Of Life and All Else...

In the beginning of this world, there were only two Dases - Adidas and Bindas. Adidas worked very hard and went on to become a famous name. Bindas also worked hard and reached a point of absolute blitheness.

Bindas acquired a state of being, in which a person contracts a dangerously carefree mentality, so much so that he had become the envy of the entire world (no, he was not an American so the 'world' actually also refers to that part outside the land of the free and the home of the brave). He was always happy, always cheerful, always the life of a party, and always the envy of everyone around. Wherever he went, people wished they could be like him. He had no care in the world, yet he seemed to care for everything. And, then came the culprits - the girls.

As has been the undoing of many a king and their kingdoms, he was enamoured by the charms of a woman. It was sudden. No one saw it coming. He was on one of his worldly sojourns, and dhup, bhup, galup! Her grace and charm hit his pure, unstained, untouched, untainted, chaste heart like a bolt of lightning hits the only bloke who does not see it. Well, they don't say, "He who sees, survives", for no reason. BTW, that last part was the gyan that one of my teachers had given me when Ashoka (no, not Asoka - no offence to SRK though I hope he takes it, and more, after the schtick he calls Main Hoon Naa) was the King of India.

But, I digress. Not by much, but I digress. Zzzooom, booooom, kaboooom! Now, we are back on track... Um... Where were we? Oh, yes. The girls. Not that there is anything inherently wrong with the female of the species (that does not necessarily mean that the converse is automatically true - there is insufficient data to corroborate the theory), but there are times when testosterone just plain gives up in the presence of estrogen and progesterone, a case in point being Katrina Kaif on DC billboards. Even Vishwamitra was not immune to the allure of Maneka. Bindas was, after all, mere mortal.

So, who could do this to the cynosure of all eyes? No, I am not talking about me. She was what one of those cheerleader-type-A-groups in Hollywood teen flicks calls a geek. You see, of all his faults the one that you could absolutely not ignore was his complete lack of appreciation for outward appearances of other people. He thought that the person inside was all that mattered. Wwwuuuyyyaaa! What a lame thing to do. Could someone pass me the barf bag?

Anyway, the ship had sailed. Now, Bindas' primitive cerebral stem had taken over the functioning of his soul. He learnt dancing so that he could ask her out. He learnt to sing so that he could sweep her off her feet. He had commited the cardinal sin of wooing a woman, and for that he had to pay.

He paid a huge price alright. He got her to marry him. The last time I checked, he was still paying.

There lived a man, a long, long time ago in a country far, far away. He was a good man. Of course, he had also succumbed to the lure of youthful indiscretion but now he was, for all purposes, a good man. He helped people who could not help themselves (sometimes even those who could and that always led to a black eye or two, but, like I said, his intentions were good). He was always there when anyone needed a shoulder to cry on. So, what if he was the very reason they needed that shoulder in the first place? Atleast, he was there when needed most and that speaks volumes of his compassionate nature.

He never lied to or deceived anyone - he did not have to. His brute strength enabled him to fleece them openly. It is still, however, noteworthy, that he did not have to stoop to the level of a backstabber. Wherever he went, he roused the strongest of feelings in people towards him, not that all were those of love and respect but there was awe in them, nonetheless. He spread happiness around - his happiness, that is. But, all that was to change in the winter of the following year.

On that fateful day, he suffered an irreplaceable loss, a loss that though did not hamper his life deeply did cause certain moments of discomfort. Who could be so cruel to him? Why would anyone deceive him? What had he done so wrong that someone would be barbaric enough to steal his trusted paperweight?

That transformed the way he looked at life. He did not believe in integrity anymore. He began to think that the world was a good place for only those who could lie, cheat and decieve. There was no place in it for a man who never had to resort to uncouth means to get what he wanted. In short, he had thought that terrorising people was all that was required to have your way.

And, when a man goes through a phase in his life he realises that whatever ideals had guided his life so far were nothing but false, then everything that he has believed in thus far has no meaning to him anymore. He was not his self anymore - oh yes, he had his way but the sting had doubled.

Could you blame him? Ask anyone who needs a paperweight during a sandstorm. Those thin sheets can be quite a devil then. They go all over the place and it is a harrowing experience gathering them up, only to find out that you have to do it all over again. These flying objects can take the form of a dangerous projectile and cause numerous papercuts. An injured man is always bound to strike back hard.

Now, he could only wait. And, hope that someday he would find what he had lost. Or better still, the rat responsible for it.