Gent Sits On Her Plait!

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“Hoooh!” Gent hooted, mighty amused. Horse grooming wasn’t his favorite travel-time read but now that he’d bought himself the book at the railway station… he had to put himself to read it lest Angel Face think he was being rather flippant.

“Hoooh!” He hooted again, rather loudly looking at the picture of a horse’s tail – a plaited tail. “Horsy plait!” he dug Angel Face in the rib and showed her the plait, then looked around to see who else he could show it to. Unlike Gent, they were all minding their own business. Even Angel Face hardly looked his way. What a boring world thought Gent before he shut his eyes and promptly proceeded to snore.

Only a while had passed or so it seemed before he was being roughed up.

Oh! He’d arrived at … now where was he headed? Never mind. But they’d arrived. Angel Face was already shuffling to the exit, which meant he had to follow suit.

The taxi ride into town and further into the village was uneventful, if you’d discount Gent spotting a grandma with a goatee. He was tempted to hoot again. But a quick glance around the cab told him the atmosphere wasn’t conducive to hoots. "Dude! Tarzan would ditch Jane to swing from that goatee…" he told himself with a disappointed chuckle "... and no one even noticed?". Oh well, this world was a disappointment at times but it all turns out right as a whistle soon enough... he reflected with some glee.

Finally they were at the ancient villa and Gent suddenly remembered he was here for a dear friends wedding. A wedding! How exciting!

The celebration meal was a feast fit for kings served up on quaint plantain leaves.

Gent was hypnotized. Not as, you’d imagine, by the sumptuous spread before him but rather by the gulab jamun. This one was a mother, he decided. He wasn’t sure he should have it. It remained him of … no; he wouldn’t mention it to anyone. But this one was a mother! He decided he wouldn’t touch it and folded the leaf – a polite gesture that he was done and satisfied.

Ouch! Someone had just dug him in the rib. That hurt! But Gent couldn’t say as much because he’d just spotted his jumbo gulab jamun leave his leaf-plate and roll away!

However did that mother manage to roll off his leaf? Gent jumped to action and grabbed the jamun before it did any damage, swiftly confining it within the folded plantain leaf. But not before a bunch of little girls had seen it. The giggling that broke out made Gent blush. He had to get away.

He was only away a while when he was called for. Ah photographs! They wanted to take his picture along with the rest of the merry people. There was his dear friend waving him down besides his brand new wife.

And so Gent placed himself in front of the camera. Did he hear a whimper? No. He won’t be tricked here. He sat back firmly as if to cement his resolve.

There! There goes that whimper again. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the bride besides him looking his way. Now, why would she do that? And why would someone tug at his backside? The photographer was still fussing about. So Gent hazarded a quick glance towards the bride.

Horrors! Her face was set tight and askew like she was being pulled to one side. And her eyes were welling up with the strain. She was almost gasping. Perhaps she needs some water thought Gent. But who was that tugging at his backside?

He sprang up in annoyance, just as the beautiful bride straightened up and sighed in relief. Gent had been sitting on her elaborate plait all along!
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3 comments:

rema mohandas said...

A refreshing read

Instinctive Traveller said...

thank you.

Hearing Aids said...

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