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Hi, this is somebody who has taken the quieter by-lane to be happy. The hustle and bustle of the big, booming main street was too intimidating. Passing through the quieter by-lane I intend to reach a solitary path, laid out just for me, to reach my destiny, to be happy primarily, and enjoy the fruits of being happy. (www.sandeepdahiya.com)

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Holi


I can remember one Holi. At least 7 or 8 years back. Drunk and mired in all bad colours like toads in filthy waters, we had hitched upon a tractor and went to Sonipat city to spoil the appearance of our friend's beautiful wife. After spreading disharmony in his household, we the lampoons were coming back to the village. Tractor was giving a stiff competition even to cars. We yelled at the top of our ebriated, coloured rascality. There was a scene by the side of road, which instantly gives a high to almost all Haryanvis. A man was thrashing his wifie. Possibly the result of an argument while they travelled on their scooter. Poor Chetak was the mute spectator to this gross act. But the hooligan-carrier tractor came to a halt and first instinctive reaction of my demonic friends was: 'Aur maro saali ko!' And they laughed at the scene.

As a presumably better educated human being my instincts immediately clobbered down the common Haryanvi instinct and I yelled: 'Aurat pe attyachhaar!' They respected me, those father-defying idiots. So they just jumped down and many heart-ful fist strikes found the man bleeding from mouth in just few seconds. The lady cried: 'Harramjado ye hamara aapas ka mamla hai. Ye tumhara jeejaji hai, aur Haryana police mein hai!' So all daredevilry was gone in an instant. The policeman was dazed beyond all limits. We just chickened out of the scene even more efficiently than a murderer ever did. My friends cursed me, ‘Your bookish ideology got us in trouble. It would have been better to laugh.’ Police in Haryana is barbaric. A bloodied policeman can get you in serious trouble. The tractor was mired in mud, even the number plates. So by appearance it just gave clue to its manufacturing company, nothing more. All nasha gone, we washed it cleaned in village pond and took a vow to send it to the sheltered barn for at least a month. I prayed to all my Gods for rescue. You would not believe what happened further. Next day, one guy from our beating squad was reading newspaper outside village. A policeman came and asked for the approach route to a neighbouring village. 'What happened' my scared friend asked. 'Yaar yesterday some goons on a red tractor gave a bloodied jaw to one of our policeman! Look at the guts!!!'