Nostalgic moments Part -2 The Slumdog

“You fucking Slumdog!!!” I heard the brawl begin, right in front of my eyes. The bottle of Finlandia vodka almost slipped out of my grip What happened I thought, everything was well a while before. December 2008, an Indian model turned actor had achieved fame from his movie about a Rock Band.  Well, the movie had been one of the best of the year and the new recognition made it a little difficult to digest insult of this order, that too in public. So what really happened? A sunset at Taj holiday village on the day of Christmas Eve. The sun soaked into the oceanic waves wearing its brightest robe with shades of warm colours like vermillion, magenta and indigo. A pinkish haze spread over the sea. Half of this radiant loom reflected over the sea. The breeze was adequate and it ruffled the palms that lined up the beach. the soft rays of the reflected vibrancy beamed at me and shone my face with orange tinge. I was making one of my most favorite cocktail. The Goan sun. Coconut water mixed with vodka with a shot of cointreau into it. I had been watching throwing infrequent glances at the group of men playing cricket. Stood amongst them with a Kashmiri willow bat in his hand was our hero. He had developed Latin American  tan, celebrity bronze i would call it. His body had an attractive built chiselled like a masculine stone sculpture and looked benevolent as the rays of light pierced through the gaps of his manly curves. His face was getting covered with his wavy streaks now and then. he looked like a warrior knight as he ran between the wickets. Valour and power of the body exhibited equally with his shouts. You know men, they make more noise than playing the actual game. The air was filled with enthusiasm and adrenaline as they would shout in unison over a dropped catch or a perfect hit by the batsman and the chaos created when they ran between wickets or the run out throws and overthrows. Simultaneously on the other hand on a nearby bench a couple sat with their toddler. The gentleman looked like a geek, I knew him. An engineer in the silicon valley he was a very polite well behaved Irish man and carried himself with poise. His wife was an Asian, and the kid was a complete confusion of ethnicity. Never mind, cute kid they called him Ponty. Ponty loved the pool, hence the couple used to spend hours at the bar. I befriended them there. The shout rose again and Mr. Hero had hit a boundary, the ball smashed hard on the bench where the family was seated. There was apologies shouted and our star raised his hand up and waved. The act which could spark an argument was excused in the spirit of boyish sportsmanship. All Ok!! Game continued. The ball went twice to the same place. Now, the lady was a little anxious. This time our hero walked to the bench. He picked the ball himself and before the irish man could express his resentment, Mr. Hero asked him to move to other bench. It was less a request and more of an order.

“First they ignore you, then they ridicule you, then they fight you, and then you win.”
― Mahatma Gandhi

The Irish man sparked back at him asking, “With what authority you talk to me this way? Who are you?” Mr. Hero got into a rough tone and asked him with a sarcastic smile, “you don’t know me?” He turned back at his pack and yelled in a joking manner.” He says he doesn’t know me. Everyone had sensed tension rising between them with their body language now exhibiting the traits of two African lions waiting to pounce over each other “He turned back at him, “You don’t read newspaper when you are in India, I guess? Go and Google me” Now he had developed a wicked smirk on his face as he spoke. The Irish man inclined a little forward as he could stare straight into the model’s eyes and said,” Why are you a wanted fugitive on the run? Don’t get google into this. I develop such systems every day. We Americans create these technologies and million slum dogs like you host and boast about yourself on it.  You want me search you on it. Get out of my sight, you fucking slum dog!!! That was it, he had pulled the wrong strong and it was plucked. The pack was now nearing towards them. It was good old ten more guys walking towards him. the actor glanced back at his pack and was assured of his support. He dropped the bat and with both his fists caught the caught the collar of the Irish guest and pulled it towards him. He lashed out a few abuses with a vicious look. However, he didn’t notice the tight closed fists rising to his face. He got punched like a punching back in his face, stomach, chest and his lip busted bleeding. He stumbled and was on the ground as the irish man hit him with kicks. His friends reached and stopped the kickboxer. They were separated and held back. Mr. Hero got up on his feet and signalled his friends to leave the both of them. He looked around and found the crowd staring at this complete mismatch of wit. Even I found that my knight was getting beaten by monk. He bend again and picked up the bat. The irish shaked off the grips of various hands which held him back. The security guards were closing by and yelling warnings at them. Mr. Hero wacked him once with the bat on his calf muscles. That struck hard like a lash to him. He started running away as our hero was armed. Then I saw the most hilarious sight of life. The Irish man was running for his life towards the golf course. Behind him ran our hero with the bat. He had got into a complete Hindi movie mood. The stereotype kind where the hero rises soaked in blood stains after several bullets and injuries and kills the villain. And behind them ran the pack of his friends to stop the assault. That wasn’t enough that the squad of securities ran behind them blowing a whistle. More than fifteen men running after a stupid reason. The Irish ran till the golf course and  turned back as there was no other way. The smart villain saw the security and his friends coming towards them. He wasted sometime engaging him into a game of kabaddi like kids. From there he ran back to the bench.  In the middle way, the security guards caught the actor and snatched the bat out of his hand. The couple was asked to move away from the sight. they did obey the security guards. As he walked away he turned and showed a third finger to Mr. Hero. He was infuriated again and spurted out abuses. He moved like a wild horse just trapped pulling himself out of the hands of his pack. But this time he was not too fortunate as they outnumbered his strength completely and he hardly could struggle.

“In a way fighting was just like using magic. You said the words, and they altered the universe. By merely speaking you could create damage and pain, cause tears to fall, drive people away, make yourself feel better, make your life worse.”
― Lev Grossman, The Magicians