अर्धवट कविता...करीन पुरी कधीतरी!

मी नव्हतो आधी कोणी पण
मला व्हायच नव्हत कोणी ही
पण मला ओळख मिळालीच नाही.
ह्या सगळ्या अनोळखी जगात
माझा चेहरा पुसालच जात नाही
आणि मग तू, मी आणि आम्ही
पण मी खरच त्यातला नाही.
झेंडे, फुले आणि शस्त्र
मी होऊच शकत नाही विवस्त्र
तू कोण, कोठून, कोणाचा
पहिल नाव, शेवटचा नाव संगितल्याशिवाय सुटकच नाय

Colour me Blood

Today was a happy day in Bhausaheb's office. His supporters were gathered around a colourful tent built only for this day since the early morning. The courtyard is decorated by rangoli, a supposed to be devotional music were playing with the breaks for popular bollywood item numbers. Outside the tent a huge flex was erected wishing 'Bhau' many wishes, and with hell lot of pictures of their supporters. A small temporary cabin was packed with flowers and gifts, everything was trying to be organised, in its own disorganised manner. Yes it was Birthday of Bhausaheb or 'Bhau' as he is lovingly called.

Contradicting to the festive mood of the office two quite ambulances with four doctors were standing on the circumference of the crowed. Few supporters brought a huge weigh scale from a scrap yard, and they started decorating it with flowers. Another strange thing. These two strange things will be explained by a banner being put under 'Bhau's flex-It said: Blood donation camp and 'rakta-tula' on the occasion of Bhau's birthday.

These things still are quite ordinary or expectedly weird for anybody who doesn't know what happened to this town 6 days back...

What happened here was a remote reaction to something that didn’t happen to another town few thousand of kilometers away. On the last Monday suddenly a mob inspired by a will to change...at least modify the world according to their leaders thoughts attack an area of the town. Their leader wanted a monument of his leader to be erected at a disputed land. But law prevented him from doing so and arrested him. The mob attacked the colony of the people who were not personally but religiously different than their leader's leader...and incidentally the Police commissioner who gave the order of his arrest was also of their community. The violence lasted for two days...

But today the leader was out on a bail...and incidentally it was Bhau's birthday too. Bhau, though a supporter of that arrested-and-released leader, was not a bad man heart, at least that what he wanted to prove. So he arranged this 'rakta-tula'. He will donate the blood equal to his weight to the city hospital to treat the people who got injured in last week's violence.

Rakt-tula is inspired by suvarna-tula. A custom in Indian fairy (?) tales. Where a king used to weigh him by gold coins and ornament on his birthday or any auspicious day and then he used to donate those amount as a charity.

Here Bhau will weigh him by blood bottles, and frozen blood packets, and this he will donate that blood to the hospital. Well well...

Bhau arrived with his convoy. Everybody jumped to open and hold the door of the SUV for Bhau. After few speakers talked about Bhau and his achievements, his majesty Bhau also talked about the importance of blood donation and the necessity to erect the monument. After people ate the breakfast and sweets, the function which everybody was excited about started-The only rakt-tula or Rudheer-tula as Bhau called it.

Bhau sat in one pan of the weigh scale. He was wearing white kurta and white pants, a gold chain in neck and a golden watch. The supporters waiting for the function to start was reflecting in his black Ray Ban. Being a corporator is no easy job. You can't give time for your body, your food and drinks. After being the corporator Bhau also suffered from this ignorance-o-health mania. You can't really call him fat, but yes fats increased his girth quite a lot after being Corporator. He couldn't get time even for exercise. That was showing clearly when he tried to sit down in the pan. Well his supporters supported him.

Oh the doctor...yes the doctors were called...lazy bums only standing near the ambulance all this while. After few flashbulbs burnt and the official inauguration of the function, the function started.

The first packet of blood was ceremonially thrown in the other pan by Bhau’s wife Kokilabai. Then Bhau’s brother had his turn. After few others dignitaries, the donation was going to open for public. Everybody was talking about Bhau and his…well weight of course. Dada said, “you were unnecessary worrying about you weight…it is helping for a good cause now…hahaha” “Yes”, supported Nana “These doctors are getting helped because you didn’t listen to them about the weight-loss program” Everybody was bursting in to laughter and started teasing doctors. Everybody wanted to show they are happy with the responsibility…and they also want to please their leader.

Nana was putting a bottle of blood in the pan. The pan was already heaped; the bottle slipped of the heap and landed on the floor. Splash! Nana’s chappal and lower part of his white pants got soaked in red. Boom! Everybody suddenly got so quite after the noise. Nobody moved, said or ordered anything. The sweeper came to his senses first; he ran and grabbed a mop to clean the floor. Ohh suddenly everybody started giving orders to our fast thinker…wash this, wipe that. Nana looked at his trousers, “Doctor, will this cause me any disease…say AIDS?” and he loves his jokes, he thought this is hilarious and started laughing hysterically.

For a moment everybody though he’s gone mad…really got contracted by some weird disease. But no he gasped, breathed and again started laughing in his trademark tone.

Everybody also, meanwhile, started to get fascinated by the red floor. It was gripping visual. Blood clots were slowly getting diluted in the soap water. The colourful film of soap was slowly turning red. Fat women slipped off the soapy floor and bumped on the container of blood bottles. And again another blood bottle broke. The fat lady was sitting in a pool of blood, her hand was red. She tried to wipe her sweat and her face also got blood stained. She was looking horrible…a psycho-serial killer.

Yes and she started the series of murder, murder of the bottles. Now not only Nana but the whole crowd has gone crazy, everybody laughing hysterically on the lady’s red face. Hell, she was embarrassed. Pappu, 6 year son of Bhau, sneaked and reached the container. He took out a packet of blood and ripped it open, and started showering it on his playmates. He was Bhau’s son; after all, nobody can stop him.

Now everybody wanted to be a part of The Red Army. Everybody, almost, started playing with bottles, either explicitly or secretly. Somebody yelled, “Holi hai!!!”

Sure Bhau’s birthday was memorable. He is the leader. He got support. The monument has to erect there now