Published: Thursday, May 30, 2013

TehGoatLord's Adventures

Creative Extortion Artists

Page_202When I lived in Uttara some three years back, I never went out with rickshaw fare. See, it doesn’t matter whether you’re walking or on a rickshaw, some crazy-face will get you. There was this time when I was walking towards Friends Club field in the afternoon. The roads were all empty and I felt safe, the type of safety associated with tumbleweed rolling in an old Western movie. Out of no-bloody-where, popped out a man straight from the sewers. This is another example of the state of economy attacking little kids. What drives a man to go skinny dipping in the drains? Is it heartbreak? Is it revenge? Or is it the lack of jobs? The amount of creativity shown by this man should make him a potential target for any ad agency but alas, it’s all about contacts nowadays. The naked man dripping with mud(for your imagination’s sake) asked me to turn in my wallet and all I had on me was a pair of shorts and twenty taka. I offered him both but he refused the money and I had to go back home in my sweaty football pants. That wasn’t the end; we met again, of course. This time in the night and again, after going through the same introductory ritual, he realised who I am. Cursing at me for being a target twice, he dived back into the drains. This made me realise that if Batman was in Bangladesh, he’d hide in the sewers when he does the distract-and-disappear acts. Sewerman isn’t the super-villain we want but he’s the honourable thief we need.

This other time, I was out with a friend and this group of flamboyantly dressed sari-clad women came onto us. Ignoring their blatant similarities with TV series from Kolkata, we kept walking. This woman who looked capable of murder caught up with us and requested exactly this “Our snakes are getting married, they need the money”. To this day, I have never heard of anyone practicing dance moves for a Snake Marriage or heard of a snake walk the aisle. This sudden news of snakes deciding to take the monogamous route struck me dumb. My friend, who’s not half as gullible as I am, asked to see the snake. Like all victims of arranged marriages, this snake turned out to be a weak looking grass snake. He instantly took the snake and threw it at the park right next to us (the snake is fine, tree-huggers). That scared the women all right; they were awed by my friend’s testosterone levels and started crying all over the place. We just hailed a CNG and talked about our triumphs the way back. This day was a good day for mankind.