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Adventures of Piklu...Bhokkattaa

Piklu was tired with his hand held video game. It’s a useless thing. It doesn’t come close to his wooden truck or the sling or the little newspaper-kite his father makes him everyday.

He threw the handheld device and ran to the terrace. His house is surrounded by huge-monstrous palm-trees on all three sides. This is the reason he never comes to the terrace at night. At night this tree reminds him of the jakkha in the thakurmar jhuli. And he is sure, some of the rakshasas live in the palm trees. Though, according to his mother, even ghosts cannot tame him, but he fears ghosts, this much he admits on his own.

It’s 2 pm and there is nobody in his house to police him. He has just managed to slip past his fast asleep mother. He hates when his mother forces him to sleep in the afternoon, when there is so many activities going on around the world.

Piklu took his sling and arrived at the terrace. It’s winter and modhu dada is flying kites. There will be soon dog-fight between the lattu and mukhpora-hanuman behind their palm-trees. He wished modhuda’s lattu should survive this fight. He wished at this vital moment, he would have been with modhuda. He would act as a deputy. Modhuda assigns him the prestigious task of holding the latai and lift the kite. How much he loves to see the opponent’s kite sailing off in the open sky towards the kingdom of never-return.

Piklu is a staunch believer in his self-discovered final resting places of the kites. Like, if modhuda manages to snap this mukhpora-hanuman, it would certainly go to lanka, it will land in the garden of mandakini. Sita will be happy to see the kite. Likewise if the lattu gets cut, it will go to Disneyland.

The palm trees were obstructing the view. Piklu was shifting and struggling to see the kite-fight properly. He was sad. He wants to go there. Modhuda would give him the latai to hold. He would slowly roll the latai and the tiny kite would sway near Pakistan. Mussarah (he knows Pakistan’s president’s name…piklu is a living encyclopaedia, according to his bulu-kaku) would see piklu flying kite sitting in the cockpit of his missile.

And sometimes, piklu would frighten the birds that are always in such a hurry as not to see the hanging string in the air. Piklu loves to see the birdies change their route once they discover there is a thin string hanging in the air. They would turn their head towards the boy who is flying the kite and curse him in a cacophony. Piklu loves all these things. After all this will be the hot debate once they go to rest in their resting trees. The crows complain the most in the evening time.

But piklu was missing all this. And madhuda is too engrossed in flying kite than to notice him.

“Modhudada…,” piklu shouted.
“Who, piklu?” modhudada replied without looking at the source. He is busy handling the invader.
--yaa, I am, what are you doing?
--why, I am flying kite. Come quickly…I have to take over the mukhpora. Latai dhorbi aay.
“I can’t,” piklu’s voice choked in sadness.
--why?
--the door is closed.
--than open it and run.
--I can’t, the bolt is high.
--then tell your mother to open.
--she is sleeping
--wake her up, tell its emergency.
--no, she will again make me sleep.

“I have fooled her again today, I came out from the bed when she fell asleep,” piklu was all smile on his achievement.
--than what to do…just see.
--but I want to come.
--you should…come.
--maa will scold me.
--no she won’t
--she will.
--than what…
--modhuda, I want to come.
--come then.
--how?
--wait. I am sending my mother to your place. Maa and aunty will chat together and you slip through. Till then I am managing to hold my ground, I will fight only when you come. I want somebody to hold the latai.

Piklu was ready. Just when modhuda’s mother entered the house, he slipped through the gate, his mother shouting behind him. His mother gave up all hope and flashed a smile when piklu disappeared in modhu’s house. “Not even ghost can tame him…” she sighed.

Piklu was ready holding his ground and his captain (piklu’s inspiration…one day he wants to be like modhudada and then they will jointly fly kites and would conquer the world) was fighting valorously with the invader. Modhudada’s mastery with the kites is mind-blowing. As if his kites obey his orders. The kite would sway to the left side, right side, would dive down like a kingfisher and would pierce through the air upwards like a rocket.

“piklu, fool what are you looking at. Wrap up the threads…see they have all jumbled up.” Modhudada scolded him hard. Piklu was too engrossed looking at the jugglers in the sky. Diving with a screeching sound and rising at a break-neck speed as if they will hit the cloud and make a hole in it. He almost forgot the ground reality. A soldier forgetting his duty is a crime…modhudada says.

Piklu tried hard to wrap the threads, but make it all the more jumbled. Modhu saw the sadness in his deputy’s face. “leave it comrade…we need to let off the strings right now.”
--Look …look…look…here we go…loosen your latai piklu, let it roll wildly…let the threads go…let it be free flowing…its all now upto you piklu…see I am releasing the thread…now now pilu…you are the incharge…just let the latai roll wildly. Release as much string as it demands…le it be…let it.

