Friday, January 29

Ma-Riju-Ana.... a love story ,G - isshtyle !

i dont pontificate.So my life story ,as i am going to narrate will be a true introspection rather than a pompous ballad of a hero. I am malignant to humans, i am consumed by men who find me esoteric .I am a fountainhead of immense pleasure,of NIRVANA and untimely death.This story is not for people who are languid,goofy enough to neglect me ,incorrigible enough to consume me doggedly.I have raised men to unreachable success,i have fallen men to their ashes.Who am i ? I am Riju. Shah rukh Khan is my favourite hero.
Dhanbad was my birthplace.My native place is a paradigm of coal-theft.The coal theives prefer to consume us with their coal money. But i wasnt brownish when i was born.Like all the members of my species i was green in colour.The Americans are such buggers ,arent they? Prefer to omit "u" in such a small word colour,lazy creatures.Unlike the others of my clan i dont like americans. The field where i was born belonged to a bald old bihari whose fart smelled of rotten "muli", the cheapest vegetable found in bihar,sorry jharkhand.But that didnt stop me from polishing my knowledge-quotient which solely came from the "transistor" of the Ganja Bihari. I was apprehensive regarding the origin of my name,i pleaded to god that GAANJA did not originate from ganja.Now i know the truth . Thats why i am happy.
Ma ,wasnt mother india for me.She was just 3 weeks older than me.Ana was 3 days younger.From the 5th day of my incarnation , my eyes were fixed on Ana.She was the most greenly voluptous female of our "khet".And i was the most greenly muscular one.So whenever the transistor played the Sharukh Khan hit "Ana meri pyaar ko tum kabhi jhoota na samjho jaanaa....." She used to flutter her leaves in embarrassment and i used to whistle in G-for gaanja style.Mom used to be embarrassed.But alas we are stuck forever to where we incubate.So all Ma could say is "Barey badmaash ho tum...."(in case you forget from the film saawariya).By now you must have guessed that the only means of communication of desi-cannabies are bollywood numbers.Thanks to the "transistors ".
"Kabhie ana tu meri gali" that was all i could say . Time of amusement were over.The ganja bihari was plucking all of us and laying us bare-skinned under the sun to change our tan from green to coal black.I had heard(via transistor) that one hell of a human who gave a sudden shot of a dogs bark "AAUUUU" now and then had changed his tan from Black to white(skin pigmentation).I felt empathetic towards him. Even cannabies didnt like changing to a negroid tan.Racism was prevalent among us.The greens were impuned.After getting a sun-bath for two days my mother ,i and to my greatest disappointment Ana went "Black" .Naaahh not the Rani mukerji style, the "hum kaale hain to kya hua dilwale hain" one.
Polythenes are banned in the world of humans,arent they? but Ganja was oblivious of the fact.He stapled Ma, ana and me in three different plastic packets and kept us among his vast collection of cannabies .I could hear Ana singing "Soona soona mann ka aangann" .but her Saif s hands were stapled.But i sang back"Kurban hua"in G-style.Then came the police.
"Inspector Manish Dubey naam hai hamaar, gaanja kheti karta hain ,wo bhi bina license ke ganja kahika" India was the only country where you needed a license to grow a drug from a debauched politician who consumed them.
to be continued.......

1 comment:

Avarus said...

This, for me, is your best post. The style of narrating and the imaginative ideas make it a fun read. The apt allusions to various songs and 'humanizing' the plants were a treat. Looking forward to more such fun that distinguishes you from the rest.......