Dud Sea Scrawls The Writing, clearly, is not on the wall!

Overture :
The sutler sat in front of a colorful quilt spread on the footpath, peddling postiche artifacts, a la Honest Abdul. Most of the passersby, in their weltschmerz, did not even notice him or his wares. Once in a while, he would open his truttaceous mouth to spew out a stream of pan masala juice. Having nothing better to do on a Sunday afternoon and my recusant behavior having alienated my latest girl, I felt I should confabulate with him. This eapilotade is a result of that shmooze.

Introductory chorus :

Have my love
It fits you like a glove
Join my dream, tell me yes
Bail out should there be a mess
The pieces you don’t need are mine

Take my time
I’ll show you cloud nine
Take my smile and my heart
They were yours from the start
The pieces to omit are mine

Have my love
Use it while it does you good
Share my highs but the times
That it hurts pay no mind
The pieces you don’t need are mine

I’ll see you there on cloud nine

Take my hope
Maybe even share a joke
If there’s good to be shown
You may make it all your own
And if you want to quit that’s fine
While you’re out looking for cloud nine*

“That is a song from the first pirated tape I sold, a PMT, had smuggled it from Malaysia” said the sutler, as he passed me a glass of negus, “has nutmeg, good for digestion, may taste a bit weird and mildly intoxicating if you are not used to it, but trust me, no one’s ever died drinking this… as yet… but there’s always a first time”. A nudge and a wink to make sure I took that lightly. “Don’t look so surprised, I not only know the Beatles, but Jimi Hendrix, Elvis the Pelvis and Tennessee Ernie Ford too… used to sell records in my first job”
He brings his mouth close to my ears conspiratorially: “want to lay your hands on something beyond your wildest dreams?”
Feigning excitement, I ask him, “can you bring Pam Anderson here right now?”
“ha!!!” he smirked, “no!!! silly boy, guess you have never seen Vithalacharya’s fantasies, like ‘jagan mohini’, ‘gandharva kanya’ or ‘madana manjari’; tsk tsk, you’d not ask for Pam if you had… but that is besides the point, tell me, do you want to experience something you’d never even have dreamt of?” Having read ‘The pterodactyl’s egg’ by Satyajit Ray I am skeptical of all such offers, I hesitated. I guess he read that in my face; “come now, you wont have to pay a paisa for this, what are you afraid of?” he continued “perhaps it is destiny that you chose to speak to me today, I have seen you watching me intently many days and making sketches of me. You are an artiste and I am sure you will preserve what I am about to give you. I am leaving town tomorrow and do not want to carry these…” he took out a pair of beautiful clay statues.

Act I
A week later in my cenacle: Early morning, I was walking up to the bath in a stupor because of calenture when I felt a wisp of cool breeze brush against me and heard the beccafico sing. I felt that it was the Terpsichore that had come visiting me and I made a series of rhythmical steps in time to music. A steaming hot cuppa in hand, I ignored the unfinished pencil sketch I was doing and started an arfé on a furfuraceous handmade paper, sitting on the windowsill watching the waves break over sands…

Act II
Woh Jo Ab Kahin Nahin Hai
Uspe Bhi To Yakin Nahin Hai
Rehta Hai Jo Phalak Phalak Pe
Uska Ghar Bhi Zameen Nahin Hai
Akal Ka Khayal Agar Woh
Shakal Se Bhi Haseen Nahin Hai
Pehle Har Jagon Par Tha Woh
Suna Hai Ab Woh Kahin Nahin Hai **

The song repeats itself, I use roast coffee beans, water, fingers, toothpick, forks and strigil to create I know not what. I don’t know how or why, there is a strange calmness. I don’t miss the restlessness of the last few years and feel blissful. I don’t miss the pain of parting with the one girl whom I had come close to getting married. I don’t miss my daily dose of Pink Floyd and grass nor the friends who had a incessant supply of that. It was almost like an intended Staphylotomy ending up as a lobotomy and disconnecting my past.

Intermission

*George Harrison, Cloud Nine, Cloud Nine
** Gulzar, ‘bhala bura’, Aks OST

Written in response to B2