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Mrs Nobody Writes A Letter To Mr Nobody

Dear Mr Nobody,

It feels good to know that you are having the time of your life. How I know, you might wonder. Well, the last letter you wrote to your son landed in my hand. Perhaps you have forgotten that we live together in the same house.  He is not home, goodness knows where he’s gone; like father like son. And, ah, you write to your son in such a manner as if he is not a son but an old friend of yours. Shameless, utterly shameless you are.

It is a fact well-known that you do nothing apart from complaining all the time. I do remember how you used to complain about each and everything when we were studying together in the college. Everyone was fed up with you. Your very existence seemed an agony. But presently what a great change has come upon you. How well you speak of others (I mean of that lady of quality you mentioned). Sarcasm is your cup of tea, not mine. I will, therefore, speak to you in as plain a way as possible.

Tell me, did you kiss her? Did she kiss you? I mean, really if she wants to kiss you or something, let her do it. And let her do it in your neck. I can only wish, when she kisses your neck, she takes the form of a crocodile.

You say you will be staying in London as long as you please. I hope and pray to God that you will never be displeased come what may.  Well, I have nothing more to say.

Mrs Nobody

Copyright © 2014 RAMU DAS

Mr Nobody Writes Once Again

Dear Lady CR,

Ah! Don’t worry; I’m not writing to complain again (like I did in the past). You know, I’ve much better things to do apart from complaining all the time. Believe you me, ah ha, I’m writing this letter because I want to express my appreciation for all the things you have done for me. Only for me, he-he-he!  There is not much time left for us together in the college, and I don’t want to delay writing this further. It is now or never.

How kind you are Milady. No matter what people call you to your face or behind your face. What do they call you, anyway? ‘Fat?’  And do they describe you with some other words like: enormous, massive, large, mammoth, etc?  Well, they might be right but I don’t agree with them fully. The thing is they overlook the huge heart you have beneath your exterior. And that is, indeed, a matter of grave concern. But wait, does the word ‘fat’ really apply to you. I mean, you know, fat is bad. We don’t say ‘fat as a tiger’, we say ‘fat as a pig’. Now, pig is an ugly creature. Milady, you are not ugly. I would say you are powerful, well yes, powerful like the elephant.

When someone says you are weighty, I would not say they are wrong. Apparently, yes, you are. However, the word ‘fat’ is really not for you. I have observed – Did I say I’m a good observer? – how deftly you move your fingers. And you do carry your mass gracefully just like Lady Gaga (She has a funny name though. GAGA), and what with the mental quickness, and the agility of your body; you can sing and dance better than most other girls your age, jog some mile every morning.

When you have so many unfat qualities, it is wrong to say you are fat. They are all goddamned fools who call you fat. Believe you me, keh keh keh!

Anyway, I’m so thankful to you! My happiness knows no bound even as I type this letter, and that’s only because of you. I think my first letter – which I wrote a few months back – had a profound effect on you. I’m extremely pleased with your kind words, and the personal service you have provided me. You have also informed me about all the happenings in the college, about the companies coming to the college for placement.

But, my bad luck. I was not keeping well at that time. And when I was a little better I did come to the college to sit for the placement. But there, to my dismay, the Fernandez girl spoiled it all. Neither was she selected nor was I. Kiddies always do such nonsense things. Anyway, I can forgive her, she is a kid after all, and she is a good girl, her papa’s child. Though to the world she might be full of attitude and all that, but she is just fine with me.

Who really disheartened me is the Krishnan girl, that old queen, you know. Oh, what I thought of her! Oh how I liked her! But, dear Lady CR, that old queen is good at beguiling all men’s heart with her smooth talk. But, actually, she is a cold-hearted woman. She cursed me, and lo, I had a boil on my bum, and I suffered from numerous illnesses: cold chest, runny nose, high temperature, jaundice, and whatnot.

You see, dear Lady CR, I have become so skinny; lost more than eight kilos of my flesh, and that’s all because of that old queen. Yet, she is so full of attitude, didn’t even ask me how I was. Peace be upon her.  I wouldn’t wish her a boil on her bum, that’s very painful; I can’t see her in pain. But I do wish her boyfriend a big boil on his bum. I don’t know if she has an imaginary boyfriend or a real one. Ha… ha…ha!

Now, you must be wondering why I have not mentioned anything about your counterpart. I have this philosophy: things of lesser importance should be done at the end.

What was the word I used to describe him the last time I wrote an open letter to you, dear Lady CR? You see, I have a really poor memory when it comes to lesser important things. I think it was a slang word or something like that. Anyway, that’s not important; however, the word seemed to have offended your counterpart very much. A few months back he saw me in the college. I smiled he did not smile back. Instead, he gritted his teeth, shuddered his shoulder unnecessarily (just to imply how strong he was, I guessed), curled his fingers in his palm, made them into a fist as if to punch me hard in the face and quench his anger. But no, I was wrong. I learnt later that he does such acts when he has to go to the loo. When I asked why he does that, no one could explain the reason, not even his closest friends. Strange activity!

