Confessions of a Dangerous Mind

Word of Caution – This write turned out to be way lengthier than expected. So please bear with it. You are most welcome to grab a cup of coffee in case it’s too boring. The expense is sincerely regretted. And yes, in case the vocabulary sounds TOO galactic, don’t bother reading. Spare yourself the torture.

It’s not often that you get to see people, who are closed like clam shells, sharing their most zealously guarded secrets. It’s probably even rarer that they don’t regret doing so. Such moments, whether better or worse, end up being so vital to us that they define the way we perceive life and its nuances. One such lazy summer afternoon, Kekda Man chanced to meet Chirkut Lady. It’s not pertinent how they met and why they did. What followed is of consequence. So let’s digress.

The place was slightly conducive to the chain of thoughts, if not remarkably apt. They had decided to stop by one of the coffee joints that seemed to have sprung up all over the cluster like monsoon potholes. The view from the sheltered patio was refreshingly lazy. The small round tables were evenly spaced out in three concentric circles, respecting the privacy of the patrons. Busy people hurried past the cozy oasis, lost in either telephonic murmurs or ill-suppressed suspicions. They never failed to steal a cursory glance, often mystified, as if uncertain whether their expression should be one of contempt or craving.

The weather was unlike itself. It had rained last night. The monsoons had finally made their presence known, after months of eager anticipation. The earth still smelt of the rain drops. The aroma was ethereal. A gentle breeze caused Chirkut’s skirt to sashay elegantly. Had she dressed for the occasion? Kekda hoped not. He looked his casual self, too informal for anyone’s taste but her. Maybe. The sun, who had been teasing some rag-like clouds for quite some time, had decided to finally surrender to them. It was dusk at dawn. Picture perfect. Well almost. The shadows flitting past the skies had managed to prompt an erratic thought process. Somewhere. God forbid.

Kekda had been doodling on the napkin, trying to give a face to his musings. The sandwich had turned out to be too bland for his taste. He knew he shouldn’t have ordered. Baah. Sometimes, only sometimes, he wished he had listened to her. Meanwhile, Chirkut had been ranting about her publisher. The lack of interest (and attention) had gone unnoticed for sometime. Then comprehension dawns, and silence soon prevails. He smiles in a condescending fashion and sighs as if his life depended on it. She could tell some disaster was afoot. Kekda was not in the mood to disappoint his escort. He starts off by becoming totally oblivious to any humane presence in his vicinity and then proceeds to engage an invisible entity in a dramatic monologue. We say invisible because it did not seem like he was conversing with Chirkut at all. It might as well have been a dog sitting next to him, enjoying its afternoon siesta while pretending to comprehend the rhetoric.

“You know there was a time when I had a major crush on this girl called Lewd Langurni. I even thought I was in love with her. She seemed nothing like me, a class apart I tell you. Lived on a faraway planet in Boomerang, totally inaccessible. I was just starting out as a Gila Fighter, hardly raking in any moolah. I started saving money so that one day I could get to meet her. I might still be able to dig up my collection box. Her boyfriends made me jealous (laughs). It was a very interesting episode in my life. Sometimes I think I might be even ashamed of it. But only in a good way.”

Chirkut looks as if someone had just slapped her for breathing too loudly. Then she opens and closes her mouth a few times. Finally, she manages to utter something weirdly trivial.

“Certainly sounds like one. Do you get to talk to her now?”

“It’s not a question of whether I get to or not. I just grew out of her. It’s a pity she still sends a polite hello sometimes. I just try to wriggle my way out of the awkward situation. Imagine liking someone you’ve not even met. Baah. Not that I regret anything. That time was fun. Although, a wiser person might term it all as immaturity. I remember spending hours talking to her and eagerly looking towards engaging her in some interesting conversation. I often end up smiling, if not laughing, whenever I think about it.”

“Do you think it was just some sort of infatuation that you grew out of or was it something more serious? Eww. This is turning into some kind of an interview. You know you don’t have to answer any of my questions.”

