Planet of the cows
AGHAST is an understatement to what Sakib felt when his mother announced what she did over breakfast. No matter how much he likes beef, making a trip to the Biraat Goru Chaagoler Haat for that certain 'purchase' of the season is hardly a pleasurable job. But there he was, smack in the middle of a bustling BGCH, stumbling from stall to stall looking at cow after cow after cow…until it got him thinking, “Geez, cows are actually pretty boring.”
Sakib turned to see an old bepari smirking at him through hooded eye-lids. That startled him. Was he speaking aloud?
“Why don't you come over here and let me show you some interesting cows, eh?”
Ushered by the old man, Sakib found himself in a rather shadowy corner of the haat. How come he hadn't noticed this place before? Moreover, what WAS this place?
“Let me have the pleasure of welcoming you to the one, the only, Planet of the Cows (background music- moooooo),” the old man beamed at him.
“Right. That aside, why are you suddenly wearing a Willy Wonka outfit?” Sakib asked, bewildered.
“Eh, the suit? Why I thought it was 'hip'. Paid a lot of money for it, you know,” the man winked.
Sakib didn't know what to say. Instead, he cleared his throat, “So, erm, where are the cows?”
“Right this way, young man,” the man beckoned him to take a seat before what appeared to be some kind of an illuminated stage. He clapped his hands once and suddenly there was music.
“Let's begin with celebrities, shall we?” the man clapped again and in walked a pair of nicely decorated cows, swaying their hips from side to side with the beat of the music.
“The red one is Laali from 'Meena' and the other one is the the athletic nursery-rhyme cow that jumped over the moon. I once thought of sending him to the Olympics, you know,” the bepari introduced proudly.
“Um, why are they moving like that?” Sakib asked, wide-eyed.
“They're cow-walking, duh!” the man laughed.
“Next, we have the Disco-Cows!”- And in walked, no, cow-walked a pair of rock-star cows who, upon reaching centre-stage, started dancing and singing-
“Tomar shing duita to joss, amar ei lej tao shoru. Tai amra holam ajke Disco Goru. I am a Disco Goru, tat tat tara…”
Blinded by the disco-lights, the only thing Sakib could manage was a strangled- “Oh, they speak too.”
“Of course!” the man boomed. “Beats Close-up 1, no? After this we have…”
Next up was a grumpy-looking grey cow who; the moment he appeared, started yelling- “If you buy me I guarantee you the best meat and skin in the whole country. I use 100 percent pure deshi shorishar tel, but of course you can tell that from my shiny skin. Whoever says anything otherwise is surely conspiring against me and this country. Therefore if you buy me, blah blah blah…”
“Politician cow,” the man whispered into Sakib's ear, “they talk too much, though.”
After that, there was a black RAB cow wearing black Aviator shades, a bespectacled Einstein cow that kept muttering E=mc^2, a Brad Pitt cow that put up a Cowscar-winning performance and many more. In fact, so many more that by the end of the parade Sakib found himself quite giddy with the massive amount of 'interesting' bovine information.
“So, which one would you like?” the man asked, a prominent smirk on his face.
“…Can I have a glass of water first?” Sakib asked meekly.
“Sure, here you go-o-o-o,” and for some weird reason the bepari-in-Wonka-suit splashed the water right on his face…
…”Bhai! Bhai!! Are you okay?”
Sakib blinked. The first thing he saw was the toothy smile of a massive cow (or was that only the teeth?) whose face was suspended inches away from his. The liquid on his face was still wet and, disconcertingly so, the smiling cow seemed to be drooling.
“The what?” the owner of the drooling cow scratched his head. “You seemed to have passed out beside my stall. Heat of the Haat, maybe?”
“Oh,” Sakib muttered. “Damn, I wanted one of those Disco-Cows.”
North East West South (NEWS)
The Rise of the Raise
When Boy meets Animated Girl
In related news, Google gives 12, 700 results for “Nintendo DS liquid damage”.
Murdoch the Man
While the camera was switched off, the aging baron also vowed to everyone present that he plans to turn Googleplex, Google's headquarters, into nothing but a smouldering pile of pebbles.
“I love the smell of burning Segways in the morning”, said the media mogul
When Anger Management goes awry
What can we say? It is a mad, mad world out there. We just bring it to you monthly.
By The Don Khan and Ero Senin
Your one stop connection for all the love, hate, rants, advice and money you have for RS. Write to us at email@example.com We especially like the money
The Love-hate connection
You are conceited, prejudiced and overly biased towards your own opinion which seems critically artificial in itself. You use your sly command over the blessed language of English to hide your personality and highlight an image which you have created.
Don't you realize that the ultimate aim of a writer should be to create something which his readers can comprehend and enjoy? Your articles are rarely about anything which the readers are interested in.
You never let your emotions show. No one can understand who you are or how your mind works. That is what a reader always wants to do.
However strong my opinions may be, I must admit that I am a fan and I eagerly wait to read you articles. I was glad that you let us into your world even just a little bit by telling us that you love Michael Jackson and can't stand Britney Spears. Although, since I am a fan of the Backstreet Boys I was not too excited about how you disregarded them as truly accomplished artists of pop. Maybe you should put a little effort on listening to the music made by these wonderful artists.
Hope you get it right soon.
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