The sun was some quarters away from setting on the horizon across the ocean beach of Malabar coast just ahead of me. Sitting next to me on the boulevard, an old German tourist was complaining of no one turning up on time. I pulled up the great dialogue from “Öutsourcing” movie and tried to impress the tourist by saying, “Dont resist this country, be a part of it, then you will enjoy it.”. She looked at me puzzled.
I could not enjoy the glory of being a smooth talker for long. Two teen age boys, with slightly grown beard appeared next to us. With a strong accent, one of them asked me, “Where are you from, Sir?””. Hesitating to tell him, who I was, I lied to him. “I am from Delhi.” He turned to the German tourist, where are you from, ma’m. I am from Germany, Frankfurt, she said. Öh! I have studied German history” and he started talking with glee in his eyes revealing his knowledge of ancient Germany.
Where are you from? I interrupted him. I am from x%g$f^h town. I came here today to give my BA exam. I am studying history. I believe that British have been vilified in the history of our state. I want to do research and set it right. “Thats very good”, I cautioned him, before he would go off a tangent again.
He took my hint and instead turned to the German tourist, “Wïll you pray for my success?, he asked the German tourist. She turned her face towards me, puzzled, almost asking me to extricate her from the situation. Yes, off course, she will pray for you, I will also pray for you, good luck to you both, I said. The satisfied boys said good bye and left.
The German tourist, Angella, turned to me, and how should I pray for this boy. I said to her, drawing upon my experience of the state, go to Ganapati temple and break a coconut for him. Half an hour later, I was in Ganapathy temple with her. As we got off the auto, I surveyed the site. We were standing on the footpath corner of a round about where the temple is. Our path to the temple entrance was blocked by an old woman, selling coconuts as they were spilling over the entire footpath. The german tourist bought a coconut for the two boys and we entered the temple. The floor of the outer court was laid with rough granite stone, wet and slimy but non-slippery.
A strong smell which appeared familiar covered me all over. I turned around to see a pile of large gunny bags, filled to their seems, laid down in the courtyard. The bags were wet and their contents were seeping the slime on the granite below. Phtuuk, I heard an explosion. I ducked to escape and my head turned in time to see a woman in a yellowish tinged saree, with a golden border and wearing a green blouse, recoiling back after having thrown what must have been a hand grenade. I was alarmed as was Angella. The crowds were not perturbed by the explosion although some people’s clothes got wet from the sprinkles.
The woman after discharging her armory, retreated from her position. Another woman, took her place and threw what I had mistaken to be a grenade into specially designed pit. Phtuuk, another explosion, water of the coconut flying in all directions, lucky devotees were being sprinkled with the holy water. I turned towards Angella only to find that she had disappeared. She reappeared at the target and hurled her coconut with sufficient force to cause another explosion.
Breaking a coconut to pass exams, an expression I had heard since childhood was realized today.