Kekda is not one to be flummoxed by such diplomatic statements. He looks at Chirkut for one long moment, searching for something he had lost long ago. He smiles to himself, as if a cherished memory lost in some forlorn corner of the past had suddenly revealed itself to him. An instant later he is his usual self again, careless, insecure, haughty, and tragic. As ironical as the recollections he kept only to himself.

“I am telling you all this not because YOU are here. But just because I had to. Anyway, I would hate to label it as infatuation or love. It was something that I enjoyed and that should be about it. Why should we seek to categorize it and then dissect its remains with some kind of surgical finesse? It could have been my loneliness, my inability to interact with my environment. It could have been my paranoia. The question is - does it even matter anymore?”

“No it doesn’t. Not now at least. This is really weird coming from you. You DO realize that. Don’t you? I am realizing there is a whole side of you I have no clue about. And yet I thought I knew you. Knew you well enough to like you once.”

“Yeah. But what’s wrong with that? I find it so irritating when people try to confine others to moulds that they have sculpted for them. It’s like they’ll freak out if one does anything which does not confirm to their notions. Life needs to be a bit more unpredictable than that. It should be a game of dice, rather than chess.”

Chirkut smiles fondly, more because she did not know what to say than anything else. Maybe that was why she had liked him. Would she care to ponder over it again? She hoped not. For her own good. For a brief moment she looked inane, like the several bimbettes whom Kekda had come to loathe vehemently. But the very next instant, he realized SHE would never fit THAT mould. Realizing so, he laughed aloud, his laughter ringing out, like a shrill whistle, scaring a few unsuspecting couples who were enjoying close proximity. Chirkut is not perturbed. She just clucks her tongue in disapproval. After all, she had come to expect such behavior from him, and adore him for the very same reasons.

“I did not mean to say that. But you seem to be in a weird mood today. So I won’t take umbrage.”

“Ah, the lady that you are. That word was pathetically British though. Somewhat like preposterous.”

“Gaaaaah.”

Silence showed signs of filling the space between the unlikely couple. So Kekda engages himself by observing the table to his right. A graceful lady occupied it. She was alone and wore a green dupatta (we still had those weird contraptions in the galaxy) around her head in order to escape the heat. A cup of cappuccino had probably turned cold due to neglect. A maverick curl had wriggled free of the fetters and seemed to be inclined on teasing her. She looked akin to a portrait of wait, eternal wait. Like someone who, by the constant telling of a lie, had begun to believe that it was the truth itself. As if reading his thoughts, she blushed, got up suddenly and left the joint, her perfume lingering on as she passed their table. Kekda gathers his incoherent thoughts once again.

“She was wearing chappals.”

“Yes she was. And it’s not a crime to sport them. Not yet. Maybe you’ll ban them once you’re done with all the Gila Monsters in the galaxy.”

“Hogwash. I remember going to my monster fighting lectures wearing chappals. I knew it was weird but I think I hardly bothered. I guess it had something to do with an image of myself that others had tricked me into believing. But given that, I would love to be as carefree about everything else in my life.”

“My guess is that you think way too much about everything in life. You can probably get philosophical about a door knob twisted the wrong way. You should be trying to have a lot more fun than you do. Why can’t you be a bit more, let’s say, like me?”

“Ah! The bane of vanity. I wish I could though. I agree that my mind is one screwed up place. But its mine all the same. And it’s dear to me.”

“I think you have a sadistic attachment to everything that went wrong in your life. It’s pathetic and amusing at the same time. I am trying to be sarcastic. And witty.”

“Sarcasm and Irony are wasted on me.”

“Ha. We’ll see Keeks. You know I am not one to give up so easy.”

“And I wouldn’t even try. I have decided to stop retaliating. After all, I want to be the tragic hero of my story. They are meant to be these morose, witty, philosophical, pathetic guys. I wonder why they are called heroes anyway. But who cares. Suits me fine. Ha.”

