Funny things happen. No, this is not Cpt. Obvious speaking. But yea, funny-weird-diabolical-sad things do happen. About three days back, as i woke up, ideally just minutes before lunch hour*, my roomie suggested momos. So downstairs i trod to "go get some" in a very "stay-give-some" stage of body and mind. The momo walla spiked hair dude was not to be found - yeah man, we got momo wallas with gelled hair humming to classic rock tunes, whatchYOU got bitch?! Huh? Anyway, he was nowhere. Bread Omlette it is then. Again. Fine, so no hummed version of "Light my fire" today. I can live.
Right when i'm done paying the bread omlette dude, for the royal half hour dish he cooked, i hear humming. Not 'The Doors'. Even better. It's Michael Jackson's 'Black or White'...i turn around and there he was. Carrying the steam cooker type of thing on his shoulder and nodding at me. 'Mar gaya na woh? So Bad, man, So bad.' he says...i can do nothing but smile, and acknowledge the passing of our dearly departed King. The humming continues. I chat with this guy for about ten minutes, while he heats up the momos. The topic of conversation ranges from Michael Jackson to......well, just MJ actually. Oh wait, there was a bit about grass, but i guess that would fall under MJ as well. Suddenly all those celebrity interviews on Larry King Live about Jackson's death..and life, seemed fake. Here was this guy, many thousand miles from California, heating up momos, and telling me with a sad smile on his face, how he bunked school back in his village and danced to 'Thriller' and the rest, songs he had on this duplicate cassette he says. Surreal, that's how i felt. Oh wait, roomie's hungry and i too. Packed two plates of hot steaming chicken momos
and hurried upstairs. As we enjoy the food, i couldn't stop thinking about a kid in a hillly nepali village having the time of his life, in that very exact moment, trying moonwalks and being aloof to this crazy hazy world...i was literally there. watching, smiling, smoking....total trip.
As we shared the last piece, suddenly i was pulled back to real life. No, it wasn't the momos running out but the packet the nepali MJ had packed them in.. the packet was probably one of many unused ones from some drug company. Nothing to worry about, right?..well, not if the label says "Parson's Lubricating Jelly". 'Unused' was and has never been a more important criteria ever.
*lunch hour is any time i wake up.
Charagh Raushan Hain...A poem for a friend from AMU - *For Qazi Suhaib, upon receiving an SMS from him* (An old page from the diary springs a poem, dated January 25, 2004) Mere rafeeq, mere dost, mere Qaz...
1 week ago