Piklu’s heart stopped. He is now the incharge of the kite. Both the kites are rolling wildly. Both the kites are getting tinier and tinier…and there it goes, the mukhpora swapped from its threads.

It took seconds for piklu to understand what happened. He was still letting his kite go on, the latai on his hand was rolling like a water mill in a fast stream, his whole body was shaking wildly. Suddenly madhuda shouted… “Bhokkata ….bhoooookkkkaaaatttttaaaaa, duooo…duooo…duoooo.”

Modhuda took charge of the kite…piklu started screaming…bhokkkatttaa, bhokkattaa…duooo, pare naa, pare naaa, bhokktaaa…
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Bhokkaattaaaa….bhokkaaattaaaa, bhokkaaatattaaa….

He was dancing all over the terrace, he has made it again… “BHOKAKKKKTTTTAAAAA…, ” he went on shouting…

And then suddenly that mombati came from nowhere and dived into the hanging threads, modhudada was busy wrapping up his latai, and couldn’t notice the coward that attacked from behind. Moments later, the mombati snapped modhuda’s lattu.

A pale of sadness descended upon both of them as they saw their kite sailing towards the no-man’s land with almost all the threads they have. They could hear the faint rebuke the enemy camp was hurling to them.

They saw the mombati rolling around the threads as it tried to capture the lattu in the sky itself.

And it captured it also. Both the kites were swaying side by side as if they were best of friends. Modhudada and piklu had nothing to do but to see it.

Suddenly, because of the weight of the huge threads, or because of the wind or may be because of the sharp manjha (or is it piklu’s sigh?) the mombati also snapped…

They could now see both the kites sailing towards the no-man’s land.
Modhudada sprang up shouting…”BHHHHOOOOOKKKAAAATTTTAAAA….”

Piklu followed soon… “BHOKKAAATTTAAAA…BBBHHHHHOOOOOKKKKKAATTTTAAA…
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Bhokkaattaaaa….bhokkaaattaaaa, bhokkaaatattaaa….
BHHHHOKKKKAAAATTTAAAAA…

Comments

Pip Squeak said…
Very nice.
Part of me wants to be a part of Piklu- the one that stares in amazement at his elder who is a master of kite flying that is. Never managed to get a kite airborne in my life....
Ghetufool said…
pip,
i am overwhelmed to hear some words of appreciation from you. you just managed to brand me a person unable to write something 'healthy' in my life.
do come again dear.
yes, everyone is a piklu in his private corner. we die carrying a piklu in an obscure corner of our heart. isnt it?
boddo lomba likhchis. word count kom kor. but good stuff.
Ghetufool said…
ok boss, as you order. but the problem is choto korle onek kichu detail include korte parbo naje.
anyway choto kora shikhte hobe, afterall its a blog and not magazine.
thanks foolda.
Bonatellis said…
i like the personal intro ... the 555 to bidi thingy :)
Pip Squeak said…
There's nothing wrong with large word coutns if it's instrumental to the post as is in this case.... but yes, mixing bengali and english maybe very post modern, but one has to know when to leash the dog....
sadsack said…
is that fool on the hill inspiring u or u guys planning a syndicate??
Patient Portnoy said…
Hey Ghetu, great stuff.

Bhokattaaaaaaa sounded great, I could almost hear the war cry back from those long-lost Biswakarma Pujo days in Calcutta.

Did you read "The Kite Runner", by Khaled Hosseini? You seem to share his kite-flying fetish.

By the way, Hi. And also a Happy New Year. See you in 2006 :-)
Pip Squeak said…
The Kite Runner definitely has nothing to do with this..... As far as i know, the award winning book had something to do with a law that banned flying kites( probably in Iraq)
Ghetufool said…
Bonnatellis,
thanks for coming to my blog. read your blog also. it's nice. will start active commenting soon.
do visit again.
happy new year
Ghetufool said…
pip,
thanks for the support.
since u guys are not pissed over my long post. i think i will continue posting such. its comfortable for me.
Ghetufool said…
hey sadsack,
what syndicate you are meaning?
kindly explain.
and thanks for coming to my blog. warm welcome.
happy new year.
Ghetufool said…
ddugm,
no i didnt read "The Kite Runner".
thanks for coming and appreciating.
i am particularly happy that i reminded you of viswakarma.
warm welcome and thanks again.
and surely, a very happy new year to you too.

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