Chirkut gives up arguing with a disgusted humph. She tried speaking. But her words failed her. All imperative alphabets seemed to have been replaced by underscores. What was left behind looked like a brain teaser somebody had tried solving, and failed at gloriously. She shifted her weight from one corner of the chair to another, fidgeting over her charming dress. Kekda seemed startlingly nonchalant to the discomfiture. With a start, he gets up.

“I am leaving.”

“Huh?”

“This time for good. I need my tragedy to unfold. The world seems to be waiting. Don’t fret. I won’t forget you. You have helped me evolve in more ways than one. I’ll make sure you have first row seats to the show.”

Kekda smiles one last toothy grin and without as much as a glance back, he leaves. Never turning back. Was it a custom to leave without proper goodbyes? Was it again some reflection of himself he was trying to keep alive? Chirkut stays back for a few minutes, wondering whether their association had been more good than bad. Then she too smiles, recognizing the futility of it all. Being with him had taught her that. At least. They had both somehow unconsciously effected changes in the other. Where they for better or the worse? Would it help if one knew?

We think we saw her walking in the opposite direction. We can’t be too sure. We didn’t think it was important to know. It was the end of the saga of Kekda and Chirkut as we knew it.

So long, and thanks for all the patience.

The Episode of The Soiled Socks

It had only been one galactic month since Kekda Man had come back from his visit to Bugster and Boomerang had already begun to bore him. “There are just two suns and half a moon after all. What could be more boring?” whined Kekda. We couldn’t have agreed more. Soon enough, the monotony and the humdrum of existence gets to him. He decides to bunk fighting Giant Gila Strut Monsters and plans a clandestine trip to Bugster Cluster for very obvious raison d'être. Here’s an exclusive account of the escapade.

Glossary of Galactic Terms

Mogamboji
The patron God of all God fearing philosophers. Marvin Black was a very famous disciple of his during the early stages of his philosophical expeditions.

Class Alpha Space Jetters
A cheap mode of travel used for shuttling back and forth between galaxies and star clusters.

Clux-2 Star Ship
An ancient version of the state of the art aquamarine Clux-5 Star Ship. A public mode of transport.

Tedha Makdi
A struggling author, currently working on his book on Marvin Black.

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After a much harried journey in the Class Alpha Space Jetters, Kekda gets down at the Bugster space-port. Avoiding the much feared and even more reviled media scrutiny, he manages to call up Chirkut from a public phone booth. She’s already getting ready for the “baah” time. Pleased at having irritated her amply, he sets out for the rendezvous point. Chirkut’s late, yet again. She mouths some apologies which (quite understandably) fall on deaf ears. The two mull over some plans for the day over a not so delectable breakfast. Any clichéd suggestions are shown the door with alacrity. Being two of the creed of IC (Intellectual Chutiyas), they eventually decide to visit the tomb of Mogamboji. “It had been on the cards for some time now”, sighed Kekda. Chirkut was researching for her book on Marvin Black and Mogamboji featured prominently in it, being one his early mentors.

The unassuming couple made their way to the monument on foot, Kekda wondering half the time whether he should have opted for a Clux-2 Star Ship. The place seemed to have been maintained well, the corruption rampant in the Bugster Council notwithstanding. A sufficiently large mound halted their advance as soon as they crossed the gates. Soon enough, realization dawns, much to the relief of our flustered Kekda. The center of the mound had been hollowed out to shelter the shrine. As Kekda clambered over the hurdle, he found that the grass had been generously endowed with “hagga water”. Splosh. Splash. Squelch. Eww. Grrrr. The very fashionable sandals and the even more in-vogue socks were now a dark gooey mess. Cribbing over the fact that his new socks had been soiled by some despicably smelling fluids, Kekda blamed Chirkut for being the Smart Alec and opting for the indirect route. She just chuckled and hopped her way to the top, very much elated at the unexpected turn of events.

