Mrs Nobody Writes A Letter To Mr Nobody

Dear Mr Nobody,

It feels good to know that you are having the time of your life. How I know, you might wonder. Well, the last letter you wrote to your son landed in my hand. Perhaps you have forgotten that we live together in the same house.  He is not home, goodness knows where he’s gone; like father like son. And, ah, you write to your son in such a manner as if he is not a son but an old friend of yours. Shameless, utterly shameless you are.

It is a fact well-known that you do nothing apart from complaining all the time. I do remember how you used to complain about each and everything when we were studying together in the college. Everyone was fed up with you. Your very existence seemed an agony. But presently what a great change has come upon you. How well you speak of others (I mean of that lady of quality you mentioned). Sarcasm is your cup of tea, not mine. I will, therefore, speak to you in as plain a way as possible.

Tell me, did you kiss her? Did she kiss you? I mean, really if she wants to kiss you or something, let her do it. And let her do it in your neck. I can only wish, when she kisses your neck, she takes the form of a crocodile.

You say you will be staying in London as long as you please. I hope and pray to God that you will never be displeased come what may.  Well, I have nothing more to say.

Mrs Nobody

Copyright © 2014 RAMU DAS

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So, What’s The News?

So, tell me, what is the news?
Like yesterday, today, is there any gory tale?
Tell me the news, oh don’t ye refuse.
Give me some news of failure, who and what did fail?

Oh great, this man killed that man
A girl dumped her boyfriend; the boyfriend died.
Oh my, how gruesome: that celebrity ate a live hen.
Some foreigners arrived, they need a tour guide.

Some more girls are raped and brutally injured
A corrupted politician is no more corrupted
The economy, you say, is fully disrupted.
By her ravishing body the saint was lured.

Is that all or do you have more?
Which poor got poorer?
Which rich, richer?
If no more news you have, tell me some lore.

Ah, you got more news: tell me, then, I’m all ears
But tell me something good,
Something that mayn’t so much as bring to my eye tears
Oh fool, be mute, be mute!
That you just told me wasn’t at all good
Now go away, you brute!
And let me play my flute
No more news shall I hear, I’ve changed my mood.

Copyright © 2013 RAMU DAS

Bothering, bothering, and bothering!

The thing is… no, it is not just one thing; truly, not just a thing. Well, there are certain things; you know what I’m talking about. No, you don’t. Gosh! How you surprise me. Okay, should I spell it out? Yes. Then allow me, oh please do, to say a few words – words that may not so much as displease you – after all, you don’t know what the things are, do you? You Don’t. Of course you don’t, why else will you stare at my words with so blank an expression.

The most important thing, above all other things, is that she (Miss Somebody) is pretty. And, oh, someone once told me that all pretty girls are bound to have someone in their lives. I’m not sure how desperate girls are to have a man, but surely most men, but not all men, want nothing but pretty girls as their girlfriends and wives. I’m fine with anyone – pretty or not – who has a good heart. Once, there was one such girl, who happened to be pretty as well as a good-hearted women, but it occurred to me that she preferred someone unlike me, and so did I find out later… heck, let it be. That was past and past is past.

I’m concerned about the present. Miss Somebody works in the same organization as I do for the past two months, but I with all my eccentricity and reclusive nature didn’t so much as socialize with her or know what her name was. But, I used to look at her from the corner of my eyes, and whenever I did that I found her looking at me.

A friend of friend is a friend of hers. Now, after the exchange of a few words with that friend of friend, that friend of friend is my friend as well.  The friend of my friend, as we became friends, told me what her name was. I started doing a little research about her. I tried to find as much information about her from as many sources as were available; never did I do any such thing throughout my college life when the point was about my studies, had I done so I might have as well been a topper in the College if not in the University or something like that, you know.

Her relationship status on FB said she was single, but that didn’t tell me if she was ready to mingle. So, I clicked on her photos and read all her status updates and the comments that followed. I ignored the comments that girls made, however, I meticulously read the all the comments made by men to get a hint that she was close to someone… that, I thought, some or the other man maybe bold enough to write something private in public. But, no, I could not find any such comments.  I was pleased. Other social media didn’t reveal so much about her.

What if she is married, I wondered. I saw she wore a necklace on her neck, but luckily that wasn’t a Mangal Sūtra. When I looked at her more closely than before, I saw her eyes were golden, she had a mole on the left side of her forehead, she had a tattoo on her wrist, and she wore a ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. “Is she engaged?”My heart started beating faster at this very thought. “No, no, no!” I assured myself, “That can’t be, that can’t be.”

