Sunday, July 27, 2008

I Once Knew A White Persian Bull [portrait of a weird creature]

I once knew a Persian bull… He was as white as a blank sheet of paper and his brain was as blank as that same white sheet. It was a weird bull, a strange creature that landed in my life out of the blue. Pop! It was just there, suddenly, without warning or notice, sitting on its vast cubical 3ft x 3ft carton-box behind (I said it was a strange creature), smiling stupidly to himself as if seeing me had provided him with a glimpse of the nirvana (may be it did!); and all I was doing was quietly having my chai, so I didn’t see the danger coming (tragic flaw that led to my downfall).

It seems the creature had obtained a two way ticket from Hell to come into my life -and a few other people’s- so as to act as a Prophet on a two-year contract. Well that’s what he said, though am rather convinced the Hellians (inhabitants of Hell) could not take the non-stop hmmmm-I-mean-hmmm-I-hmmm-bla-bla-bla-ing that sprouted through his vocal folds like greenish-maroon shit out of the behind of a grazing bull; and they decided to kick him out of Hell, which was a good thing for he would at a later point meet his soul mate, the man, the false-god whose monstrous ego he would feed but not tame, Dr Raju Chacha also known as “Dr-I-speak-a-lot-but-say-nothing-at-all”. But I shouldn’t jump from the bull to Raju Chacha for the latter has a chapter of his own fully devoted to his over-bloated ego: I Once Knew A Man Called Raju Chacha.

I should say a few words about Hell though. Hell is a country found somewhere in a mountainous icy desert it seems, and the Hellians are slowly spreading over the rest of the world so as to take over. Quite sadly they built their first international quarters in Pune, the city where I am presently living, which explains how the deadly curse of the white Persian bull fell on me. There are a lot of controversial rumors about Hell, all of which are true: Hell is a country where you do not have a bath in days: the more you stink the more patriotic you are; the unmarried women of Hell are all certified virgins (at least so say the certificates accredited to them by doctors before their wedding); the major industry in Hell is make-up, women are expected to hide themselves behind layers of make-up instead of a veil (that’s what I call emancipation); queer people are simply hanged in Hell, or their sex is forcefully changed by the Hellian Government who subsidies the operation (Does that mean Hell is a welfare state?); but the major peculiarity of Hell lies in its people. They are all weird creatures in their own way: you may think they are demons out of your most terrible night-mares, those that remain hidden in closets that you never dare open, creatures manufactured by the disintegration of humanity and the fornication between brothers and sisters, human beings and animals, but NO! That is not the case. WE (you and me, provided you are not from Hell) represent the disintegrative corruption of humanity, the Hellians are the pure beings, the very first race, the unbroken line started by the first powerful unadulterated beings and the line is still unsullied till now, or so they say. But again, as mentioned earlier, all the rumors about Hell are true.

Back to the white Persian bull. Strangest of all creatures I must say… It did not have horns to start with (Gosh! No horns and no brains, what a combo!) but a balding head instead. A round ball full of air- some said full of sultry liquids whereas others argued it was full of empty words- on the top of which were small cropping of black hair, trying hard to come out of the empty skull of his… but well, I guess where there is no fertility, nothing (except bad grass may be) will grow.

What a creature it was! Its white features were most remarkable and from all angles (one did not have to pay much attention to notice) it spelled only one word: S.T.U.P.I.D.I.T.Y. His bushy eyebrows formed only one S-snake-like line, going from the top on one eye, descending on his nose. The Bull’s nose looked like a reversed T, straight at the top with a split down where his two nostrils parted in hatred for each other and fiery hairs expelled themselves out of those nasal holes, terrified of the shit that may spurt at any point of time, for the bull did not only speak shit, he also breathed out shit. And the notorious eyebrow descended from the top of one eye like a sledge down to his nose and went on to the top of the other eye and merged with his hair at this point. I must mention here that the single bushy eyebrow of this rather strange bull is of further interest for it seemed at times to slither from the left eye down to the nose and up to the right eye, and at other times it seemed to do so from the right to the left. I’ve deduced based on pure empirical observation (I should have been a biologist) that the hairy snake moves from left to right when in awe of actual stupidity and bullshit which he mistakes for divine appearance or charisma (often the ‘charisma’ of Raju Chacha argues the bull); and the right to left movement happens when he actually faces anything coherently intellectual and mentally challenging.

I would rather not describe the other features that were characteristic of the bull’s facial physiognomy and spelled out loud and slow ‘stupidity’ for each time I attempt to do so, I have a very strong feeling of nausea, and I once even puked while trying. So my own sanity and for yours as well, I should retain myself from doing so.

Oh white bull! White bull with rosy lips! White bull with rosy lips that had never been kissed, without any surprise, since there was always huge amounts of shit-words that perennially came out of those lips. At times the shit entered people’s ears and deposited itself in their memory, the recall of which would cause them to wake up in the middle of the night drowning in the sweat of insignificant words of shit, and sometimes people puked as well (I am not the only one). Well the lips may not have kissed, but the tongue did lick, and where it distributed and deposited its saliva was in the ego-box of Raju Chacha, his alter-ego whom he felt the amorous compulsion to suck up to.

May be its high time for me to explain why I call the creature a bull. May be the creature is not a bull after all, may be it’s a machine, a shit converter that converts shit into words, or may be it’s a word generator that just generates bla-bla-blas non-stop. But I decided to call it a white bull, a white bull without horns, without brains and without balls either (can one’s life get more tragic than that?).

Oh yeah, I just remembered! The day I realized he was a bull was when I noticed how his love for Raju Chacha took over his entire being in an orgasmic manner, like an alpha particle in an electromagnetic field, he would charge upon him; a bull with fiery eyes in the face of a young matador provoking him with a red drape. And thus was the rage of the bull. It would speed up and knock everything and everybody down till it actually reached its savior, Raju Chacha, and there it would suddenly turn into a sheep gifting its wool (and its meat) to its new master.

Should I have called this piece the white Persian sheep instead?

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