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Does Size Matter?

By Hamdu Mia

This article is entirely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anything living or non-living is completely coincidental. The writer shall not be held responsible for any unwanted controversy.

Some time in the near future. The whole stadium is in silence. Not a single breath can be heard, not a single peanut is being chewed. Everyone watches on in hushed anxiety at the two shadows approaching the ring, at two men coming forward to battle their egos out at the ring. They'll fight till the referees pass out, with the sole purpose of deciding who's the greatest, who's WWE Champion. Their dark silhouettes seem like black holes giving indication of the monstrosity that awaits.

Suddenly the spotlights are switched on. It first falls on the contender for the title. He's huge and he's fearsome. He weighs 500 pounds and he's six and a half feet tall. Still he's not champion. Still he's bean beaten over and over by the true champion. They call him The Big Show, yet there's always been a show bigger than him. There's always been a bigger champ, the man he's here to fight against for the final time.

The spotlight now starts moving. Inch by inch, it creeps towards the man standing at the other end of the ring. The man who can lift anything, they say. The man whose weight none knows of because it never got revealed on TV. The man who has always had to wear snickers because other shoes wouldn't fit. They say he's made of jelly imported from Pakistan. They say he is THE ONE. They call him Adnan Sami.

This was an excerpt from a story some amateur writer was writing the other day. He came and showed it to me. He wanted my comments on it. Normally, I would have said that it stinks. Now I couldn't. Why? Adnan Sami's back. Once again the buzz is alive. Once again I'm angry.

My mother is no different from many other mothers in town. So Hindi channels are the basic ingredient of our daily "TV life". That's how I came across this "Adnan Sami". Here was this huge guy with a voice that sounds like a thousand church bells ringing together and everybody around me was going crazy and saying things like "such a heavenly voice full of emotion". Meanwhile, I concluded that the depth of your voice is directly proportional to your body size. (Our former cricket captain Akram Khan is an exception, though.)

Adnan Sami's popularity kept spreading like the dengue fever in Dhaka. Every channel had his videos on; every CD store I passed by was playing his stuff. Every "gaye holud" had some "khaap" band singing his numbers, with enthusiastic people dancing to the beat. One night, I found him on this talk show on TV. He was talking about his musical upbringing, how people had always said he had cute chubby cheeks, blah blah blah. Then he played a piano in the studio and went on explaining how he'd won a gold medal for being the fastest keyboardist in some competition. (So this guy can play! And he plays well too! Now that's a relief. His hands aren't as heavy as they appear to be!)

Adnan Sami's reign went berserk before long. Now he was dancing in music videos with actresses from Bollywood. How shocking! People all around the sub-continent keep dreaming about those actresses, and here was Mr. Obese himself dancing around with them in person. This was the time when my ever-so-informative mother filled me in with his whole history. Adnan Sami used to be a Pakistani star and was once the husband of some top Pakistani actress. He even starred in Pakistani movies there. (Horrifyingly, our cable operators had the guts to show his movie on a daily basis for nearly two weeks.) Now I realised that my freaking out at those music videos was completely irrational. To my astonishment, girls always kept telling me Afridi was really attractive. (Remember the "Afridi, please marry me" poster at the cricket stadium.) So if Afridi can become "Prince Charming", why can't Adnan Sami star in music videos with movie stars?

So now the phenomenal Adnan Sami is in Dhaka. People went crazy the last time he was here but couldn't do the concert; this time they've gone crazier because he will do the concert. (By the time you'll be reading this article, the concert will be over.) I went to my tutor's house to give a test and heard people conspiring how they would bunk classes and attend the concert. This neighbour of mine plays rock music at the middle of the night and claims to possess original cassettes of Pantera. So I thought he had good taste. But no! He's dying to see Adnan Sami live and even did his numbers at this cultural programme at our apartment.

I'll never understand what's so exciting about Adnan Sami performing live in Dhaka. It looks as if the Australian team's here and giving away free autographs to everyone. You can't even read the papers properly. The news about all the Test matches was short since there was this huge ad of the huge Adnan Sami and his huge concert. People are less excited about New Year and more excited about him. The worst part is yet to come. Every now and then, some guy will come up and ask me, "Kire Hamdu, Adnan Sami ke dekhte geli na?" God! I have to see him all day on TV. And you're literally forced to see him. He occupies the whole screen. I could go on grumbling like this for the rest of my life. So while I try to relax and regain my composure, you people read the poem below. It's something I won't claim to have written since it'll raise questions about my maturity. (At this age, I'm supposed to write poems on highly philosophical subjects.)

"Adnan Sami came to town,
Riding on a donkey,
He's so fat that the donkey went splat
And turned into a monkey.

 

 


 
 

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