After much pacification and philosophical upliftment at the catacomb, both of them decide to rest for a while. A strip of green bordering the walls catches the attention of six untrained eyes. The grass seemed cool and green, vaguely inviting. The blades had been tried and tested, found to be palatable (!!), and then neglected with equal indifference. As the twosome made their way to a not-so-secluded spot under a skinny tree, Kekda debated over the nature of shadows cast by opaque objects, much to the dismay of his companion. We believe he gave up on the subject with adroitly suppressed reluctance. The breeze was soothing under the shades. Kekda discarded his socks, shoes, watch, wallet and binoculars. Lying there, they seemed like adornments that had lost the patronage of their owner. As people milled around and made their way to the tomb, they became the subject of some interesting conversation.

“In case you notice, that woman is wearing a dhoti. Women are not supposed to do that. Didn’t her Bugsterian escort tell her as much?” Kekda interjected after sometime had passed.

“How can you say so? I can wear whatever catches my fancy. So can she.” Chirkut argued. She was lounging with carefree abandon and seemed distantly beautiful. Meanwhile, a squirrel engrossed itself in a game of nibble-and-run with Kekda.

“It’s all hogwash. There are some norms we need to adhere to”, remarked he while trying to disfigure his toes into some diabolical shape and scare Chirkut into submission.

“Yap. Yap. Yap. The feminine kind has a lot of choice when it comes to garments anyway. I presume she just wants to add one more item to the repertoire.”

Silence, of the comfortable kind. A few whispers shied away from either’s notice. Then words coagulated to from meaningful sentences, providing more depth to conversation than silence had tried to only a few moments before. The mouthfuls of alphabets were streaming forth from different directions. She was gazing into the blues while he seemed enamored by the greens. They seemed intended for no one in particular. Yet the very act of letting them out seemed to be reassuring. Gila Monsters were debated over and so were irksome philosophers. To say time flew by would only add to the abounding clichés. Yet it did.

Ever since his arrival in Bugster, Chirkut had been pestering Kekda to visit her hideout in some nondescript corner of the cluster. Kekda was very tacitly trying to avoid the constant stream of pleas (as well as glares) that one would associate with the fairer sex. Eventually, he gave up, hoping the experience would be enlightening its own devious fashion. In order to speed up the entire rigmarole, they (read he) hailed a Clux-2 Star Ship. They zoomed over the roads, spread below them in some abstruse pattern. Now that Kekda paid attention, they appeared to resemble thousands of snakes writhing in agony, while paying homage to their benefactor through some ancient anguine ritual.

Fast forward to Chirkut’s abode. It’s a nice place, contrary to expectations. Kekda is impressed, though he hides the fact from the searching eyes of someone we know. It’s dark inside and the sun is almost about to set. The dying rays try to push their way in through the pale curtains. Kekda sprawls on the floor, exhausted and rejuvenated. Simultaneously. Amusingly. She fumbles around with the kitchen cabinet and (surprisingly!!) manages to concoct something edible. A glass shatters somewhere in the process, and some grumbling ensues naturally. The hospitality is commendable and does not go unnoticed by both. She is surprised while he amused (again?). The adequately delayed sumptuous (!!) lunch is enjoyed by both the involved parties. Or was it just one?

Food often ends up having the uncanny ability of opening people up. The same could be said that evening. Thus, while she relayed her apprehensions about her new book and Tedha Makdi, he worried over his exponentially deteriorating monster fighting capabilities. And yet, while both seem disturbed, a strange calm prevailed. The irony was almost sanguine. Kekda wondered whether that added to the beauty of the situation they found themselves in. Whether bliss is almost divine, and least ephemeral, when mingled with its antithesis. It was hard to fathom Chirkut’s thoughts. They seemed buried deep below the creases lining her brow. Kekda tried to make some sense of the pattern. But he gave up, unwilling to find something unanticipated and unwanted. We believe she realized the same, for she had tried to contort her face into a smile. Failing to do so, she fidgeted over the mess that they had made, trying to tidy it up.

Silence again, of the comfortable kind. When the time came to leave, none fussed over its dearth. The walk back was walked back. Neither bothered about formalities and farewells. Probably it was best that way. Probably it was only novelty that kept them going, time and again. We hope all’s well at their end. By saying we sincerely hope that the freshness lasts forever we would only reinstate another cliché. But then again, who cares.

So long, and thanks for all the socks.