If I wanted I could have asked the girl if she had a boyfriend or something, but I brushed aside that idea because if I did that she would have got the impression that I was interested in her. What an awkward situation it would be if she’d told me that she had a boyfriend, and asked me the reason for asking the question. I know she would be flattered if I asked her that; she might also think that she is too beautiful and think highly of her own appearance. I didn’t want her to be puffed up with vanity of any kind.

Once again I asked the friend of friend, who is now my friend, if the girl in question was engaged or has a boyfriend or something. “And, may I ask,” Said he, “why do you raise such a question?”

“Curiosity,” said I, and he grinned, the grin that makes you think you are a liar, “the devil called curiosity got the better of me.”

“Oh, I see.” said the friend of friend, still grinning, “She must be lucky to be the only object of your curiosity in so big a company as ours.”

Such teasing! I thought. I liked the damned fellow less and less. “A simple question I asked and, my friend, a simple answer I would prefer, that will suffice,” I remarked.

“What a coincidence it is,” said the friend of friend, whom I started liking less and less, “that she bothers me about you, and now you’re asking me questions about her.”

“She bothers you about me?” that was news for me; I was surprised to hear that.

“Yes, yes, bothering, bothering and bothering! I have no intention of playing the mediator between you two.” What an emotional outburst, will he start crying now, I thought, “I’m making it clear, absolutely clear, that you should take care of your own stuff before anything begins from the beginning.”

What a fatherly advice he can give, I thought. “I understand,” I said and tried to console the fellow for I started liking him once again.

Copyright © 2013 RAMU DAS

Let Me Drink

Drinking

Drinking (Photo credit: paukrus)

Let me drink, let me drink.

Let no pain, nor pleasure, nor grief, nor do joys bother me.

Help me my thoughts link,

For when I’m drunk, no sense in the world, whatsoever, do I see.

 

Let me drink, let me drink.

Be with me, listen to me, sing me a song and laugh with me;

Make a toast, let the glasses clink.

C’mon now, blurt out what you must, and set yourself free.

 

You always complain that I keep to my-self,

You say that for you I hardly care.

Today, however, I’d provide you all my help

And with you everything I will share.

 

Tomorrow when I come to my senses

No word that blames, or that kindles strife, can I hear!

But now, my heart flutters and dances.

Come, let me pour you the wines; let us drink and have no fear.

 

Copyright © 2013 RAMU DAS

He Will Be Back Sooner Rather Than Later.

Hello lads and ladies!

This man who has been writing all the silly posts on this blog for some time now has something to say to you all. Lend him your ears for another moment, if you will, as you have done so in the past. Or else you stand a chance to call him a broken-hearted man. I’m sure you wouldn’t like that. All he asks of you is to pay him a little attention. That’s it, nothing more. Of course, you people are kind-hearted; I must be busted for assuming anything otherwise.

The fella says he will be away for a month or two. He deems it is necessary to let you know where he is going, for he cares for you, for he wants to keep his readership on this blog active, and when he comes back and writes some more silly posts he wishes to see the amazing people, as he has seen so far, come and embellish the blog as much as they can.

So, where is the fella going anyway? He has been craving to see and hug his parents. He wants to spend some time – some memorable time that he can cherish forever – with them. It has been a long time that he is keeping away from them. It is the nature of his work that forces him to stay away from them; it is not something that he wishes for, but he knows life calls for many kinds of compromises.

He makes you a promise and he means it: it won’t be long before he comes back and once again write some more silly posts. His intention is, and always has been, to entertain you, if not to enlighten you. He plans to explore some famous parts of Northeast India, Nagaland and Assam most preferably, which he calls home. He intends to visit the Kaziranga National Park and click some photos of everything wild and beautiful.  Not just that, he would, in fact, click photos of anything and everything that interests him. He hopes his Eastman Kodak Camera would justify the clarity of the photos. He completely trusts his camera in that matter!

So, dear readers, fellow-bloggers, and anonymous visitors do stay tuned. Your friend will be back sooner rather than later.

