He was employed in a government guest house as a bearer. He suffered from some mental ailment. He did a lot of self talking when he was alone and all by himself. Most of the self talk comprised of vulgar abuses to people he didn’t like. He would indulge in self talk so deeply that without realizing he would translate it into sign language with his hands.
One day while peddling his bicycle to his office, he started abusing his enemies in whispers. The whispering turned into yelling which was soon supported by hand gesturing. He lifted his hands from the handle bar, curled the fingers of his right hand forming a deep hole and penetrated it with the index finger of the left hand, showing and telling everyone in the village street what he would do with the mother of his rival.
He lost control of the bicycle and fell down. The index finger of left hand was still inside the curled fingers of the other hand when he fell down. Every day people in the street would be peeping through their windows or standing on their main doors on some pretext to see his falling down from the bicycle.
PS: None of the above is fiction. Its real life person who has died. His name is not mentioned to protect the identity of his family.
PPS: I am too scared to face the wrath of his family if they come to know that I wrote about their father.
One day while peddling his bicycle to his office, he started abusing his enemies in whispers. The whispering turned into yelling which was soon supported by hand gesturing. He lifted his hands from the handle bar, curled the fingers of his right hand forming a deep hole and penetrated it with the index finger of the left hand, showing and telling everyone in the village street what he would do with the mother of his rival.
He lost control of the bicycle and fell down. The index finger of left hand was still inside the curled fingers of the other hand when he fell down. Every day people in the street would be peeping through their windows or standing on their main doors on some pretext to see his falling down from the bicycle.
PS: None of the above is fiction. Its real life person who has died. His name is not mentioned to protect the identity of his family.
PPS: I am too scared to face the wrath of his family if they come to know that I wrote about their father.
LOL. LOL. LOL. Awesome post.
ReplyDelete