A fish
By Nameirakpam Bobo Meitei *
He was the kind of man who could switch his side easily. A man who could be a reliable friend, then a disturbing foe, not a dangerous one.
He wouldn't have to feel that significance of being one as all around him were all capricious and they all seemed to take pleasure in their caprice. They make the world change act in a wicked fashion and change its colour as if it doesn't need to have one.
A bony figure clothed in greasy clothes; some colourless trousers, a jacket , which must have been blue at some point, zipped up to the chest, over a stained yellow shirt.
Sitting on his tiny motorbike he looked at the masked policeman who has stopped him to check his driving license, another word to suck on another prey. But he turned out to be a different fish.
A barking fish.
An intoxicated fish who in his stimulated state was ferocious enough to stand up to a big fish, who he knew could eat him up. ' Aheeha!
What the hell do you want?' yelled he to the pot-bellied masked policeman and the passers-by stopped by to spend their star on the man for a little while.
Exposed parts of his face turned red and his breathing became faster exposing the contraction and expansion of his prominent to the people around. Hadn't he had the sun-glasses on he could have been seen as a man capable of crushing the man's life.
' what did you say?' demanded in a disturbing tone. The fish rephrased what he had said as if it pleased me immensely. The squinting behind the sunglasses and the raised tone had an effect on the bony man, he rammed his into his stained pocket and pulled out a discoloured mobile phone in silicon rubber.
Before the officer could lay his hand on his frail shoulders he cried out ' Let me call my guys at the another police station. Don't touch me, ok!' He fiddled and fiddled in vain and muttered malicious imprecations under his breath and avoided the calculative stare of the policeman.
The officer hadn't sought his vengeance, the colour in his face hadn't changed, it had reached his eyes below the black helmet. As if he couldn't take impact of the insult to his authoritative power, which is never challenged, he seized the man at his neck and attempted to brag but the frail man's one hand clung on the motorbike and like a reptile hissed which came out as additional imprecations.
The officer stopped witnessing the pedestrians who began pouring and their presence checked his physical strength as well as the authority he otherwise would have easily used. This gave the man to pore over his phone again and to get ' his guys at the another station' and wished at the same time the officer had left.
No. The insulted man lingered and he had radioed to ' his real men at his station.'
Those who stopped by only looked but none inquired and as though the show was over one group moved on, then another arrived. The barking fish seems to have realized the ground reality and he stood there fiddling his phone and gasping for breath.
Two bulky masked officers emerged walked up to the reddened officer and without delaying they walked up towards the gasping man. One grabbed the man at his neck, while another began pushing.
He stopped his mental imprecations which we could have been possible, instead he turned his head over his frail shoulder and gave the audience a beseeching look 'I'm heavily influenced by toxic, please do help me.'
How certain he appeared of his fate, the fate of being in a damp cell without any intervention, where the insulted man would have privilege to settle his score. What he could do was to fall on his knees and beg for mercy.
A repairable damaged had been caused and it could only be repaired when the insulted man had sought his vengeance. In his betrayed state, betrayed by his inebriated power, he was overcome by the imagination of what would happen.
And this imagination of receiving pain weakened his mental strength and the hope of being in an opposite situation. He was dragged and shoved and the number of audience slowly dwindled, only one or two lingered to answer few inquisitions.
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* Nameirakpam Bobo Meitei, a resident of Bangkok, contributes to e-pao.net regularly. The writer can be contacted at bobomeitei(at)hotmail(dot)com . This article was webcasted on January 15th 2010.
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