The Simpsons

So, Cafe Coffee Day it was. Me and M walked in there hand in hand. "Ah! This is so much better than BurPista, won't you say?” she nudged me. "The Darjeeling tea there is when you have to mix together a plastic envelope containing too much sugar, a small ceramic pot of something which is not milk but has curdled anyway, and a thin brown packet seemingly containing the ashes of a cremated mole. This place smells better.""Oh come now", she retorted, " At least it is better than that dishwater called the cappuccino: at least it doesn’t have dried smoldered vegetables". "Ho hum". We found an empty table, and sat down.
The place was partly crowded. We ordered our Irish coffees.

There was a big TV screen, in front of us. Part of a video jukebox. Enrique-something was mooning. "Isn't he hot?” she whispered. "Huh? He looks like his neck threw up!""Shut-up!!""Now come on", looks aren't everything, in his case - they aren't anything! “One more word from you, and I will hang you, and kiss the mistletoe!! SHUT UP!""MMmPHhhh!!”

Then they came. And they came as a herd. Because of the lack of space, he had to squeeze his enormous bum, between me and the pillar. We held out breaths. The chairs creaked, as he made his way to the other table. "THAT is so big, that I can park my bike in the crack", I whispered. "You'll get us murdered", she whispered back, " Hold your breath, and try not to open your mouth". He was followed by the woman. We huddled closer, holding our breaths. I risked a look back. "THAT is a misplaced mountain range...Aaaa..!!". M had dug her nails in my arm to keep me quite. The other two followed suit. "At this rate, the chair is going to have stretch marks", I said, my face almost pinned down on the table. "Phfut-Fup" M mouthed, equally pinned down. The last of them passed by, like a whisper. I turned back. The guy was like a whisper. "I am sure he uses his tie as a blanket." We straightened up in our chairs, and took the sight in.

He was big. In the ass and face. He definitely looked like one who has a passion for collecting chins. He had three of them. The hair on his head stood like he had combed them with an eggbeater. The eyes were so close set, that you'd have trouble making out which one was which. As if he'd been watching TV in stereo. His chest had slipped a bit, so it was held back by a tight belt around his waist, in a puddle. The woman next to him was hairy. Almost like a chimp with a sweater on. Naked, her tits would look like coconuts. I bet she beats her chest after she has had sex. Her face was blank, almost helpless: much like a marigold after you sprinkle it with DDT. The other woman was apparently a sibling. She was like a psychiatrist's dream, only he would make her lie with her face down on the couch. Medusa, had competition. She was dressed the same was as the other woman, the only difference being; she wore a bright red scarf around her neck. I suspect that was to hide the chest hair. The last guy, in the troupe was so thin that he gave me a complex. So thin, that if he turned sideways, he'd disappear. He wore the tightest pair of jeans, and a paratrooper's jacket. He and the fat guy made a perfect figure of ten.

The chimp in the sweater got up, and parked herself in front of the video jukebox. Then she started molesting the panel. We waited with bated breath. "Oh no! She is making a play list!" M whispered. "They look Punjabi by nature"; I whispered back, "be prepared". The chimp hopped back to the sofa where all of them were sitting, and high-fived the sibling, the other hand on her waist. "That’s, what I call a primitive mating dance", M said. "Yes, but I bet the strap-ons go soft, when they are at it." You are gross".

Daler Mehendi came on screen. With his flashy clothes, and the turban to match. I turned to the Simpsons. Their faces were contorted with ecstasy. Damnit, they even know the lyrics, I thought. The chin-collector was doing a mini-bhangra jig, on his seat. It was not a pleasant sight. Eyes closed, gyrating, he looked like a Hippo, getting his first taste of chewing gum, only, the gum was in the wrong place. "I am sure it is their orgy anthem", I said.

"Do you have a pen and a paper? I want to draw the chin collector. He is very drawable". M handed me the notepad, and a pen. I started drawing. I was adding the detail to the nose hair, when I felt a shadow looming over me. We both gasped. The chin-collector was looming over us. He peered close, his shadow was heavy too.

Chin-collector: "Drawing, are we?"
Me: :Uh...hum...well...
Chin-collector: "A hobby, is it?"
Me: "Uh. sorta. But I also believe that there is a fine line between hobby and mental illness."
Chin-collector: "That looks familiar".
Me: "Sure is. Do you watch Simpsons? That is Homer's cousin, Bummer. He came in the re-run show, in 2001, late evening. Are you a homer fan too?"
Chin-collector: "Ye simpson kya hai?"
Me: "Uh. It’s a series of documentaries on the behavioral pattern of displaced orangutans, in the rain forests of Botswana. Very interesting. You should see it sometime. Full family entertainment.
Chin-collector : (jabbing at the sheet) "Par isne to jacket pehen rakha hai"
Me: "That is the fun part. They actually put the orangutans in an enclosed, man made environment. That’s why the show is called Simpsons."
Chin-collector: Heh heh. (Waving to the herd) "aree dekho ji dekho"

The three of them made a half circle around us, peering close. M shifted, poked me in the ribs, and held her breath.

Chin-collector: "Bhaisaab is artist. Works for Discovery channel"
Chimp with a sweater: "Haiiiiiiin? Sachhi? How sweet ji. Mere to ghar main do hi channel chalte hain: BBC, aur Discovery. Aap kis time aate ho?"
Me: " Oh. Actually I am a research scholar, working with the channel. Our goal is to make the world a better living place, for Chimpanzees, Baboons, orangutans, and the likes."
Psychiatrist's dream: "Maine bhi dekha tha woh waala program. Aap kahan the usme?"
Me: Oh? U missed me by a whisker. I was behind the old orangutan, in the blue t-shirt, and bandar-topi. We have to mingle with them jee. To avoid suspicion".
Chin-collector: " Can you please aa-to-grap this sheet, with the drawing, and give it to me? I collect.
Me: I know. It shows. (More poking in ribs from M)
M: (suddenly) "Oh? Its 7PM!! We'll miss the flight to Cape town." (Grabbing me by the sleeve) Lets go!"
Psychiatrist's dream: "Hehe. Just like the Maruti Advertisement. How sweet."
M: "X'cuse me?"
Me: "Never mind. Ok guys; catch me on Discovery on Wednesday, 2 am sharp. Just remember that the program has adult content. Make sure the kids sleep before you collect".
Chin Collector: "Hain? That we will do jee. Nice meeting you jee."

Footnote: M dragged me out, before we could exchange more pleasantries. I could not even tell him my name, and about my next project in Burkina Faso. M has forbidden me to say the word Discovery and monkey in public forever.