The king has emerged ,resplendent,, with a gleaming shield and a shining sword.

The colony watchman has come with the register. There is a notice written therein. The municipal councilor and a local political bigwig are visiting the colony to plant trees and to.oversee the emptying of the sewage pond at 10 a.m. All are cardially invited to grace the. occasion and make the event a grand success.I sign and ask him, ” Where is the card, it is said I am cardially invited?”. The watchman looks at me as he would, at a fool, and goes away.
I go out to the likely venue, the walled-off park with the sewage pond at a corner within it, at 9.58 a.m. sharp. No sign of any activity, there. I go to the place where the watchman usually sits, smoking a beedi, no, it is not at the gateway to the colony, but a cosy cool place beneath a big tree at a farthest corner of the colony. The watchman says, the distinguished visitors are expected to grace the colony at about 3 in the afternoon.
I shrug and return home. I find on the way back, that the roads are swept clean and the road is marked with chalk on either side all along towards the venue, to ensure that the vehicle-driver does not have any trouble in reaching the place.
I am having my siesta. The TV , silent since about an hour comes on noisily, waking me up from my yoga-sleep.. We have a scheduled power cut for an hour in the afternoon to allow us respite from the perennial scourge of the TV. This is besides several other interruptions, for a few minutes or more every other hour or so.The position has eased somewhat with the onset of the monsoon,, but the scheduled interruption persists, in the interest of my siesta and sanity.
It is a quarter-less three. I hurriedly get dressed and soon step out of the house and trudge towards the park. The park is a park only in name, there is a big tree about two or three decades old, besides clumps of weeds all around.
Soon horns-blaring, a few cars, lot mores bikes and a few scooters invade the colony and make a bee way along towards the venue, guided by the chalk lines along the road.
The VIPs, their gunmen and the customary videographer and a few photographers to boot, alight from their Qualises, Sumos and Scorpios . The tree-planting, platitude mouthing, snack-munching-tea-ceremony over, the visitors move towards the sewage pond. There is a van with an integral sewage pump and tank mounted on it and festooned with confetti, parked there with the driver and the contractor standing beside it. The ViPs greet the contractor cardially, nay, cordially. The guy apparently is the brother-in-law of one of the VIPs.
The party over I return to the mayhem being perpetrated by two lady-villains against each other. on my innocent TV.
I switch it off and take up my news-paper to resume my review of happenings across the world. I come to the item titled, “The cup that failed to cheer Cameron.” Apparently, a waitress in a little-known English cafe became famous, no, not notorious, after failing to recognize, the British Prime Minister, David Cameron, and refusing to serve him tea saying she was too busy serving other customers. Reportedly it is not for the first time that the poor chap was rebuffed so. It so happened earlier too, to him in Italy.
I for one, feel, it was the Prime Minister himself to blame for his discomfiture, for having been presumptuous and cocky in assuming that he would be readily recognized and promptly served out of turn, when devoid of all the accoutrements and the pomp and pageant that normally should go with such an exalted office, Even if only it is to attend the Armed Forces Day celebrations and not his Diamond Jubilee.
I switch on the TV. A Kuchipudi ballet is coming on. The singer is loudly declaring, ” Raju vedale Ravi tejamulalaraga, kudi edamala dal-kattulu merayaga.” ,- The king is emerging in state , blazing forth like the very Sun, with the shield on his right and a sword on his left, gleaming and ……….”

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About versa kay

Agile, keen, versatile,considerate,patient
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