Prologue:
I could see me in her eyes in that sweet moment of silence. We were millimeters apart from each other. Almost kissed. The car honked; the lights glared and the romance came to an abrupt halt. She had to flee as the lady got down from the car and opened the gate. I stood watching the fat-man driving the car in. The kids got down as the fat-man finally parked the car in the veranda. The lady went ahead to open the door. The kids had a package in their hands which I recognized at once. Firecrackers: A package of terror and torture. The ‘festival of firecrackers’ was around the corner. I put my head (and tail) down and went inside my kennel. The fat-man, the lady, and the kids spoke something about my intelligence of recognizing the firecrackers and laughed among themselves. My head was still down.
The D(iwali) Day:
Okay, apparently a blue-coloured god slew a brawny demon long time back and about 16,100 women were released from the clutches of the demon. Great job. Agreed. You guys remember the heroic deed and celebrate it every year. Good. But why crackers? "Oh no! Here they come with the dreadful package" They seemed to have enough firecrackers to start World War 3. It was on.
I ran under the sofa set and tried to shut my ears from the outgoing pandemonium. I could hear a faint noise of chattering crackers. “Ra.One, come out,” the lady pulled me out from beneath the sofa. Yeah, Ra.One, that’s my new name thanks to a stupid sci-fi flick that’s releasing today. (Hey, don’t you dare insult my intelligence by asking "How does a dog know about movies?". I don’t know if the people in this house read newspapers but I do, every day. And this blue-coloured moronic robot or whatever it is is were all over the paper for the past few days. The kids get hyper whenever they see him and hence I’m christened Ra.One for the time being.)
The lady tied me near the kennel in spite of my vehement protests. Her reason: I may pee beneath the sofa. (Aw, come on! She should know I’m trained enough not to do that.) I sat there trembling with fear and shrieked every time a cracker was burst. “Ra.One, keep quiet,” yelled the fat-man. Hitherto, fat-man, my owner, hadn’t known that crackers frighten me and that stupid name annoys me. So, I yelled at him, for which he gestured an attack with his stick.
Meanwhile, the chattering crackers gave away to high-decibel green-bombs and bullet bombs that resembled candies. They were loud enough to make a deaf shut his ears and a mute to yell out in protest and a blind to be just thankful. The kids would go near the cracker and poke it with an agarbathi and run back. Nothing would happen. They would reluctantly walk back near the cracker and all of a sudden it bursts yielding a deafening silence. Occasionally, the fat-man would try and burn a few of them and fail miserably. This went on until the lady called out for lunch.
Fat-man’s really fat relatives swarmed the house for lunch. I couldn’t help but bark at them as they seemed strange and infuriated me by calling my name. THAT name. Some pesky kids, who accompanied fat-man’s really fat relatives found fun in throwing water balloons at me. I bore everything and waited for the chicken bones which I could smell cooking inside the kitchen.
Twenty minutes and 250 ml of my saliva later, the lady finally showed up with a bowl of… curd rice. Pish! After all that, I get a paltry curd-rice? “Ra.One really loves curd rice, you know,” the lady blatantly lied to another fat lady, who smiled at me for no reason. I returned her a cold stare. I vowed myself that I won’t touch the bowl of rice.
Two hours later, I was staring at the empty bowl, hoping for someone to throw a chicken bone. However, I only found a bijli cracker out of nowhere which burst a few centimeters away from me. The earth stood still for a moment as I gathered myself back to act violently against one of those pesky kids who threw the cracker. The fat-man came running and started consoling the kid, who feigned a cry. He picked up a stick and started hitting me for no reason. That was the limit. I decided to leave the wretched place ASAP. Dogs also have feelings, you know.
Epilogue:
She hid me under a van when Fat-man & Co. came searching for me. I felt sorry for the little kid who wept for me but I couldn’t go back. I knew they had enough stock of firecrackers and stupid relatives that would last a week. After ten-fifteen minutes fat-man gave up his search and I could hear the weeps getting louder. It slowly faded as they left.
We finally got out from the van. A new life in the wilderness was waiting for me and I had no one but her to help me out. She drew closer. We were millimeters apart from each other. Almost kissed. A shrieking rocket bomb exploded in the sky, making it colourful. It didn’t help the romance, though.