Copyright © 2013 RAMU DAS 

Mr Nobody Writes Once Again

Dear Lady CR,

Ah! Don’t worry; I’m not writing to complain again (like I did in the past). You know, I’ve much better things to do apart from complaining all the time. Believe you me, ah ha, I’m writing this letter because I want to express my appreciation for all the things you have done for me. Only for me, he-he-he!  There is not much time left for us together in the college, and I don’t want to delay writing this further. It is now or never.

How kind you are Milady. No matter what people call you to your face or behind your face. What do they call you, anyway? ‘Fat?’  And do they describe you with some other words like: enormous, massive, large, mammoth, etc?  Well, they might be right but I don’t agree with them fully. The thing is they overlook the huge heart you have beneath your exterior. And that is, indeed, a matter of grave concern. But wait, does the word ‘fat’ really apply to you. I mean, you know, fat is bad. We don’t say ‘fat as a tiger’, we say ‘fat as a pig’. Now, pig is an ugly creature. Milady, you are not ugly. I would say you are powerful, well yes, powerful like the elephant.

When someone says you are weighty, I would not say they are wrong. Apparently, yes, you are. However, the word ‘fat’ is really not for you. I have observed – Did I say I’m a good observer? – how deftly you move your fingers. And you do carry your mass gracefully just like Lady Gaga (She has a funny name though. GAGA), and what with the mental quickness, and the agility of your body; you can sing and dance better than most other girls your age, jog some mile every morning.

When you have so many unfat qualities, it is wrong to say you are fat. They are all goddamned fools who call you fat. Believe you me, keh keh keh!

Anyway, I’m so thankful to you! My happiness knows no bound even as I type this letter, and that’s only because of you. I think my first letter – which I wrote a few months back – had a profound effect on you. I’m extremely pleased with your kind words, and the personal service you have provided me. You have also informed me about all the happenings in the college, about the companies coming to the college for placement.

But, my bad luck. I was not keeping well at that time. And when I was a little better I did come to the college to sit for the placement. But there, to my dismay, the Fernandez girl spoiled it all. Neither was she selected nor was I. Kiddies always do such nonsense things. Anyway, I can forgive her, she is a kid after all, and she is a good girl, her papa’s child. Though to the world she might be full of attitude and all that, but she is just fine with me.

Who really disheartened me is the Krishnan girl, that old queen, you know. Oh, what I thought of her! Oh how I liked her! But, dear Lady CR, that old queen is good at beguiling all men’s heart with her smooth talk. But, actually, she is a cold-hearted woman. She cursed me, and lo, I had a boil on my bum, and I suffered from numerous illnesses: cold chest, runny nose, high temperature, jaundice, and whatnot.

You see, dear Lady CR, I have become so skinny; lost more than eight kilos of my flesh, and that’s all because of that old queen. Yet, she is so full of attitude, didn’t even ask me how I was. Peace be upon her.  I wouldn’t wish her a boil on her bum, that’s very painful; I can’t see her in pain. But I do wish her boyfriend a big boil on his bum. I don’t know if she has an imaginary boyfriend or a real one. Ha… ha…ha!

Now, you must be wondering why I have not mentioned anything about your counterpart. I have this philosophy: things of lesser importance should be done at the end.

What was the word I used to describe him the last time I wrote an open letter to you, dear Lady CR? You see, I have a really poor memory when it comes to lesser important things. I think it was a slang word or something like that. Anyway, that’s not important; however, the word seemed to have offended your counterpart very much. A few months back he saw me in the college. I smiled he did not smile back. Instead, he gritted his teeth, shuddered his shoulder unnecessarily (just to imply how strong he was, I guessed), curled his fingers in his palm, made them into a fist as if to punch me hard in the face and quench his anger. But no, I was wrong. I learnt later that he does such acts when he has to go to the loo. When I asked why he does that, no one could explain the reason, not even his closest friends. Strange activity!

Another day, I saw him in the corridor. I thought I should approach and talk to him and bury all kind of grudges, if any, he had against me. His strange activity once again baffled me: he started dancing, rocking and rolling just like Prabhu Deva. Perhaps he had seen the movie “Any body can dance” and could not contain himself, I thought. Oh no, that was not the reason. He saw some pretty girls passing by, and, thus, was showing off his dancing skills. The girls seemed really impressed. Now, after knowing how talented he is, I’m his friend, or perhaps he would consider me his big fan.

“Hi,” I greeted him with a smiling face. I admit that was just a pretentious smile.  Ni-ha-ha-ha!

“Don’t talk to me,” he grumbled. The past incident was bothering him. I had to make things light.

