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Wednesday, December 4, 2013

THE CONFESSION : The confession of a clown prince.




“What do you mean by the lotus looked cool? You were supposed to hit that button with palm marked on it.” A typically popular non-Indian voice echoed through the large window of that lavish building. With the pitch and intensity of the voice anyone can gauge that someone is pissed real bad. But there was no one to hear that scream.
“But… but… but… Mommy it’s not my fault. It was so-so cute. I really wanted to press the button which you told me but I just couldn’t stop myself. You know I love flowers too much. I am really very sorry.” A 42-year old kid standing on kneels, pulling both his ears with his hands. Our reporter couldn’t recognize him but he surely knew who that lady was. He was stunned.
“You are such a stupid. Do you have any idea how big was that.” The lady snapped in wrath. She was furious like anything.
“Please forgive me mommy. Can we undo it.?” The kid asked though he knew the response.
“What do you think it is? A bloody parliamentary bill passed by cabinet which we can revoke anytime we want? No. It’s not.” She replied her own question.
“I am admitting my mistake momma. I am really, really sorry. I will never do that again, I swear.” The kid placed on his head as if making a promise.
“It’s Okay. I can deal with that. And yes, never make a promise that you couldn’t keep over time. Remember that.” The lady told her son as she ran her hands over his head in motherly affection.
“Please don’t do that mom. You are messing my hairstyle.” The kid yelled back.
“Awww.. mele laja beta ko gussa aa gaya.”
“Idea.!!!” The kid snapped his finger as if he found the cave of gold.
“Now what?” her mother anticipated another sort of crap provided she known him the best.
“I want to be the king.” His eyes flashed as he flexed his muscles.
“No beta. We live in a democratic country. You can’t rule here being in apparent power. The only way you can rule is by cloaking yourself beneath pretentious sacrifice and holding the ultimate power without leaving any clue to support it.”
“Just like you have done so far. Right mommy?” He jumped as if he cleared the N-th level of CANDY CRUSH.
“Hah. My baby is grown up now.” Lady mocked him fondly.
 “Yes mommy. I am a complain boy.” He flexed his muscles again.
She didn’t say anything. She just smiled looking at his kid whose mind refused to grow up 32 years ago. He looked so adorable in that milky white kurta. She even didn’t mind the uneven beard on his face. Although she always insists him to shave it but he liked it that way and she liked him so much. So it is there.

A moment of silence prevailed but soon broken by that childish tone of voice – “Then I wanna be a Prime Minister.” He declared.
“No son. I can’t let you become one. It’s too dangerous. Direct power as you know is like poison. Avoid that. And I don’t want any further argument over that.” She told him decisively.
He wanted to talk about that, asking her why to hear the same reason again for the millionth time. But he stopped himself knowing that the blunder he did today. He turned to leave the room.
“Now where are you going?”
“Don’t know. Maybe I should watch POGO or would study some more about Jupiter’s escape velocity.”

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Bhopal. Delhi. Mumbai. Thrissur, India
A grammatically challenged blogger. Typos are integral part of blogging