It was supposed to be a birthday party. Just another ordinary
birthday party. I begin this tale with the name of the protagonist- Dharma. Please, don’t scout for deeper meanings, it’s just another name.
When Dharma was born, his father in accordance with his ‘Dharma’(this one
deserves a little attention) had made a deal with the devil- not the
Mephistopheles kind wala deal, but well, you see- he burnt a snake, a scorpion
and a bad big poisonous beetle in the fire, so that...... His father did this so that if Dharma ever got stung by any of
these- he need not worry. The devil will see that nothing happens to him.
Negation of fatality.
Stories should be kept like stories. A storyteller shouldn’t be
a judgmental prick. I like saying this even in my worst days. To keep my
plastic idealism intact and with a little trepidation and honesty I must say
that- the logic behind such rituals fails me. But you might agree that this
birth act of Dharma’s father was indeed fascinating. What if such magic
actually permeated in the world around us, what if?
I don’t know, it could just be true.
This world is a weird place after all,
said the Neanderthal.
He also said, that people’s value should be respected, as long as they do not
interfere with other people. Oh, the eternal jargon of morality, of rights and
wrongs- not my cup of tea, so I won’t make further attempt in elucidating this. Dharma never got bitten by any of the aforementioned creatures,
so we wouldn’t know about the magic and the cynic in me for the sake of this story can pass such a belief as ‘superstition’. (For the sake of the story, those are the punch words here.) And the story involves a birthday party. Dharma was quite the star among his friends- social butterfly,
you may call him. I think he was an internet kid with lots of money. So one
fine birthday, he decided to invite fourteen of his friends for dinner. The
ones who weren’t invited were naturally disappointed. There were no girls
(pretty or otherwise) among the list of invitees but you’ve got to understand
that in some parts of the world they don’t allow girls in birthday parties.
Perhaps, this was one of those places, I don’t know, perhaps. But among those fourteen friends one fell sick and only thirteen
came. As you know he inherited ‘superstition’ by the account of genetics, so
the presence of thirteen boys was
rather a matter of worry for Dharma. The night had the all ingredients of
turning into something really bad- Dharma logic.
(While Dharma’s father’s superstition was more indigenous his
were rather exotic- generation gap and globalization could have been the reason
behind such differences.)
He needed another boy as a replacement. It won’t be much of a
problem. Everyone wanted to come to Dharma’s birthday party. Dharma got to work. After a minute long phone call- the chosen
one agreed to come. The chosen one was another fan boy who talked and walked
like the others-not much of an aberration, but he had missed out on the dinner
table initially on account of his softer voice. Dharma had to train him to be a
little loud. He instructed him very seriously that he was to laugh out loud at
every joke he was going to crack. The eating began, lucky stars were aligned, fourteen boys all
laughing out loud and eating their heats full. One particular aphorism was not
really poor by Dharma standards and even the boys found it a little hard to
laugh- but they still laughed anyway.
The chosen one, on account of his softer
voice did put extra thoughts on the mechanics of being loud and while trying
really hard with food in his mouth choked on it and fell dead and so there were
thirteen boys left again. In Dharma country ever since that day, there have
been no more birthday parties.
I wonder why.
Stories should be kept like stories. A storyteller shouldn’t be a judgmental prick. I like saying this even in my worst days. To keep my plastic idealism intact and with a little trepidation and honesty I must say that- the logic behind such rituals fails me. But you might agree that this birth act of Dharma’s father was indeed fascinating. What if such magic actually permeated in the world around us, what if? I don’t know, it could just be true.
This world is a weird place after all, said the Neanderthal.
He also said, that people’s value should be respected, as long as they do not interfere with other people. Oh, the eternal jargon of morality, of rights and wrongs- not my cup of tea, so I won’t make further attempt in elucidating this. Dharma never got bitten by any of the aforementioned creatures, so we wouldn’t know about the magic and the cynic in me for the sake of this story can pass such a belief as ‘superstition’. (For the sake of the story, those are the punch words here.) And the story involves a birthday party. Dharma was quite the star among his friends- social butterfly, you may call him. I think he was an internet kid with lots of money. So one fine birthday, he decided to invite fourteen of his friends for dinner. The ones who weren’t invited were naturally disappointed. There were no girls (pretty or otherwise) among the list of invitees but you’ve got to understand that in some parts of the world they don’t allow girls in birthday parties. Perhaps, this was one of those places, I don’t know, perhaps. But among those fourteen friends one fell sick and only thirteen came. As you know he inherited ‘superstition’ by the account of genetics, so the presence of thirteen boys was rather a matter of worry for Dharma. The night had the all ingredients of turning into something really bad- Dharma logic.
(While Dharma’s father’s superstition was more indigenous his were rather exotic- generation gap and globalization could have been the reason behind such differences.)
He needed another boy as a replacement. It won’t be much of a problem. Everyone wanted to come to Dharma’s birthday party. Dharma got to work. After a minute long phone call- the chosen one agreed to come. The chosen one was another fan boy who talked and walked like the others-not much of an aberration, but he had missed out on the dinner table initially on account of his softer voice. Dharma had to train him to be a little loud. He instructed him very seriously that he was to laugh out loud at every joke he was going to crack. The eating began, lucky stars were aligned, fourteen boys all laughing out loud and eating their heats full. One particular aphorism was not really poor by Dharma standards and even the boys found it a little hard to laugh- but they still laughed anyway.
The chosen one, on account of his softer voice did put extra thoughts on the mechanics of being loud and while trying really hard with food in his mouth choked on it and fell dead and so there were thirteen boys left again. In Dharma country ever since that day, there have been no more birthday parties.
I wonder why.
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