Okay. There are some things which I can barely keep inside. No matter how stinky, some things just have to COME out. Like a channa bhatura fart. It MUST come out.
So here it goes.
Back in college, there used to be a small shop right outside the gate. Selling everything from maggi and cool drinks to soap and shampoo. The shopwoman had a daughter and a tiny son. The kid would sleep on a makeshift cradle right next to the shop.
The daughter, barely five or six years old, would patiently fan the baby in the afternoon. She had one of those fans which some corn sellers use. A simple, flat piece of jute or twine or whatever connected with a long handle.
One, hot afternoon I was having my coke outside the shop (gotcha) sweating and cursing the humidity. The daughter was fanning away and the little baby boy was sleeping.
Something evidently distracted the girl and the trajectory of the fan changed. Now it passed dangerously close to the baby boy’s pee-pee. It would nip it once in a while.
So imagine this innocent, distracted six year old fanning her younger brother. Looking all around her and taking in the world through a six-year old’s eyes.
And the baby boy would give a slight shudder of fan every time the fan would nip his pee-pee.
And the girl kept fanning.
And the boy kept shuddering.
When I realised what was happening, half the coke came outta my nose (gotcha again). The other half was spat out.
I think I must have laughed forever.
In other news, I learnt that one of the ways ToI kills the competition is by offering these supplementary pages like Mumbai Mirror or Bangalore Mirror. The idea being that the reader spends so much time going through these that there is barely enough time to read any other newspaper.
I thought that was just brilliant.
Also, it made me full important and all. People are spending millions for a minute of my time. Full sexy.