Potli Wale Baba

guchcha hai bhai guchcha hai
kahaniyo ka guchcha hai
kahani le lo...

khatti ho to namak laga ke
khatti ho to namak laga ke
gale mein atke paani
kahani le lo...

His mind had left the room and decided to go into an overdrive. He watched wistfully as it left the confines of the four walls. The room had relapsed into silence, once again. Well, almost. The only other soul had decided to tease his dream girl. On the other hand, he thought he never dreamt, neither in colour or white. So he had trouble imagining himself planning clandestine meetings with the love of his life. Often giving up in exasperation, he resorted to the comfort of yellow light. It smoothed the creases the day that had just passed had gifted him with. The soft notes playing in the background eased the transition into a different mode. The words seemed to be coming from a parallel universe. They spoke of exotic lands and romantic getaways. Sometimes, they whispered about woes and longing. However, he tricked himself into believing in them all. Not a soul objected. After all, his reason had just departed through the window for a game of poker with the stars.

Sometimes, his reason, sensing something wrong down below, sent his minions to check up on him. They usually arrived in all their pompous glory, not troubling with the much needed subtlety. Finding him alone and puzzled at the sudden fanfare, they would take pity on him and tell him stories about poker games and how his reason had often cheated and yet managed not get beaten up for it. It seemed as if hIS reason was a celebrity among the minions. So he began to take them from granted and believed they were just trying to get into his good books. But he was no fool to become too complacent. He listened to the tales from the other universe, rapt in attention. When they pompous guests had left, he sold their anecdotes as his own, not bothering with even copyright issues. He was never very creative to begin with. So his conscience never bugged him about the literary blasphemy. When the reason returned late into the night, he had already done the dirty deeds. He sniggered at his own smugness. Fooling one's own reason was a commendable job.

He went about his day in hurried eagerness. The minions would be back again, with more scandals. He had to prepare for their arrival. It seemed as if both needed the other's company. He yearning for it probably a bit more than them. After all, they had other windows they could slide into. But there was something about his yellow window of light that did the trick for them, time and again. We have heard rumors that he still sits there, waiting for the minions with their endless tales. We speculate that they never disappoint their strange companion.