And he was gone. The parodist who wrote all that funny stuff, the blogger who they had all come to know and love so well – he was gone! No post, no comment, no likes, nothing!
He was gone for 20 hours!
And then he reappeared. Like he was never gone.
It’s a miracle!
It’s a miracle…performed by a certain wire-stealing gentleman who answers to the name Charasi (pothead!) Last evening when I left to go vegetable-shopping to the Friday-bazaar, I had no idea that I would soon be witnessing this miracle.
On my way to the market, I saw these guys who work for our Internet Service Provider. They were lurking in the shadows near the park that’s opposite our lane. I was mildly acquainted with one of them so I shot him a smile. He raised a finger to his lips, asking me to stay shushed-up, and then pointed at a guy who was slinking about.
“Sala Charasi! He wants to cut the wire!”
“The wire of the Internet?” I asked, wondering if this sort of thing actually happened. But then why not? Though the optical fiber cables run safely under the ground, they have those junction-points built at various spots. There on, the cables become airborne for a distance of 100 to 200 yards, until they reach the houses. But then if car-tires, gate-lights, even park-grills get stolen, stealing Internet wires could simply be defined as – progress!
“We are waiting for him to make the move. If we catch him red-handed, we’ll beat him black and blue,” he said.
“Don’t beat him…just hand him to the police,” I said.
“Police?” he snickered. They all snickered. I know I must’ve sounded like an idiot. Our police force is a busy lot. If they hauled someone to the police station for something as trivial as stealing a piece of wire, the police would probably lock them up for the night and dispatch them to a mental asylum the next morning.
Anyway, I asked them to keep an eye on the guy (they weren’t asking for my advice – but that’s how it’s done…don’t ask me why,) and went to the market.
When I returned laden with two bags of veggies, hoping to log into my account, dreaming of returning to the beautiful world of blogging where chores don’t exist, wifey took the bags from me and announced, “No Internet.”
I rushed out and checked. The ISP-guys were gone. Charasi was gone. And about 50 yards of wire was gone! We were all rendered Internet-less by Charasi.
I am still struggling to find answers:
- Was Charasi acting alone?
- Why were the ISP-guys lurking in the shadows?
- How did Charasi manage to steal the wire right from under their noses?
Until I find answers to these questions, I’ll go by faith. Charasi performed miracles last night. He made the wire disappear. Then he made me disappear from the Internet. They do say that Marijuana opens the portals of spirituality and allows you to ascend to a higher spiritual plane. I think that Marijuana must’ve given Charasi the power to perform these miracles!
I may never figure it out. But as long as Charasi doesn’t perform his next miracle in my neighborhood, I’ll not disappear again.
A Little about the Friday-bazaar.
This bazaar is weekly market (quite like a weekly blogging event) with one small difference. The bazaar is set up every evening – but in different parts of the city. The sellers and the wares remain the same – but because they don’t have to bear the fixed costs associated with a permanent shop, their prices are low, and because they procure their merchandize on daily basis, it’s fresh. This is why everyone who wants fresh veggies shops at these weekly bazaars.
And “Sala Charasi!” would translate to “Brother-in-Law, Pothead!” If you are scratching your head and wondering why these guys were calling Charasi their brother-in-law, you’ve neglected to think of the possibility that Charasi might have a sister. I’d let you work out the rest. Suffice to say, that Sala is a mildly abusive term, and you shouldn’t be using it in polite conversations.