[Reader-list] Chadwick Kumar, Acharya

[pratap pandey]

Dear Readers,

This is a pale imitation of "Herr Korbes", a Grimm's
Fairy Tale.

I hope you enjoy it. For absolute satisfaction, please
read the original.
pratap 



Chadwick Kumar, Acharya.

An abandoned cellphone and a lapsed deodorant bottle,
having met at the bottom of a scrap-heap, decided to
go on a journey.

They put together a four-stroke autorickshaw, with
great difficulty, from various obsolete engine and
body parts thrown into the same scrap-heap.

The abandoned cellphone, cranking up the lever that
sent the auto sputtering and then purringly puttering,
said to the lapsed deodorant bottle: "Here we go!"

After an hour on the way, they were stopped by a
weather-beaten constabulary lathi (retd.). 
"Where are you going?" asked the constabulary lathi
(retd.), leaning into the driver's cabin.
"To the house of Sri Chadwick Kumar, Acharya," said
the abandoned cellphone, wiping its grimy screen.
"Can I go, too?" the constabulary lathi (retd.) asked.
"Of course. Hop in," the lapsed deodorant bottle said
from the passenger's seat.

The four-stroke autorickshaw trundled, burbling
merrily, towards the house of Sri Chadwick Kumar,
Acharya. From time to time, it also juddered to a
stop, picking up, on the way, a towel, two brown
country-chicken eggs priced at Rs 3 per egg, a roll of
duct tape, a mill-stone, carbolic soap disguised as a
10% discount up-market
muchscent-and-manybubbles-morefroth-making bar, a
needle, a meat-chopper, and a stinking broadsheet.

The motley company reached the house of Sri Chadwick
Kumar, Acharya, at 4:00 p.m. The house was empty. The
motley company let themselves in through a gap in a
window, where a ghetto-climate-changing
air-conditioner had been fixed askew. The towel hung
itself beside the downstairs sink. The eggs hid
themselves inside the towel. The needle jumped onto
the sofa in the downstairs living room, and the
meat-chopper ran under the pillow in the upstairs
bedroom. The mill-stone hung itself above the upstairs
bedroom door, and the carbolic soap placed itself in
the soap-dish beside the sink downstairs. The
cellphone placed itself on the table beside the
stinking broadsheet downstairs, and the deodorant
bottle and duct-tape made themselves comfortable in
the medicine cupboard in the attached bathroom
upstairs.

Sir Chadwick Kumar, Acharya, energetically strode into
his house at 7:30 p.m. He went straight to the table,
and rifled through the broadsheet. The stink brought a
frown to his face. Thereupon he picked up the
cellphone and, punching some buttons, put it to his
ear. The cellphone irradiated him, singeing his
brain-cells and making him sweat. Sri Chadwick Kumar,
Acharya, then went to the sink to wash his sweating
face. The soap-bar jumped out of his hands into his
mouth, and when he hurriedly reached for the towel,
the eggs broke on his face. Sri Chadwick Kumar,
Acharya, staggered half-blind into the sofa, and the
needle pricked him.

That made Sri Chadwick Kumar, Acharya run up upstairs.
As he opened the medicine cupboard, the deodorant
bottle spurted its non-contents into his eyes, making
them burn. Sri Chadwick Kumar, Acharya, then reached
for the duct-tape, which stuck onto his face, blinding
and axysphiating him.

Sri Chadwick Kumar, Acharya threw himself onto the bed
and reached for his pillow. The meatchopper swathed
through his groping hands. Srceaming, Sri Chadwick
Kumar, Acharya ran for the bedroom door. At the door,
the mill-stone fell on his head, killing him.

Sri Chadwick Kumar, Acharya, must have been a very
wicked man.


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