A wide-mouthed 'Happy 2016', from the Lady as she shook me hand and unhinged it. Did not mind having stepped into 2016 pulpy in the head after all the reading of Roald Dahl and his kids books - Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Matilda and The BFG. 'So how was it all,' me asked and she sat me on the bench at Bhagwan's tea stall. 'A long week my pets - birds, dogs, cats and Dinesh, my donkey - have slept; nights we chatted, sang and drank French wines, a friend sent me; two fruit bats, as you know, had no problems as they munch the nights and snore the days; Dinesh shook my hands with his forelegs for the good times; excited, kicked the sofa with his hind legs; and now, back to the ancient routine. The Lady was dressed, adequately covered, upside down-way - a T-shirt for her lower half and a frock for the upper half - with her walking stick bent into a purse. Tea session over we stood up to continue with the walk like writing a news report after stepping out for a smoke. Along the wall guarding the St. Francis ground, we were making our way, when out flew over the wall a five year old boy, landed on the Lady; apparently, the kid ran in to kick a football in the ground (a penalty), missed the ball, came over the wall; the ball stayed unmoved; oye, shouted his team and the coach as they came out in search of the Shandy, the kid. Shandy was not sure of the proceedings; had a belly laugh as his friends collected him and put him back into the game; as that was happening, an elder riding a cricket bat scaled the ball in search of a cricket ball, crashed into the Lady; this time the Lady fell while the elder had no clue to the happening. An amused Lady was thankful stones and birds were not falling from the skies as it happens when she is deep asleep in her bed. The last stop of the Lady is the Bun Shop opposite the Church whose owner, young Philip, is madder than the Lady; most of the time, he is at the Church in prayers leaving the Shop open and customers waiting in unison, praying; they wait as the buns are cheap, weighty and sweet; at 6 in the morning, the bun van comes, Bun Shop opens, fresh cakes, pavs and bread loaves are stacked on the shelves; Philip runs to prayers as then business flowers, he claims and the Lady and all nod yeses. Philip is brisk at the shop, neatly packs items in fresh, morning newspapers, the vendor, his friend, drops. No complaints over the food; ready with loose change; first cum first serve, no breaking lines. The Lady shuffles into the queue for her regular, vegetable puffs, brun pavs and Amul butter; Philip is sure, it is not for her but for her pets; on Sundays he gives a hefty discount to the Lady. Yes, that's what the chewing of Roald Dahl does to readers, unfixes a 70 year old.
Monday, January 4, 2016
The Lady and Dahl
A wide-mouthed 'Happy 2016', from the Lady as she shook me hand and unhinged it. Did not mind having stepped into 2016 pulpy in the head after all the reading of Roald Dahl and his kids books - Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Matilda and The BFG. 'So how was it all,' me asked and she sat me on the bench at Bhagwan's tea stall. 'A long week my pets - birds, dogs, cats and Dinesh, my donkey - have slept; nights we chatted, sang and drank French wines, a friend sent me; two fruit bats, as you know, had no problems as they munch the nights and snore the days; Dinesh shook my hands with his forelegs for the good times; excited, kicked the sofa with his hind legs; and now, back to the ancient routine. The Lady was dressed, adequately covered, upside down-way - a T-shirt for her lower half and a frock for the upper half - with her walking stick bent into a purse. Tea session over we stood up to continue with the walk like writing a news report after stepping out for a smoke. Along the wall guarding the St. Francis ground, we were making our way, when out flew over the wall a five year old boy, landed on the Lady; apparently, the kid ran in to kick a football in the ground (a penalty), missed the ball, came over the wall; the ball stayed unmoved; oye, shouted his team and the coach as they came out in search of the Shandy, the kid. Shandy was not sure of the proceedings; had a belly laugh as his friends collected him and put him back into the game; as that was happening, an elder riding a cricket bat scaled the ball in search of a cricket ball, crashed into the Lady; this time the Lady fell while the elder had no clue to the happening. An amused Lady was thankful stones and birds were not falling from the skies as it happens when she is deep asleep in her bed. The last stop of the Lady is the Bun Shop opposite the Church whose owner, young Philip, is madder than the Lady; most of the time, he is at the Church in prayers leaving the Shop open and customers waiting in unison, praying; they wait as the buns are cheap, weighty and sweet; at 6 in the morning, the bun van comes, Bun Shop opens, fresh cakes, pavs and bread loaves are stacked on the shelves; Philip runs to prayers as then business flowers, he claims and the Lady and all nod yeses. Philip is brisk at the shop, neatly packs items in fresh, morning newspapers, the vendor, his friend, drops. No complaints over the food; ready with loose change; first cum first serve, no breaking lines. The Lady shuffles into the queue for her regular, vegetable puffs, brun pavs and Amul butter; Philip is sure, it is not for her but for her pets; on Sundays he gives a hefty discount to the Lady. Yes, that's what the chewing of Roald Dahl does to readers, unfixes a 70 year old.
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