The Fantasy Mongers

Published: 30th May 2015 06:00 AM  |   Last Updated: 30th May 2015 12:32 AM   |  A+A-

Villagers are generally known for their appetite for fantasies. Recently, a villager near Guduvanchery forced the official machinery to dig a spot in the village. There were rumours about a young girl being buried alive at the spot by black magicians to offer a human sacrifice to their gods, in the village. A revenue department official and a police team converged at the spot. A team of labourers dug the spot. But what they could unearth was just the carcass of a dog. When the irate police officers started inquiring how the rumours spread, a man was traced as the source of all the tales doing rounds. When police questioned him, he said that he had seen a group of men burying something at the spot a few days ago, and showering petals on it. Hence, he had suspected it to be a human sacrifice. Well, all the rumours did was disturb the eternal sleep of a pet dog that was laid to rest by its masters!

Mayor Draws the Line!

Happy days are back on the floor of the Corporation Council. At the recent Council meet, victory verses were read out and the opposition was mocked at. The Mayor and dominant party councillors took turns to heap lavish praise on their party leader. Once the Mayor finished his speech, the deputy Mayor led the other councillors in embalming the achievements of their leader. One councillor took to crooning a popular song from one of MGR’s films. Another one sang a poem titled Power of 67, in which there were references to the 18-day Kurukshetra war that finds mention in the mythical epic Mahabharatha. He said it was similar to his leader’s 18-year war. One councillor even went as far as calling out to Lord Kumaraswamy of Pazhani hills before expressing his gratitude for listening to their prayers! As this went on, a few councillors started referring to an imminent poll and name dropped a constituency. An alarmed Mayor reminded the councillors that a certain ‘code of conduct’ was to be followed. He said, “If political statements had to be made, don’t you think I would have done it. So, when I am keeping quiet…!” and gestured the erring councillors to take their seats if they had nothing else ‘praiseworthy’ to say.

The Omnipresent Irony

Irony is not hard to find. From traffic cops parking their vehicles under no parking signs to doctors smoking themselves to cancer ridden lungs, it is everywhere. Usually, it is a cause for more amusement and scorn than sadness.

But occasionally, there comes an instance where irony takes on a tinge of tragedy. This reporter, while doing a story on a ponzi scam that defrauded thousands of investors, was speaking to one such. He had lost nearly Rs 6 lakh — saved, begged, borrowed and a heavy portion of which had been taken out of his son’s college fund. After this reporter had sat through a sad tale of hardship and debt following the con, he put this question to the investor — “Sir, didn’t you consult an economist or accountant before you invested in something that you yourself say sounded fishy?” A stoic silence followed before the sheepish voice answered, “Sir, I myself hold a doctorate in economics.”

Road becomes a Stage

It was a sultry Monday afternoon. This scribe spotted a man hurling a trolley load of abuses, pointing his accusatory index finger at a tea shop, outside a zonal Corporation office. Curious about what had gone wrong between the tea master and this unidentified man, the reporter moved in closer to check out what was happening. Turns out, the man was incensed at an evening newspaper flyer the tea shop had hung outside.

His problem? It had the mugshots of a veteran former Chief Minister and an actor-spokesperson of a national party instead of his leader. The choicest of abuse words was flowing out endlessly from the man’s mouth who, incidentally, was also very keen on letting people around him know that he was a lawyer. Soon, his verbal diarrhoea attracted passers-by and motorists driving by besides customers at the tea shop, and who had all stopped over to listen to what he had to say. In the end, the man walked away as if he had finished his cathartic release. The crowd too went its own way.

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