was an insult and they were supposed to be having hot indian sex in that warehouse. She didn't spend time performing those hot salsa moves for nothing, at least not for a dumb disco dancer! So...


This time around when he came to he saw a lot of black people crowding in to see inside a FedEx box. It was his FedEx box, his anime-brochure on his lap. One white guy came in as he slips from between the huge black hiphop urban homies. He picked up the brochure as our man was trying to crawl out of the box. He started laughing. He showed it to the other men around him, they started laughing too. Our man turned to them and asked, "What's your problem, dude?"


He comes to inside a dark club where the bassline's bursting with hiphop beats and black rappers rapping extempore, "Hey everybody come to 313!"

(to be continued)

It was a calm and bright morning (contd.)

Wack! The next time when he came to, he saw a tall thin negro offering him an orange.

"Where am I?"

The negro said in a very strange accent, "You want orange, man from box from India?"

"Where the fuck am I?"

"The orange is very juicy. Here try using that to come back to senses." He held the orange to his head for sometime and mumbled something as our fedora man started looking for where he was. It seemed like a primitive hut in some forest.

A huge DHL marked box was placed inside that room, upside down where the negro had kept a fruit assortment. In a few seconds the negro squeezed the orange onto the man's forehead with all his might.

"What the fuck?! Where am I?"

"This is Kenya. Hello I'm Mwamba and I am a member of the Masai tribe here. This is one of the last few rural areas left where original traditions and religion is followed. Everywhere else they've modernised. You're our first modern gift from mankind. You came by DHL service addressed to me. I've been promoted as leader of my tribe. Thanks to you. You're the man who come in all black to absord all the heat from us in the summer and cool us down. Hence, first I cool you down with orange juice. That's what you foreigners drink in summer, right? I had to import this one from the city - not a good omen but anything for you."

"How do you know so good english?"

"I spent five years in New York."

"What the heck?"

"I was about to be selected for a basket ball team for NYSU but later on they become racist and tell me I am animal from Africa."

"You claim this vilage be unadulterated?"

"Only legend. The chief's daughter be made love to by white man two years back."

"Whatever. See dude, I last remember being Shanghai."

"Yes, I know. The DHL man said to me, that this parcel was from China."

"I'm damn hungry." Then he started feasting on the fruits that were placed on his 'vehicle' as the negro called it.

Later the man and the negro took a walk in the village. There was only one white child playing there with the whole lot of black children. Our man couldn't help but ask, "Whose child is this?"

"No one is supposed to say. We supposed to say that no one knows. He be white god's child."

"God's child?"

Wack! The next time he wakes up the negro's offering him another orange. He grabs it and eats it with the peel. The negro says, "No insulting the child or white god."

"Who is white god?"

"No asking questions."

The man shrugs.

"How did you know I was Indian and how do you know where to hit me like the Chinese do?"

"Chinese be good people. They send me letter with diagrams and explanations on how to tackle a foolish Indian like you. Here see this."

There was a nice airport safety brochure styled but with anime-figures drawn on a piece of paper. The man who was being hit in the picture didn't look like our man, he had big anime-eyes but he had the same clothes that the fedora man was wearing since the last howmanyever number of days. That stink from his body made him think of what date was it. But before he could ask, the negro turned a page and said, "You see that picture here. They describe how to switch you on and off. You be a good chinese toy, Indian."

"What date is it?"

"One week since your first blow the chinese girl hit you for calling a korean a chinese."

"How do you know that?"

"They make anime-comic of that too and send from Okinawa."

Our man stopped caring all of a sudden and said he wanted to meet white god. He wanted to pray for well being of his family and so that he could return back home soon. In truth he had no family, he was an orphan but considered every street child his family. Some times he thought he must be having some family somewhere far away - he would pray for them.

"Where is white god temple?"

Sometime later the negro and our man are standing next to a wooden small church on the outskirts of the village, "This is no freaking temple, it's a village."

Suddenly it began dawning on our man. It was the case of every missionary joke. The missionary must've fucked the chief's daughter and he must be called the 'white god'. And then Mwamba took him inside and pointed at Jesus Christ and said, this is the white god. He was born without sex and he has given birth without sex. The chief's daughter is still safe and clean and pure. I might marry her next year.

"Who sold you this junk?"

"Messenger of the white god."

"Bullshit. You people are dumb long legged ancient stupid fools with brains in your pingpong ball sized kneecaps. Some white fucker fucked your chief's daughter and your chief and that white priest are fooling you completely."

Wack! The next time he woke up, all he remembered hearing was, "Usted es loco?"

(to be continued)

Saturday, April 01, 2006

It was a calm and bright morning

It was a dark and stormy night. The man walked in the rains on the streets of the city. The streetlights were poofed off by someone. No one knew who. He wore a long black overcoat and a black fedora. He tried smoking a cigar for effect but it got extinguished in the rain and the cigar became all wet and looked like a smudgestick. You could start writing with it on a white wall and get greenish black dirty coloured fading letters. But that's not the purpose of the story, the purpose is - it was a dark and stormy night.

So then, on that dark and stormy night the man kept walking and waiting for something to happen. Nothing did happen and soon it was a bright and calm morning. On his long walk which never stopped because nothing happened, he saw a man practicing Kung Fu in the garden. The man looked chinese, the man turned around and said, "Ae chingpong, you do good kung fu."

"It's not kung fu, it's Ju Jitsu and I'm not Chinese but I'm Korean."

"Bah doesn't make a difference, all you narrow eyes are the same." The man kept walking.

Suddenly he got a straight wack on the back of his head as he fell down. He came to in a small hut where a man with narrow eyes looked at him, "I'm very sorry for my daughter's misbehaviour. She doesn't stand our culture being dishonoured so easily. We're chinese. You called a korean chinese so she was pissed."

"Ah never mind. But that was kung fu right?"

"No, it was Karate."

"We're from Okinawa but we're Chinese."

"Yea, whatever. As if it matters to me. But what the heck are you doing in a slum in Bombay?"


The next time he woke up, he saw a lot of people around him, "Welcome to consciousness O man in black coat and fedora! We're sorry for our brother's misbehaviour. He can't stand people not caring about our culture. He takes it too personally that we're being ignored like insects just because we're a huge country."

"Where am I?"

"This is a basement in Shanghai, China."

"Ahh. Ok." Then he suddenly went bonkers, "WHAT?! What the heck am I doing in chingpong country?"

"We were leaving your country, we didn't know what to do with an unconscious you so we got you along, it's against our honour to leave you there. Our ancestors would've been pissed at us."

"Ancestors, Fancestors, Blah blah, Whatever. Take me back to Bombay."

Wack! The next time when he came to, he saw a tall thin negro offering him an orange.

(to be continued)