It’s been a long time since I posted last; partly because I had nothing interesting in the interim, and partly because I didn’t have the necessary time and patience to post something. But finally, I’m here again, with “something” to share with you. This post is dedicated to Mulla, Bulla’s old crony. He is a different guy. Truly different. No, I really mean it, he is so different, perhaps one in a million. But hold on, I haven’t yet described what sets him apart, so wait a little before forming any image of Mulla. He is different because he can do wonders just like you can click your fingers. He can make you burst into laughter even in your saddest moments. Not because he has a great sense of humour, but because of the queerness of his character and his quirky personality. So you can call him the miraculous Mulla if you like. If I started narrating the stories of his schooldays exploits they would never end. I’ll talk about those one by one, but some other day. As for now, I’ll tell you about the latest one. Mulla related it to me a few days back when I was in Bilaspur for the Republic day. So here it goes…
Guys in general, can be divided into two communities: one with a let-go spirit; the other with a let-come. While the former comprises of the majority, the later is a very small minority. The former is smart enough to ward off glitches and hitches, whereas the latter is foolish enough to invite them. Our Mulla, who essentially belongs to the later has been looking for a job for quite some time. Oh sorry, not just a job, but a decent job where decent means the one which could keep you going with all your profligacy-cum-necessities. Mulla’s necessities? Fuel (for his two-wheeler; bajaj boxer to be precise) and a fag when needed (not needed only when asleep, or may be then too he needs it, in dreams of-course, I am not quite sure). Now finding such a job in a city like Bilaspur is never less then looking for a needle in a haystack, as the cliche goes. But Mulla? He shall overcome, he shall overcome…some day! (Excuse me my misplaced use of “shall”, I guess, at times you can allow me to take that liberty with Hinglish!) Luckily, one day Mulla really overcame. The lady luck smiled on him and he got a job in a prestigious bank; on a probational basis though. It was like what they call a dream come true. So Mulla was happy now, and so were the bunch of fellow appointees. Happy ending eh? Nay!! This is the beginning buddy!! The beginning of the story this post is all about.
In that bunch of appointees, there was a female too; not very pretty, but a dame all the same. So, one girl and so many guys, Oh!! But our heroine was a “sweet sister” type and so, turned into a self-proclaimed sister of all. The sister got along well with every brother, but obviously shared the best rapport with our protagonist, Mulla. Now you don’t know Mulla. He is a kind of guy for whom I must paraphrase Late Mrs. Indira Gandhi’s words for Pranab Mukherjee- “even if you hit him on the head, all that would come out is smoke!!” Yaar truly, he is so sweet, you might have contracted diabetes talking to him, had it been an infectious disease. Coming back to the story, Mulla’s joy knew no bounds when the sister addressed him respectfully, “Bhaiya”. But one thing that dismayed Mulla was the sister’s dressing sense. With her choice of outfits, she could spell disaster. And as you know, boys will be boys, atleast so far as the majority let-goers are concerned. In this respect, our Mulla was an “odd one out” there. He found himself in a strange fix when behind the sister’s back the brothers indulged in cheap boyish talk about her. Mulla could not stop the majority, neither could he say anything to the sister. So what was the fellow to do? He kept mum.
But enough was enough. Mulla could bear it no more when one fine morning the sister appeared in a super-gaudy top, which clearly exposed her cleavage. Naturally, our Mulla was outraged watching whole day the lecherous eyes of the brothers fixed on what, euphemistically, may be called the sister’s forbidden part. But what could he do? Beat the baddies? No friends, Mulla is not a bollywood hero. He is just what he is: simple Mulla. But the feeling of not being able to do anything was literally, killing him from inside. So, next morning, when the sister presented herself in the office in an equally garish and outrageous outfit, Mulla could not help but do something. He wanted to talk to her, but his inhibition-cum-shyness got the better of him. How could he talk to his sister about something so unsavory? “What to do?”, thought Mulla, scratching his head. But having no other way out, he mustered all his courage, and went over to the sister for taking the gallant step. “Sister”, said Mulla. “Yes”, came the reply. “There is a problem”. “What?”, well…well…no other word came out of Mulla’s mouth and he ended-up saying, “nothing”. “No, tell me what?” Mulla’s “nothing” had proved more than enough to arouse sister’s curiosity to the max. Now perhaps we all know how it is to handle the situation, when someone of the fairer-sex is bent on knowing something. In Mulla’s case, she was not bent but hell bent. So after a long introspection, Mulla decided to write his message on a piece of paper and hand it over to the sister. He jotted down possibly the most decent terms he could, “your dress” and handed it to the sister. How do you think would she have responded? “Bhaiya, oh my sweet bhaiya, thank you so much for your concern!!” Oh, did you take it seriously? Hold on, not even Mulla expected such a response. The response that came was something Mulla could not have imagined in his wildest dreams. The sister upon reading the note, turned into “mother”, no not the normal loving caring, affectionate mother that we all have, but “mother Kali”, the Goddess of destruction. Her wrath was of unimaginable proportions and she went on saying to Mulla almost all the unpublishable words that she possibly knew. Poor Mulla remained tongue-tied, not knowing what to do. No, of course that was not the end of the story; the sister-turned-mother thereafter went over to the manager and complained against Mulla in such an acerbic manner that the poor creature was fired immediately.
A few days back Mulla narrated this story to me with his ever-smiling face, in the earnest hope that I would call the sister up and explain to her, how much she had misunderstood him, and that he never intended to hurt or offend her. Despite his financial predicament after losing the job, Mulla’s only qualms were that the sister misunderstood him. Oh, I know u think he must be an idiot, or what you call “an emotional fool”. Well, whatever, but that is what makes him Mulla, one of my two best friends. And I love him for what he is.
