Friday, July 18, 2008

Mule

We owned a mule together; he wasn't a fabulous creature. But, neither were we. And every time he three-wheeler honked, we ran to his rescue, thrusting his print-stained jaws apart to treasure hunt a spit choked piece of a movie poster. And thus we followed the entertainment news. We were intelligent. He brayed normally. Phew.
It was a tremendous task; teaching him vegetarianism. For he insisted on a juicy terrible intake of paper, despite the over-growth of random grass in our area that otherwise survives on rusty water from rusty lorries that dollop half their contents into underground tanks that were cleverly built as neighbours to sewers and half onto the regularly chlorinated road. We munched on this gift of grass while he was around; wishing he would pick it up. His nearly asleep eyelids reveal a line of eye-whiteness, reflecting a garish starlet cuddling a moustached man into her bosom. New movie!
Once upon a time, we garnered the wish and wonder to experiment stereotypes. A stroll to an everything seller gives us a Rupee's worth camphor. It smells its way to the gods that were built to customised belief, the flame breathing what is left in the sanctum, torch-lighting the god, organ by organ. Like a doctor. Ding ding ding.
The salty lump sweats in the heat of the day, as he grows smaller, younger, as we wait in envy, for today's honk. Evenging is heralded, as the earth breathes the day out. Enter a grubby woman slapping our mule's behind as he walks in, disappointed and hungry, a makeshift muzzle around his snout. A printer's wife, I presume. Or a rich mendicant with stacks of currency notes.
I was nearly right; she turns out to be a rag-picker. She leaves the room, momentarily satisfied at having muzzled out stiff competition. I help him slide his mouth out. He honks. And everything is normal. And now for the experiment!
I crush the lump of white and smell the room. I set the crystals on fire. And together, we
full-lung the smoke. The mule runs away. From the fire or from the smoke. Shit!
I suffer third degree burns, as the mule haws a cough. It sounds like a laugh. Bastard.

3 comments:

Akshaya said...

:)) :P Total!

Sap said...

The new look is good. Except the green! Dont know why i hate green so much!

Arun Sethuraman said...

@akshaya:thank you thank you! :P
@sap: hmmm?! how can anyone hate green?! :-S