No birthday today? Did none of those 700 Bhasadi-s land on God’s bony earth this day?And they think only their markets are down these days! Got to focus on my core competency then in these turbulent times:Save and savour-it pays to have a fixed deposit you know-the re engineered hole at the J block basement-Shh!Don’t tell Dingo, the black humbug is always after other’s prized possessions-but this hole houses my week long built up inventory,3 uncracked eggs that the Bhasadi-s failed to crack on the head of the hapless Bum-boy,2 leg pieces of tandoori from kavi nagar that I managed to set aside during one of their bashes, and to top it all-one broken shard of blender’s pride-to round of the festivities J
Boy was it difficult to build up this inventory!And add to it the strange things that these Bhasadi-s do once they have a drop of these Blender’s pride-s or Smirnoff-s down their throats.The other day, I was swiftly shifting one near-untouched leg piece to my safe haven, when the ever lusty Dingo came with teeth all-snarled and barking at the top of his voice-I gave it back in double measure-until-Oh Boy! Do I shiver even talking about it! There were the two of us-ready to pounce-barking as loud as we could, the prized leg piece lying in middle, when this Blender’s Proud Bhasadi jumped right in between and, I swear in the name of God’s bony earth, yelled and barked 10 times harder at both of us. Even more shocking were the other Bhasadis-egging him on: ”Go Fuddu Go!!” chicken leg jayen bhad mein,we aren’t like our feline brothers, to be blessed with 8 more lives-we both beat the retreat, tails firmly between our legs, even before you could say Zango. Dared not look back to see whether the bhasadi actually ate the piece after our ignominious exit.
That brings me to think-how hard my life in IMT is.These Bhasadi-s believe they are having a hard time in their lives-what with all these scorching summers’ heat and their sleek lappy-s recently facing the constipated feeling of ‘blocked’ websites added to the usual rush for their classes.Ha!Look at us!After every meal that they have, no matter how cutely I look at them, and wag my posterior extension, they won’t go further than a pat on the back of the head-when will they learn their marketing and stop selling?Give me what I need, give me the damn ice cream/samosa/aloo paratha/chicken burger that you have in your other non-patting hand and save your pat for Dingo(may be give him some of your Bumday bums?)
The other sad story is the false hope these bhasadi-s give me of a luxurious life.They opened some store, at the J lobby basement, the name nearly brought tears to my eyes,needz-i felt,finally,finally,they learnt their basics and will make a difference to their loyal, canine companion’s life.I walked in, rather had a sneak peak, and alas!Instead of the leg pieces and blenders they had soaps, cream and what not.I lost my faith on these needz evengelists-the only time they looked at me with some interest was during their blood donation campaign when their bhasadi counterparts didn’t turn up in satisfactory numbers-luckily,i seemed not to have fit their bill, or,else this story might not have seen light of the day.
Add to that all these diwali time flies that just add to my woes.As if the army of IMT wasps/flies were not enough, zillions of these irritating flies are really getting under my fur. And then there is this so-called sensitised IMTian,who again gives so much of hope through his promising one liner of itching me every night-I have waited with wagging tails outside every other hostel, no sign of him/her, this sensitised fellow is really insensitive indeed-promising so much and not showing up at all.
The worst part of the story is that I simply can’t leave this place. No matter how determined I become to leave it, someone in some room, sings those lines which I so helplessly like:”IMT Aao!”-One batch goes, a new one arrives, the middle one PDP-s them, and they become a part of the campus. I have seen it all-whether it is in a term,quiz, summers, finals or bum bashing parties, every bhasadi has his day-some time or the otherJAnd I live to find another leg piece-to pray for another bumday party-no yelling bhasadi-but one bite of chicken and a bit of Blenders and..