Another day, I saw him in the corridor. I thought I should approach and talk to him and bury all kind of grudges, if any, he had against me. His strange activity once again baffled me: he started dancing, rocking and rolling just like Prabhu Deva. Perhaps he had seen the movie “Any body can dance” and could not contain himself, I thought. Oh no, that was not the reason. He saw some pretty girls passing by, and, thus, was showing off his dancing skills. The girls seemed really impressed. Now, after knowing how talented he is, I’m his friend, or perhaps he would consider me his big fan.

“Hi,” I greeted him with a smiling face. I admit that was just a pretentious smile.  Ni-ha-ha-ha!

“Don’t talk to me,” he grumbled. The past incident was bothering him. I had to make things light.

“It’s ok man. Take it easy. I’m your big fan.” He seemed very pleased with the last remark. He started smiling. However, the past incident once again bothered him and his smile faded away. I decided to flatter him a little more if that was the only solution. “Oh man, you are really talented. You score such good marks in the exams, and, I believe, even Terence Lewis cannot compete with you in dancing.” By this time his smile came back to his face, and I added one more sentence: “How do you do these wonderful things?”

“I don’t share my secrets, do you understand?” He replied, boastfully.

“I see. Dance man dance. You are made for it.” I thought he needed some encouragement.

He looked at me as though I were an alien, and asked, very grimly, “Did you say ‘dance monkey dance?’”

“Oh no, I can never say such a thing to a great person like you.” I answered promptly, lest the great person should be angry.

“But you did write a letter where you used a malicious word for me.” I knew he would come to this.

“Oh my! That was just for fun,” I assured.

“No funny business with me, do you understand?” He bellowed.

“Yes, sir, I get you.” I was being as humble as I could be.

“No. That won’t do,” he said somewhat abruptly and added, “I want a lollipop.”

There we go! He was acting just like that Menon girl and that Fernandez girl whom I consider newborn babies. “Alright, here you are,” I said and threw a lollipop at him. He caught it just like Yuvraj Singh, the great fielder of Indian cricket team.

“Now I want a lozenge!” He demanded.

“There you go,” I gave him a lozenge. His catch was better than the first.

“Now a Pizza,” he said. Pizzas don’t come cheap, so I hesitated a little. His demand started becoming aggressive, “I will tell my father,” he said, “and my father will inform his friend who is in the police, and you would be screwed for writing that letter publicly.”

I had no other choice but to empty my purse and order a pizza for the great person.

Dear Lady CR, I think you must have grown tired by reading this letter of mine. So let me stop here, and this, I promise, is my last letter to you, unless situation demands. Tee! hee! hee!

I remain, ever yours,

Mr Nobody

Copyright © 2013 RAMU DAS

In conversation with Mr Nobody – Part 1

Interviewer: I’ve heard a lot about you; you know so many people say this and that. But, it would be nice if you tell me something about yourself.

Mr Nobody: Oh yes, I will. I’m the pain who troubles people at every hour. I’m the lover who has never been loved. I’m the humorist who makes people laugh, or at least make them smile. I’m the joy of life. I’m the air people breathe… ha ha ha!

Interviewer:  [That wasn’t funny at all]. Alright, that would be enough.

Mr Nobody: Don’t interrupt me, please. I have more to say. I’m the giver who has never received anything in return. I’m the fragrant perfume which people crave to sniff. I’m the jewel abandoned by people. I’m an old man, a phantom… ha ha ha!

Interviewer: [That wasn’t funny either. Why this damn soul doesn’t come to the point?]. Mr Nobody, I think…

Mr Nobody: I’m the satirist who doesn’t wish to be forgiven. I’m the writer whose writing people read yet they never acknowledge reading it. I’m the gentleman fooled by romance. I’m the poet who brings people delight. I’m the funny little mischief-maker whom people want to sue. I’m a tramp… and … alright, let me not say more. The list can go on, but most importantly, to tell you the truth, I’m Mr Nobody!  Ha ha ha!

Interviewer: [Damn silly creature, laughs for no reason]. I heard that recently an Organization came to your college to offer job, but sadly you could not get the job, is there any reason?

Mr Nobody: Any reason, you ask? There are many reasons. The corporate recruiters… ha ha ha! They were some buffoons! Ha ha ha… We are pampered and polished for three years in the college, and finally when our skin starts showing some appeal, some glow, you know, that may arouse feelings; the recruiters come and comment on our skin. If you have the skin they like, you are in. If you don’t possess the right skin, you are out. But mostly, it depends on the extent to which you are ready to show our skin, and I mean the good skin.

Interviewer: Oh, so you mean to say you don’t have the right skin?

Mr Nobody: [Damn it!] Did I say I don’t have the right skin?

Interviewer: No. But I thought…

Mr Nobody: You thought… ha! You know, it’s not easy to get a job. For if you really wish to get one, you have to shout and scream your lungs out (when you actually are supposed to discuss things like some good folks do), and stare at some incomprehensible questions on the question paper during the aptitude test and ponder until someone says: “Time’s up!” And within a friction of a second, you tick on the answers, uttering something like: “Inki pinky ponky…” or if you are in India you would say, “Jay mata di”.

To be continued…

Copyright © 2013 RAMU DAS