Kallola

Shikari Shambhu’s all worked up: he’s seen some felines prowl. His cuppa tea still steams the cup But Shambhu’d rather growl. All geared up from head to boot, Rifle on shoulder, he’s ready to shoot. One look to his left, he glints to his right. He huffs and he puffs- oh! what a brave sight!! Behind that bush… Right down the hill… He tweaks his mush all set for the kill. Slowly and slowly he goes all the way. He thinks of nothing holy while barging through the hay. A whisp in his ear, an ant up his leg, a shriek from the rear, makes him stumble on a keg. Pinned on the ground there’s a brief coloured pink, with hearts inside round and squares and in link. But Shambhu is now blind with a rage young things dread, unless they’re the kind that yearns for his tread. Back-up comes quite soon enough, with bricks and bats in place. They pounce on pairs whose luck runs tough and rejoice in their disgrace. But the Ranger finds this errant boy and pulls his dipped hat straight. Not spared, were tho...

Complete with song, dance and fabulous midnight fireworks, we bought in the new year, even this time, with much frolic and fanfare. Against my own expectations and to the surprise of a few others, the undeniable (thankfully waning) fear set in our consciousness was relegated to an external cache, not particularly sought after. While the DJ unleashed his music and our facial contortions suitably magnified heroic gesticulations, many minds were thinking the same thought: the crowd turnout was less than half of what has hit the dance floors on this evening every previous year. Though it gave us more room to flail about, it was also perturbing to a point − would the evening be reported as merry in the morning papers and would the New Year truly be Happy. At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world hardly slept, a geyser of fireworks lit up the sky and bouquets of colourful sparks drizzled over the larger grounds beyond. Stringent army and police cordons ensured that all roads were s...