Mundane Mediocrity

Kekda Man and Chirkut Lady had been conspicuous by their absence for quite some time now. Socialites in high profile parties had already started speculating about their much documented reconciliation. “Have they split up again?” wondered a few of the gossip mongers. Unfortunately, the publicists of both the concerned parties had refrained from confirming or denying any of the speculations, much to the dismay of the junta at large. Even Cheekat Aadmi (the instigator of the hugely propagandized tiff in The Episode of The Giant Gila Strut Monsters) had been interviewed at least a dozen times. Meanwhile, SleepingTablets was employing all its sleuthing tactics in order to lay bare the facts which had become the talk of the galaxy. It eavesdropped on a seemingly innocent looking electronic conversation and unearthed striking revelations about the current status of the relationship between Kekda and Chirkut. Here’s an exclusive account of the gup-shup. We let the reader be the judge.

Glossary of Galactic Terms (For First Timers)

Kekda Man and Chirkut Lady – We all know who THEY are. They are the very dangerous Kekda Man (from Boomerang Galaxy) and the very irritating Chirkut Lady (from Bugster Cluster). Obviously.

Languages - Batak Toba, Inuktitut, and Hutsi are all galactic languages, very much like our Hindi, English, and Marathi.

Space-Port – This contraption is somewhat on the lines of an airport, with the only difference being that it caters to space ships instead of airplanes.