World without firecrackers is a much better place to live in.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Once again, the writer would like to thank you whole-heartedly for showing enough patience and endurance in reading the story. This aricle is a result of boredom on Diwali day (TV repair and the writer's environmental concern (read: financial crisis) prevents him from burning crackers). And, as for the social message that he tried incorporating in this story:
"Vedikadha pattasu
Karikkadha un kaasu" (Rhyming Tamil)
"Crackers Sucks
Don't burn your bucks" (Not-a-literal translation in English)
I could see me in her eyes in that sweet moment of silence. We were millimeters apart from each other. Almost kissed. The car honked; the lights glared and the romance came to an abrupt halt. She had to flee as the lady got down from the car and opened the gate. I stood watching the fat-man driving the car in. The kids got down as the fat-man finally parked the car in the veranda. The lady went ahead to open the door. The kids had a package in their hands which I recognized at once. Firecrackers: A package of terror and torture. The ‘festival of firecrackers’ was around the corner. I put my head (and tail) down and went inside my kennel. The fat-man, the lady, and the kids spoke something about my intelligence of recognizing the firecrackers and laughed among themselves. My head was still down.
The D(iwali) Day:
Okay, apparently a blue-coloured god slew a brawny demon long time back and about 16,100 women were released from the clutches of the demon. Great job. Agreed. You guys remember the heroic deed and celebrate it every year. Good. But why crackers? "Oh no! Here they come with the dreadful package" They seemed to have enough firecrackers to start World War 3. It was on.
I ran under the sofa set and tried to shut my ears from the outgoing pandemonium. I could hear a faint noise of chattering crackers. “Ra.One, come out,” the lady pulled me out from beneath the sofa. Yeah, Ra.One, that’s my new name thanks to a stupid sci-fi flick that’s releasing today. (Hey, don’t you dare insult my intelligence by asking "How does a dog know about movies?". I don’t know if the people in this house read newspapers but I do, every day. And this blue-coloured moronic robot or whatever it is is were all over the paper for the past few days. The kids get hyper whenever they see him and hence I’m christened Ra.One for the time being.)
The lady tied me near the kennel in spite of my vehement protests. Her reason: I may pee beneath the sofa. (Aw, come on! She should know I’m trained enough not to do that.) I sat there trembling with fear and shrieked every time a cracker was burst. “Ra.One, keep quiet,” yelled the fat-man. Hitherto, fat-man, my owner, hadn’t known that crackers frighten me and that stupid name annoys me. So, I yelled at him, for which he gestured an attack with his stick.
Meanwhile, the chattering crackers gave away to high-decibel green-bombs and bullet bombs that resembled candies. They were loud enough to make a deaf shut his ears and a mute to yell out in protest and a blind to be just thankful. The kids would go near the cracker and poke it with an agarbathi and run back. Nothing would happen. They would reluctantly walk back near the cracker and all of a sudden it bursts yielding a deafening silence. Occasionally, the fat-man would try and burn a few of them and fail miserably. This went on until the lady called out for lunch.
Fat-man’s really fat relatives swarmed the house for lunch. I couldn’t help but bark at them as they seemed strange and infuriated me by calling my name. THAT name. Some pesky kids, who accompanied fat-man’s really fat relatives found fun in throwing water balloons at me. I bore everything and waited for the chicken bones which I could smell cooking inside the kitchen.
Twenty minutes and 250 ml of my saliva later, the lady finally showed up with a bowl of… curd rice. Pish! After all that, I get a paltry curd-rice? “Ra.One really loves curd rice, you know,” the lady blatantly lied to another fat lady, who smiled at me for no reason. I returned her a cold stare. I vowed myself that I won’t touch the bowl of rice.
Two hours later, I was staring at the empty bowl, hoping for someone to throw a chicken bone. However, I only found a bijli cracker out of nowhere which burst a few centimeters away from me. The earth stood still for a moment as I gathered myself back to act violently against one of those pesky kids who threw the cracker. The fat-man came running and started consoling the kid, who feigned a cry. He picked up a stick and started hitting me for no reason. That was the limit. I decided to leave the wretched place ASAP. Dogs also have feelings, you know.
Epilogue:
She hid me under a van when Fat-man & Co. came searching for me. I felt sorry for the little kid who wept for me but I couldn’t go back. I knew they had enough stock of firecrackers and stupid relatives that would last a week. After ten-fifteen minutes fat-man gave up his search and I could hear the weeps getting louder. It slowly faded as they left.
We finally got out from the van. A new life in the wilderness was waiting for me and I had no one but her to help me out. She drew closer. We were millimeters apart from each other. Almost kissed. A shrieking rocket bomb exploded in the sky, making it colourful. It didn’t help the romance, though.
World without firecrackers is a much better place to live in.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Once again, the writer would like to thank you whole-heartedly for showing enough patience and endurance in reading the story. This aricle is a result of boredom on Diwali day (TV repair and the writer's environmental concern (read: financial crisis) prevents him from burning crackers). And, as for the social message that he tried incorporating in this story:
"Vedikadha pattasu
Karikkadha un kaasu" (Rhyming Tamil)
"Crackers Sucks
Don't burn your bucks" (Not-a-literal translation in English)
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