“It’s ok man. Take it easy. I’m your big fan.” He seemed very pleased with the last remark. He started smiling. However, the past incident once again bothered him and his smile faded away. I decided to flatter him a little more if that was the only solution. “Oh man, you are really talented. You score such good marks in the exams, and, I believe, even Terence Lewis cannot compete with you in dancing.” By this time his smile came back to his face, and I added one more sentence: “How do you do these wonderful things?”

“I don’t share my secrets, do you understand?” He replied, boastfully.

“I see. Dance man dance. You are made for it.” I thought he needed some encouragement.

He looked at me as though I were an alien, and asked, very grimly, “Did you say ‘dance monkey dance?’”

“Oh no, I can never say such a thing to a great person like you.” I answered promptly, lest the great person should be angry.

“But you did write a letter where you used a malicious word for me.” I knew he would come to this.

“Oh my! That was just for fun,” I assured.

“No funny business with me, do you understand?” He bellowed.

“Yes, sir, I get you.” I was being as humble as I could be.

“No. That won’t do,” he said somewhat abruptly and added, “I want a lollipop.”

There we go! He was acting just like that Menon girl and that Fernandez girl whom I consider newborn babies. “Alright, here you are,” I said and threw a lollipop at him. He caught it just like Yuvraj Singh, the great fielder of Indian cricket team.

“Now I want a lozenge!” He demanded.

“There you go,” I gave him a lozenge. His catch was better than the first.

“Now a Pizza,” he said. Pizzas don’t come cheap, so I hesitated a little. His demand started becoming aggressive, “I will tell my father,” he said, “and my father will inform his friend who is in the police, and you would be screwed for writing that letter publicly.”

I had no other choice but to empty my purse and order a pizza for the great person.

Dear Lady CR, I think you must have grown tired by reading this letter of mine. So let me stop here, and this, I promise, is my last letter to you, unless situation demands. Tee! hee! hee!

I remain, ever yours,

Mr Nobody

Copyright © 2013 RAMU DAS

Winter Agony

Oh this weather! Oh the suffering! I’ve received a chilly greeting from the very beginning of this chilly season. Oh winter, why haven’t you been nice to me this time? Some may like this season, some may not. But no matter you like it or not, it will keep recurring year after year, as so has always been the nature (quality) of nature from time immemorial.

Chest cold, and I’m coughing like some hardcore smoker coughs. I’ve a high body temperature, headache, runny nose (I’ve to sniff every time). My throat pains. My tonsil is hurting. This noisy explosion of air from my lungs is unbearable, to me as well as to the bystanders. At a distance do my friends move, as if they might get hurt, as if a bullet chases them. Perhaps they’ve started considering me a boor by now. “Go away, then, you might be shredded into pieces by the bullet coming out of me.” I want to say but I don’t say. It will make things worse, I know.

And I think bum is the wrong place for a boil, for the area is very sensitive and the pain is excruciating. Had it been in other areas of the body such as the hands or the legs or maybe the shoulder I wouldn’t have complained a wee bit. However, I would have equally complained, had the boil made its place beneath my nose (this area too is extremely sensitive), or on my face, I fear it would damage the handsomeness of my precious face ( ha! – that’s a joke).

I’m not sure if any of these diseases and infections got anything to do with winter, but, since, all these have been making my life miserable in this season of the year, I have no choice but to curse this season, at least this time. Even a little pain in this season seems unbearable. But, I’m pretty sure, married couple or newly wedded couple would prefer winter than summer. I still have enough time for it, I guess.

Today is our Republic Day (that is the 26th January, here in India). The secondary school near my house has organized a function. I can hear the loud music coming out of the speakers. I can also feel the vibration that is produced by the dancers stamping on the wooden stage (wooden? Yes, that’s what my brother told me, and I gladly believe him, as he had been to the function a little earlier). But I cannot go out and be a part of the celebration; I’m homebound, as for now. I have become so weak that I can’t even walk to and fro.  I can just sit in the chair, that too, turning more towards the left side. Why? Because of the damn boil! Oh, this small swollen thing has made my life pathetic. Anyway, I hope everything will be fine soon.

Day 26.365 - Republic Day (India)

Day 26.365 – Republic Day (India) (Photo credit: Akshay Shah)

Happy Republic Day to all fellow citizens of India!

Copyright © 2013 RAMU DAS