State of the Art Aquamarine Clux - 5 Start Ship - Abey PSPO nahin jaante kya?

~~~~

Kekda Man – Why are you waiting at the space-port? I could have sent over my state of the art aquamarine Clux 5 Star Ship to pick you up. This confirms my doubts about you having no brains at all. I think.

Chirkut Lady – Uff!! You won’t understand. Forget it. Uhmm…Well let me try explaining. The space-port here is so white you know. It’s like all white. Unlike the one in Bugster Cluster or Boomerang Galaxy. And the people are so interesting. They look at you even if you clear your throat. How romantic is that?

Chirkut Lady

Kekda – Very. I find it vaguely arousing. Some people are probably making out in the washrooms, and plausibly there is a painter etching it all on his canvas. What are you doing anyway? Hasn’t the space ship landed yet?

Chirkut – You ask a lot of questions uncle. I don’t have the energy to either reply or argue. So I will keep it short. The ship is running way too late. I am very tired and very sleepy. And this place is bugging me with its incessant announcements about flights that don’t even remotely sound like mine. I feel like screaming. Very loud.

Kekda – That was a very long sentence. And it was in a language I am not very comfortable with. Do you mind switching over to Batak Toba? I have a hunch the emotions will flow way more freely, from me to you and vice versa.

Chirkut – Don’t talk rubbish. I know you understand Inuktitut very well. Hey…I just noticed. There’s chewing gum stuck to the chair in front of me. It’s very green and very light.

Kekda – Oh. The Gums. I KNOW the space authorities have deliberately stuck gum behind each of their chairs. You are supposed to actually eat them. It’s a very environmental approach. People get intrigued by the “very green and very light” gums and start chewing them. This way they don’t talk too much and mind their own business. Go ahead. Give it a try. Tell me what it tastes like. Mine seemed like it had been dipped in a solution of vanilla mucus.

Chirkut – I am deciding not to buy that story. It’s amusing anyway. The space-port is all very white and clean. Yet, there has to be a gum stuck to the chair I have a full view of. I find it very poetic.

Kekda – Count me in the poetic rendezvous. Let’s make it a bit more interesting. Describe the person sitting next to you only if she is a female.

Chirkut – You na. She looks like a mum of two. I am quite sure both of you won’t be interested in each other.

Kekda – I seem to have run out of luck even since I set my eyes upon you. Why don’t you ever get the hint? Anyway, there has to be some decent looking specimens in the place you have come to like SO much.

Chirkut – I choose not to tell. Do you mind? There are people staring at me because I am yapping so much in a tongue they are not too comfortable with.

Kekda – I suppose you should start telling them how much you adore their “white palace”. But I have heard they are very regional in their thinking. So proclaim your love in Hutsi. They will all do their biggest grin, walk over, hug you, and ask you to visit again.

Kekda Man

Chirkut – Aha, I see. So that is how you get all those people to bash you up. Thanks a ton for the piece of advice. I’ll keep it in mind.

Kekda – I knew we had run out of humanity in our part of the galaxy. I just needed to be sure. I am now.

Chirkut – Baah. Humbug. It’s useless even talking to you. You don’t realize how much luggage I am towing. I am carrying 7 pairs of chappals right now. That too in one bag (which I had to buy for the same reason). My shoulders are aching and the bones might get dislocated any time now.

Kekda – Finally, you give me some good news. I guess you have finally managed what only the ants have been able to do – carry more stuff than your own weight. Maybe I’ll report you to the custom authorities and they’ll keep you behind bars for smuggling leather goods. I wonder if they take bribes.

Chirkut – Shhhh. I think that’s my flight they are blaring about.

Kekda – Nopes. You are dreaming. Sure of it.

Chirkut – Ok, I am off now. I have had enough of your crap. I think the spaceship has finally graced us with its presence. AND they don’t allow us to talk once we have boarded the thingy.

Kekda – Arey! Don’t let anyone tell you what to do aunt. Here’s a brainwave. Keep talking on the phone. Probably an air hostess will come over give you “the look”. Pay no attention dearie. Keep yapping. This will cause another (and more somber looking) stewardess to stride over. But that shouldn’t stop you from exercising your right to express yourself either. Keep jabbering until the pilot himself declares that it will be either your phone or him traveling this night. Even then, make sure to declare it was only out of decency that you decided to hang up.

Chirkut – Blah blah blah. Is that all you can come up with? Trash? Anyway, they have made the final boarding call. I better get going now. Say all the niceties you should. For instance, “have a nice flight”, “call me up on touching down” etc.

Kekda – Yeah, right!


With these comforting words Kekda hangs up on Chirkut. We are not very sure but almost all the guys here believe that Chirkut’s last words sounded somewhat like “Whaaaaaaaaa”, with a little more stress on the A’s than you would usually accord them. We tried snooping on the same frequency again. But to no avail. Our technical experts are working on it 24x7. As soon as we will hear from them, so will you.

So long, and thanks for all the chewing gum.

