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the Indian Storyteller

                  How often it happens when you're travelling in a bus and a few people, at a far distance, who seem to have no other work than talking irrelevant stuff(for them at least with a very little knowledge) of nation and political scenario, start off a story. A story of their past, of they being caught in a bus hustle, of being caught without a ticket and how they made an escape, of how rude the conductor was, or of how mad the driver was, or how they struggled for a seat and that turned out to be a "reserved for ladies one"(my favorite). Very often. This sometimes is fascinating and amusing. Most of the times people talking to each other hardly know the fellow being, but this is India. We all know each other. what if buses are most prone to thievery, what if  most of the times we don't even find a place to place our feet, we are the people who live.
                  And why only buses, our conscious is manufactured in such a way that  that we are always loaded with stories. Stories of our past, stories of our present, stories of families, stories of other people families, and so on.
                  When in a train, there are stories of how one woke up at 3 a.m. and stood up in queue for the tatkaal ticket, or how one with a general ticket managed to sleep in the sleeper coach, or how without a ticket one traveled and escaped the TT, or how someone hot someone seated infront was, or how big that family was, or how much that family ate, or how funny that sleeping posture was.
                The junior senior relationship, which turned into a strong friendship, has also got a role of stories in it. A senior blabbering about his admission story to his cadet, or how bad that teacher is, or how at the last time the most difficult paper was dealt.
                  Even on family gatherings, we empty or never-can-be-emptied memories, dust off few photographs and recollect the stories. Story of how painful that injury was when we were playing cricket in summers of 2000, or how badly your dad beat you up one evening, or how your brother put you in trouble again and again, of how nostalgic things become.
                  And most importantly, friends. Our craziest, funniest and most exciting stories come with our friends. Stories of how tripling on a bike one Saturday evening you guys took the long way to avoid the police check, or how after the first smoke the world around went upside down, how crudely they reacted on your long sickness, or how they tricked you into drinking, or how naughtiness became a habit and the list endless...  
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  1. Anonymous17 September 2013 at 10:02

    Hahaa..Indeed so true,every Indian is a storyteller.. ;)

    ReplyDelete

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