Pritam's Blog
Janta Curfew From My Balcony
Since the usually crowded streets were empty today, two kids from the neighborhood, probably eight and twelve years old respectively, decided to sneak out in the afternoon and play cricket on the streets.
I wonder if their parents were aware of their absence. Didn’t the sudden silence inside the house bother them?
Come to think of it, I feel they were aware that the kids were not inside the house.
The parents probably couldn’t resist the temptation of making the best use of the privacy that the kids’ sneaking outside gave them. You see, life with two kids in these small 1 BHK flats do not give much opportunity to even make out, forget engaging in full-fledged sex.
So, probably that’s why, they remained silent, pretended they didn’t hear the door, let them sneak out. What would happen? What could happen? Anyway, it’s 3:45 already. 1 hour and 15 minutes and then they will clap and ring the bells, and all viruses will run for their life, go back to wherever they came from. So, let them go out. Let’s have sex.
The kids started playing. An uncle ji, probably in his late 30s, who had been sitting idly under the shed of a closed shop, got a purpose in his life. He was getting bored. The cigarette shop was closed and he had no one to bully, you see.
He snatched the bat from them, asked the older one to bowl. The younger one was instructed to field, get the ball as fast as possible.
Few fours and sixes were shot. Another guy, slightly younger but lazier than uncle ji, sitting on his bike started playing the IPL tune in his mobile every time a four or a six was shot. You can postpone the IPL but what about the tune? And what about these gully crickets in the time of Corona?
And as the younger kid ran to fetch the ball, uncle ji waded time hitting an electric post with the bat.
Came another ball, uncle ji swang the bat and it came out of the handle. The broken part almost hit the head of another man in a scooter who appeared out of nowhere.
Everyone, uncle ji, the two kids, the guy playing the IPL tune, were mesmerized at the flight of the bat. No one noticed where the ball was lost.
Probably, in a drain.
Uncle ji called up someone and asked him to come for the match. He reminded him to bring his bat. Then he asked the kids to go look for the ball. Let them do the dirty stuff.
The kids went.
Meanwhile, he kept himself busy playing with the handle of the bat.
Suddenly, he noticed a dog passing by. A harmless dog minding his own business. That a dog was having its day isn’t something uncle ji could tolerate. He threw the broken handle of the bat at him. The dog yelped and ran away. Uncle ji chuckled. He looked extremely satisfied.
I hate humans. They are assholes by default. Coronavirus or not, they shouldn’t come out of their house. And the onus is always on them to prove any exception.
None of the characters here did a single respectable, responsible thing.
Disgusted with everything, I came in.
Next time, I went to the balcony, the cricket match was taken over by all the adults in the locality. The kids were still there; they were sitting under the shed of the same shop where uncle ji had been sitting.
I hate humans. I will hate them till the end.