The Episode of the Giant Gila Strut Monsters

Word of Derision – This is NOT science fiction. NOT inspired by dreams, true or concocted.

The very dangerous Kekda Man had been in the dumps for quite a few days now. It’s not that life had been particularly miserable and the subject of pessimistic research. The two suns shone brightly, set even more gloriously, and the half moon bathed the small planet of Dungbucks in a pale white soothing glow. There had even been a few highs. But he tended to ignore the highs which were not too conventional. And hence the dumps and the doldrums. To cap everything else, giant Gila strut monsters seemed conspicuous by their absence in the Boomerang Galaxy.

Exasperated by the monotony, Kekda Man decided to visit the Bugster Cluster in the western spiral of the galaxy. He asked his driver to ready the state of the art aquamarine Clux-5 Star Ship, his latest fad and obsession. The journey itself proved to quite uneventful (with the exception of the boring company of two philosophizing hitchhikers, Wholesome Hole and More of The Moron). Kekda Man was harassed by unrelenting fans as soon as he reached the cluster. But he was in no mood for indulging in stardom. He somehow managed to excruciatingly wriggle away from the mob and it was then that he decided to pay a visit to his friend, Chirkut Lady.

(Aside – Everybody knew that Kekda and Chirkut had voluntarily broken the pact (or more precisely contract) of love that they had entered into. Both of them claimed to be just friends now. To gloat over the details, please go through Love in The Time of Palmistry.)

It so happened that Chirkut Lady was doing some research on boring books at the Jhakaas Institute for Constructive Philosophy. Kekda Man somehow managed to get a ride to the institute (and more importantly escape recognition as well). Reaching the destination, he chuckled to himself and decided to act a bit sly. He smuggled himself into Chirkut’s class and attended the monotonous thing in its entirety, all the time realizing that fighting Gila Monsters did indeed make life simpler. The unsaid became the obvious. Chirkut Lady was quite surprised by the unexpected visitor. She suggested a lunch outing, but Kekda was in the mood for some musing and suggested something utterly rubbish. They bickered for some time and eventually decided to explore the lush gardens (inhabited by the endangered golden langurs), something amiable to both the pseudo-intellectuals.

But all great beginnings seem to have sting in their tails in the western spiral of the galaxy (they have sour endings in the southern spiral). It turned out that a certain Cheekat Aadmi had a crush on Chirkut and he seemed to think that the converse was automatically true. He had been informed of the presence of a prospective competitor by a certain malicious species. He winced at the sight of the two going around in the gardens, discussing the pros and cones of Constructive Philosophy. When he could stand it no more, he went up to Kekda and asked him to stay away from his girl, not realizing anytime that Kekda was very dangerous, even if painfully moronic. Now this quite obviously pissed off Kekda Man. He had had a harrowing day and just wanted some quality time with his friend. He therefore asked Cheekat Aadmi to funk off for two main reasons. Firstly, Kekda Man knew Chirkut Lady had the hots for Bhabhkan Bhai, a fellow constructive philosopher, and secondly, Kekda was just a friend to Chirkut.

The small amount of brains, that Cheekat had been gifted, with went into a hyperglycemic overdrive. He summoned his cronies, which fortunately turned out to be a few giant Gila strut monsters, Kekda’s favorite bad people. However, the evil guys were far too many in numbers for our Kekda. They surrounded him and began to circle him like African tribals doing some obscure ritual. Kekda was in a fix as to whether act like a hero (and a fool) and get bashed up fighting them alone or whether to act smart and shout for help with as much decibels as his lungs could muster. He sided with the latter and paged Bikaji, a well known goonda in the cluster. Bikaji provided illegal muscular assistance on demand. As soon as he got the message, he metamorphosed through time and space and appeared at the scene of goondagiri. That was it. Kekda found his (lost) valor and together with Bikaji, he beat the shit out of Cheekat and all his cronies. But Bikaji was no police and after collecting his 42 Clam shells as payment, he katofied from the place in the blink of an eye. Kekda and Chirkut had no inclinations to prolong the unfortunate incident and with one baneful look at the grossly disfigured Cheekat, they too left the scene of maara-peeti.

Left alone in uncomfortable company in a state of the art aquamarine Clux-5 Start Ship, the twosome felt, quite obviously, uncomfortable. Whispers shared long ago gained fresh perspective. The pact made while indulging in some harmless palmistry became a wound freshly rubbed. Not many had expected them to stick together. Their failure might have sub consciously been influenced by the opinion of the junta on the sidelines. None of them would know. They never gave it a second thought then. Now it seemed too late. Inhibitions needed to be shed once again. Weaknesses needed to be rubbed in. It seemed as if both were too them to allow the other this opportunity. Or were they willing to give it a fresh start? This time with more commitment than a childish agreement. It is only speculated that their silence must have done the talking. Pseudo-Intellectuals have been known to mess things whenever they think and talk at the same time. Reports to the contrary have not been unearthed in any spiral of the galaxy. Well, that’s how a highly predictable episode ended. Kekda confesses his (temporary) love for Chirkut, this time managing to make do without palmistry or any of the sappy stuff. Chirkut reciprocates the feelings, saying that Bhabhkan Bhai was just a rumor her friends had spread in order to tease her. Of course, we have uncovered an entirely different story. But even publishers resort to ethics sometimes. They wouldn’t be humans if they didn’t ;-)

