A possible baby has just been tossed off at a silent place at the break of the dawn and soon he shuffles out from the poignant place and ponders over the distant land which supplies his monthly squandering strength as today is the last week of the month and he recalls what the hunted daddy promised him days ago; an Indus prototype of super bike.
The scandalous damsels down the roads have also been counting on the much awaited pseudo-super bike to have a sumptuous fatty meal at his dilapidated flat where he has been sheltering and fashioning his life with counterfeit Levi's and flimsy shirts as another exiled prince.
Poppy juggling pop has empowered his pill-popping pop son like a prodigious pampered brat to live a prolonged life in this blistering capital-city of modern India.
No big deal for the poppy pop as he is the guru of the hoodlumish conducts in the far-flung jungle of east India.
He has recently been, contentiously, elected as the head of the state amid bloodshed of democratic election which are frequently held under the intentionally mistaken aegis of bureaucratic Election Commission of India.
From the very inception of his scandalous career he has been preaching favourism as well as nepotism which he has achieved and people around the place has started modeling their lives on his bloody feat.
Few years ago when infamous daddy was engaged with notorious dealings the son became infected.
The talk that spread around the town was; the son sneaked into daddy's storehouse and juggled with the malicious consignments supposed to be destined for the local pubs and others which were then quite frequented by the fastidious blokes. He poked into a white-coloured packet and put the content in his mouth unconsciously vying to find solace from his paranoid life.
Illusion appeared first then hallucination slowly took over and he started chanting his make-believe tales to the disgruntled blokes around the town. Soon he became a commanding ringleader. The elevation was fostered by his daddy's obvious reputation.
May be out of fear or out of frustration the blokes around the town adored him which culminated him into a cult figure among the desperate many who had long been struggling to escape from their lives, stranded in anger and hunger.
But daddy was not satisfied with the rotten brat's discovery and elevation. For nights he sat in the darkness pondering over the possibility to keep his rotten brat at bay from the perpetual satisfaction that has been gnawing him.
Finally he caught up with the trendy idea of sending his lad to a trendy city where people spoke singy-songy English while pursuing the singy-songy education he could also be able to prevent the fateful days ahead unlike his shabby-dressed disciples. That's how his arrival at the neo-colonial capital city had been arranged.
Old habits die hard and birds of the same colours fly together. On the day he arrived he was given a warm welcome by some pot-bellied soft-spoken veterans who had been well familiar with each and every alley in the capital-city. They had also been on the mission to avoid death and few of them were the victims of competitive civil servants examinations.
As daddy had a frightening reputation the veterans paid their visits and did all they could while daddy allowed them to devour their nostalgic dreams just to make sure his son had bunch of mentors to assist him in the time of need.
They were, in fact, trustworthy mentors who had the reputation of being always helpful by going to the extent of disdaining their future and education.
However the relation between his son and the appointed mentors went sore as the mentors plotted to feed on the unlimited fortune of the just-arrived lad. He was not naïve and nor was he blind and that rose to an altercation and the rising undesirable situation brought a bitter but silent show down.
Recollecting what they, the mentors, had done for him and the warm regards they received from his dad they threatened the lad with the likely consequences he might face if he didn't pay heed to their advice.
The boy turned out to be a stubborn bastard and the conflict went from bad to worse.
* N. Bobo Meitei, a resident of Bangkok, contributes to e-pao.net regularly.
The writer can be contacted at [email protected] .
This article was webcasted on March 21st 2007.
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