The Bullshitter

"Beta, apun idhar bees saal se raha hai!" exclaimed a loud voice with no defining characteristic. The owner of the voice was nothing colourful either. It was rained that evening and this gentleman had definitely had his share of washing, but then he wasn't one of those who'd bother!

Ice-cream! That was on the menu for me as well as this nondescript sample of homo sapiens. For convenience's sake, let's call him the bullshitter! It had been a hard day for me, and i was really hungry. The sky was overcast and the watch's hands showed half past eleven. Time to have a quick bite and scoot, yes sir!

The street was empty sparing a few dogs who'd just decided a to have a rendition of a soprano in pooch lingo, and of course poor blokes like me who headed back home late!

"Woh blah blah tera maalik mera punter tha, samjha na? Samjha ki nahi. Blah, blah, blah...!"

The ice-cream guy looked rather nervous before this huge tub of lard. Oh yes, he was fat. How could i forget that 'defining characteristic'? He had a rotund paunch, surely a sign of prosperity. His shirt was unbuttoned, and his eyes looked red. It seemed like he had a wild night with friends. Must be having one last snack lest he go home with an angry belly screaming invectives!

From all the signs above, it looked like a classic case of extortion. He was freaking the poor ice-cream kid into submission, ice-cream, and above it all, money! Hey that ain't fair! Not with a d*** who's earned just a few hundred rupees throughout the evening.

There were a few bystanders. As is the case with most bystanders, they love doing nothing beyond watch contentedly from a distance. F*** you bystanders!

I had a rather difficult evening at work, and was royally pissed off! This tub of lard didn't seem he'd recover from a few quick blows to the face and a kick to the groin. But wait, why get into trouble? Mr. Bullshitter might be a dark horse, and summon enough strength to squish me like a bug. Now what? Wait and watch, join the bystanders association of India, you d***!

He slowly ambled away with his money and the faloodas. He had a good taste for ice-cream, 'coz i too had a taste for faloodas; and trust me nothing ever gave you a more strong kick than the sugary strawberry syrup topped with small sweet tidbits we call tutti-frutti! God, i love 'em!

With the kick now firmly in place and a temper driven by a sugar high, i immediately asked the ice-cream chappie who was this f***er who fleeced you? Why'd you oblige man? He's still in sight, and we can catch him and give him a sweet treat that he really needs!! Don't i sound soo much like the knight in shining armour? All set to succour the poor from the clutches of the wicked! You couldn't have been more wrong, maybe less wrong than i was that night!

The ice-cream vendor, a thin kid no more than a junior college dropout gave me a reply that threatened to kill my much needed high.

"Arre nahin sahib, woh koi chutiya hai. Aap fikar mat kijiye..."

Phisss.......

And so all my chances for a bit of bravado and machismo were washed off by a slight drizzle that started once again.

I asked again "Lekin tumne to usko paise diye?"

Came the reply "Sahib usne mujhe sau rupaye diye they, usee ke chutte diya maine..."

Ah, what a pity? Well, never mind...

The man, our bullshitter evidently was somebody sometime back in time. Must've been a goonda or a local 'administrator' judging by his words. Or maybe he was just another guy soaring on hot air, bullshitting people whilst an ice-cream vendor prepared a falooda for him to take home...