It is said our man and his woman are still together in uncomfortable company. They bicker more often than they agree with each other. But the highs make up in height what they lack in length. We at SleepingTablets hope it’s more than what anyone can ask for.

So long, and thanks for all the monsters.

Love in The Time of Palmistry

Word of Caution – Excerpts of a conversation between the very dangerous Kekda Man (from the Boomerang Galaxy) and the very irritating Chirkut Lady (from the Bugster Cluster). The highly explosive couple was traveling in an aquamarine state of the art Clux-5 Star Ship. The uber subtle sound vibrations somehow got to the ever-ready-to-eavesdrop ears of the untrustworthy driver. It would be best if these snippets are not leaked beyond this close knit virtual clique. Confidentiality will be appreciated, if not rewarded.

Family Crest of The Kekda Dynasty

Kekda Man: Let me see your hand.
Chirkut Lady: And why is that?

Kekda Man: For one, my father has an interest in palmistry and I have learnt a few things from him. For other, it’s a very good excuse to grab a lady’s hand.

Pleased more by the honesty than anything else, Chirkut Lady obliges Kekda Man.

Chirkut Lady: You’re such a darling. Here. Tell me what you see.

KM: Hmm…it seems you don’t think at all. There are hardly any lines criss-crossing your palm. How do you manage to do that?
CL: Well…you know…you have got to have a mind in order to think too much. I think I have not been blessed with copious quantities.

KM: Ah…that explains a lot. Uh oh! It seems you won’t live too long either. But that’s a far fetched possibility since irritating people tend to live longer. I must have miscalculated some factor.
CL: Don’t worry dear. I am not going seriously consider an amateur’s opinion. Have your share of fun. You do seem cute while reading the palm though. Ever thought about opting it as a profession?

KM: Saving the world seems to take up all my time you know. It’s downright exploitation sometimes. Anyways….

Kekda Man gets a bit disturbed when his profession is discussed. He starts doling out one distorted piece of information after another, not sure whether he was talking about Chirkut Lady’s future or the Giant Gila Strut Monster he had killed only a week ago.

Seated in close proximity (too close in fact), Chirkut Lady smiles fondly. Some disaster is afoot.

CL: You know something Keeks, I think I am madly in love with you. Probably.

Kekda Man is not very eager to detach himself from the obstinate line across the palm. But such comments register fast and quick. Almost pat comes the reply.

KM: And I don’t. Does that help? Tell me if it doesn’t. I will frame it in a more subtle fashion.
CL: I don’t think I could have expected anything else from you.

Chirkut Lady did not expect such a blatant reply for sure. But she pretends otherwise. On the other hand, sappy one liners disturbed Kekda Man more than Giant Gila Strut Monsters. He reluctantly gave up the palm, not realizing a more fashionable man could have had the face instead. Anyway.

KM: See Cheeks (KM is just trying to get back at CL with a nasty nickname). If truth be told, I like you from the very first time I met you. But the fact remains that I am not sure whether I love you. I like you a lot though. I am probably quite sure of that.
CL: I presume you are never too sure about anything. So this is not an exception either.

Kekda Man seems bowled. It is indeed the truth. Fighting Gila Monsters was one thing. Deciphering emotions was another ballgame altogether.

KM: I believe I am too limited by these notions I seem to have. It doesn’t help if they are deeply rooted in my psyche.

Chirkut Lady is impressed by such heavy talk. She had not expected this either. She falls even more in love with Kekda Man.

As an aside - It seems to us she had not expected a lot of things.

CL: Try fathoming them Keeks. Maybe you will come to some conclusion. Try probing them.

Kekda Man tries fathoming his emotions (and probing them as well) and comes up with a plan.

KM: Okay. Here’s a deal. Since I am not sure, let’s presume we are in love with each other. You and I. If it all works out in the end, well and good. If it doesn’t, well then we’ll know our presumptions weren’t sound enough. This way both of us should be happy.
CL: You seem to come up with the craziest plans in the world. But I think it shouldn’t be any harm. Let’s do it. Presume we are in love, since you are not sure, and see if things sort themselves out.

KM: Excellent! So now can I go back to the palm reading again?

Chirkut Lady had expected something more romantic. But one does not have everything in the world. It’s called Balance.

And so it ended. Love in The Time of Palmistry. Don’t blame us if you don’t like the title. The stupid driver came up with it. He wouldn’t agree to anything else.

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So long, and thanks for all the palms.