Pretty Eyes

-7-

Agitated farmers had left behind plough and taken up guns. Shootout, looting, killing were in the air. While I approached towards the assembly of men who had blocked the road, a farmer turned bandit raised his gun a distance away and pulled the trigger. The bullet was not meant for me but the poor bullet knew not to differentiate. I lay in a pool of blood while the crowd dispersed leaving behind the driver to manage a situation he had never imagined to manage in his wildest of dreams. The local police intervened and I was rushed to the nearby hospital. A doctor was summoned from his residence and the operation of extracting the precious bullet resumed. The bullet had damaged me immensely without itself being even slightly damaged, I learned while recuperating that we still manufacture quality products. More days had to be spent at hospital, it was just the beginning…


Dr.Kim Ghosh hurriedly entered the classroom; all the occupants of the class were groomed and dressed at their best. After all it was their first day in the school. There were 30 bright faces all chosen by Dr.Kim who waited with anxious glances at him. Dr.Kim displayed a faint smile, took out a pouch of tobacco which read “Capstan”, he pinched out a well measured amount of tobacco and placed it on his palm, and kept the pouch back in his pocket from where emerged the paper roll. He flipped out one paper sheet, placed the tobacco on it with enviable expertise and rolled the paper. Dr. Kim then raised his head, looked at us and took out his tongue. He moved the border of the paper over his tongue which continuously produced adhesive saliva, and pressed the paper making it a perfect hand made cigarette. The cigarette was lit instantly with a match stick, the match box had a picture of horse that laughed at us and read “Horse head”.
Dr.Kim was the Director and a seasoned professor who often visited disintegrated Russian universities to deliver lecture and participate in seminars. He was a man of modern thoughts and we wondered why he was born in this poor country. His gardener cum servant had however shyly told us sometimes later that he practiced western habits at home which we interpreted as per our fantasies.
He explained “Stochastic process” amidst blue smoke emanating from his mouth and nose. I turned around to have a look at the class. The class had few beautiful faces as well, who resided at the corner building of the campus called “Ladies Hostel”.
I caught the glimpse of Rahul who was hesitantly gazing at a pair of pretty eyes. The Pretty eyes looked at him and blushed and smiled while lowering the eyelids. “Terr…rrr, terr..rr” the bell rang announcing the end of the class.

“Ankho ne ankho se kya kah diya, dil yeh diwana dharkene laga….” Sandeep sang while heading towards the tea stall along with many others.