Dust and dust is everywhere. But no one looks covered in it. Modern looking men in western outfit hollering "bheiya" in stead of "Tamo", and women with their noses recently made aquiline yelled "bhabi, where is jeeju?" To them "enamah and eteih "are too foreign. Their tones are loud enough for anyone to ignore. I am puffing a mild cigarette in front of a kiosk roofed with rusted corrugated sheets. The old lady shopkeeper is on the phone. She grumbled,"Ebemah, I can't understand a word your Saini man is saying. You have to teach me his language." I know the old lady well, I know the street. But I couldn't say I am familiar with the condition and changed characters. But each time I walk the streets here I see them, but I want to picture my grandparents instead; my grandfather sweeping the areas around, while my grandmother teasing him with all her witty Meiteilon phrases. And that teasing would go on till he had washed his hands and feet , and until he had sat on the thick reed mat puffing his heedakphoo( hookah).
Now the modern-looking people roam the place either in their miniature cars, sticking their heads out every now and then to spit, or on 100cc motorbikes with headlights removed. If you sat with a few trendy mates you would hear them say,"I know that ASE man in i10", and someone more trendier would butt in,"No! No! He has an i20, and you know, he is the brother of that CCC recently provided escort." These people of who-is-who are the pillars of the society. When they fall many will gloat, especially the elite of lingo who will come out to say: This cocio-socio predicament is unlocked for, and what one can expect is another anarcho-tragic.
While the people with VIP power line will whine: There is nothing for us. Good that I have bought two three-roomed flats in Delhi and Bangalore. Those left behind would whine while warming their bones by the braziers," Now they want everything: our lands, our money and even our food. What can we do, what can we do?" But these what-can-we-do people will do everything they can to afford a good and displayable dowry for their daughters.
Meanwhile, in the land of Christ, long ignored and discriminated by the redeemer himself they splutter in their recently acquired language: They are our enemy number one. No more discrimination, and now that The Lord has sent a Bazooka messiah we can liberate ourselves. We will shed blood and offer our flesh to create our long denied Chrissake Land.
For protection I have two shepherds, in place of VIP line I have two solar panels and some Moreh-bought LED bulbs and an inverter, powerful enough to charge my Steve Jobs gadget, in place of lord I have filled up my ceiling-to-floor shelves with some stuff that I want to read, in place of the the lingo I have created something simple in which big things are said. And the land, I inherited this small plot from my grandfather, spacious enough to create another Japan.
Now the modern-looking people roam the place either in their miniature cars, sticking their heads out every now and then to spit, or on 100cc motorbikes with headlights removed. If you sat with a few trendy mates you would hear them say,"I know that ASE man in i10", and someone more trendier would butt in,"No! No! He has an i20, and you know, he is the brother of that CCC recently provided escort." These people of who-is-who are the pillars of the society. When they fall many will gloat, especially the elite of lingo who will come out to say: This cocio-socio predicament is unlocked for, and what one can expect is another anarcho-tragic.
While the people with VIP power line will whine: There is nothing for us. Good that I have bought two three-roomed flats in Delhi and Bangalore. Those left behind would whine while warming their bones by the braziers," Now they want everything: our lands, our money and even our food. What can we do, what can we do?" But these what-can-we-do people will do everything they can to afford a good and displayable dowry for their daughters.
Meanwhile, in the land of Christ, long ignored and discriminated by the redeemer himself they splutter in their recently acquired language: They are our enemy number one. No more discrimination, and now that The Lord has sent a Bazooka messiah we can liberate ourselves. We will shed blood and offer our flesh to create our long denied Chrissake Land.
For protection I have two shepherds, in place of VIP line I have two solar panels and some Moreh-bought LED bulbs and an inverter, powerful enough to charge my Steve Jobs gadget, in place of lord I have filled up my ceiling-to-floor shelves with some stuff that I want to read, in place of the the lingo I have created something simple in which big things are said. And the land, I inherited this small plot from my grandfather, spacious enough to create another Japan.
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