I logged in to my Facebook account today to find teachers’ day specials and Kanhaiya’s happy birthday moments without the cake (not even the egg-less one). I ‘liked’ the pictures where teachers posed for the camera on the one day they are celebrated with so much love and care that they begin to believe everything is alright with the world and the bubble is more transparent. Come Monday, bubble poked and left wherever it arose from, life-is-such-a-monotony, they begin and “Ma’am, I think you need a break” raises an alarm with red and blue sirens both, forcing passersby to stop and make way for back-bending bags laden with bricks called books. Tuesday, Wednesday and still life goes on, without a comma, a semi-colon. Somewhere, some teachers seized the day and went on hunger-strike, boycotting THEIR day, sobbing in front of cameras, begging for guru-dakshinas, beating chests and shouting ‘our kitchens are empty’. They did get their dakshina. By evening, the most stupid student of the class appears on the doorstep and says to his teacher ‘Sir, I brought you rice and some vegetables’. Don’t tell me you never labelled that student ‘stupid’. Oh, why?
Happy birthday Kanhaiya. I saw his pictures too. Posing. Clicking selfies. With that peacock-pankh and flute. The curd was missing though. Oh, and the blue skin too. I suppose he was so excited about his day that he left those two things somewhere and came by himself declaring that he lost his way in the milieu of people crowding to look at his sudden-transformed fair-and-lovely skin. When he finally reached his place, he was numbed by the variety of prayers thrown at him, incense-smoke shoved into his nose, whether he liked them or not, not to speak of those thousands of earthen lamps lit around him that his make-up came off. Then as I stood at the gate, looking at the mess he was in, he began to run crazily, bumping into fresh-lit lamps and offerings, screaming his lungs out ‘Today is my happy birthday, today is MY happy birthday.’ His devotees were scared, and thinking that their Hari was possessed by the devil, began to throw more fervent prayers. And all our dear Kanhaiya heard from the masses was ‘I want… I want… I want… I want…’. I took the backdoor and whispered in his ear ‘Are you ready for my prayer Krishna?’ He was about to nod his head, but then I saw his ear bleed and he finally said ‘Sing for me, my secret lover’..
Dinner’s done. What do I take to bed tonight? The morning.