Keeda Time

There have been a lot of stuff I have meddled with, a lot of things I have played around with, just to make things a lil more exciting. It could be as serious as doing stuff enough to get me suspended, maybe expelled from college to something as insignificant as nagging Roomy (the man with eternal patience) till even he loses it. I do this on a regular basis much to the dissatisfaction of some, but at the same time entertainment of many others. More commonly referred to as 'keeda's in my part of the country. I have lost count of my numerous actions that could have gotten me into some serious shit. Most of the times I had an accomplice/s but sometimes I have had to go through it all by myself; memorable nonetheless.

Flash back, 2nd - 3rd grade, we had this huge gang in society that would meet up every evening after school. Galli cricket, gilli-danda, dabai...spice ( I still don't know if that's what its called but that's what we said always, so that's what it is) you name it, we played it all. Enter villain, a well-built middle aged, bald, paan spitting 'Uncle' from Building 3, his sole purpose being to disrupt our plans (at least that's what we felt at that time).
Galli-cricket - ' Bhagoon idhar se, humaare flat ka kaanch thodna hai kya?'
Dabai...spice - 'Itna shor kyun macha rahein hoon, samajta nahi yahaan log rehte hain?'
We had enough of him. This man was marked for destruction. It was time for our annual summit meeting behind closed doors. (actually it was more of a weekly get together at a small place we had made out of discarded truck tyres but it needs to sound a lil more serious, no?) March was fast approaching and Holi was the set date for the planned attack. Water balloons filled with 'chemical' colours were installed at prime locations, my 3rd floor flat being one of them, pichkaaris (again filled with 'chemical' colours) given to the brave soldiers to engage in close warfare. We were ready for a 'chemical' war.

I barely slept the previous night. Morning 7.30 am, the Target emerged from the passage of Building 3 walking towards his scooter. I knew what I had to do. Water bombs exploded onto him and the scooter, you could see terror written all over his face. I emptied the rest of the bucket and raced down to assist the brave soldiers in their close combat.
Ata littel twist in story; by the time I reached the spot, the brave ones had already pelted him with the needful and were well on course to shelter and safety. Ahem! Ahem! Your's truly literally ran into the target's hand. I was caught and my weapon snatched from me. I was stripped of my artillery (a few remaining water 'bombs') and was being dragged hanging by my shirt sleeves to be reported. I had to act fast or else I was gonna be in big trouble. You know these are the moments that separate the men from the boys, the true heroes from the wannabes. I was hanging by the man's hands and my fate to be decided by the paan spitting baldy.In that one moment of inspiration I made a last ditch attempt, rotated myself 180 degrees and bit the man's hand as hard as I possibly could. I was let loose and believe you me, freedom never felt so good. I ran as fast as I possibly could, exit society into the next one and hid there for what felt like eternity. (10 minutes to be precise)


I had escaped from the claws of the enemy that day. If you guys are wondering that my actions would have been reported anyways ah! ah! ah! think again. Your' truly had done his homework well. I had seen a lot of Predator kinda movies to know how to well disguise myself and the bottomline is what fun is Holi if you don't colour yourself. I had painted my face in black and white stripes, coloured my hair red and had made myself unrecognizable even to the best of detectives. :) We had our revenge.

Moral of the Story: Watch T.V. for educational purposes only.

This ones for all my partners in crime, my life is as colourful as it can be.

I be.