Humor
The Fight — Why We Must Read The Local News
Local news is like watching a cartoon show, except, it is real life
I always cast my eyes on the local news each morning without fail. Obviously, most of it is awful, and if one dwells on it, pretty capable of sending us down a rabbit-hole of depression.
And then sometimes, there is a news item that is so incredulous, that you wonder if you are actually reading a comic strip. Wait! Comic strips arise from life, don’t they?
Take this news item, for example. Read carefully or you might miss the plot. Of course, all names have been changed to protect their identity. But if you are super curious, you could look up the local newspaper where the names have not been changed at all.
I have written it the way I saw the drama unfold. The boring newspaper reported this in about 5 sentences.
Two families lived in a neighborhood. They are neighbors and also relatives. So far, so good. Ramu and Mayamma live in one house. Vikram and Manjula live in the other.
One drizzly evening, when everyone was quietly going about their work at home, Ramu heard a loud knock on his door.
He opened the door and smiled warmly when he saw Vikram and Manjula. But they did not return the smile. Instead, Manjula started shouting loudly. It took a while for Ramu to figure out what she was saying since she was all volume and no clarity.
Apparently, there was mud on their door and wall and for some reason, Manjula insisted that Ramu and Mayamma had smeared it on their door.
No amount of reasoning by Ramu helped. The more he spoke, the angrier Manjula became. Her rants grew louder, and Vikram, who had been standing around doing nothing was spurred into action by all this and joined the shout fest.
One thing led to the other and before anyone knew what was happening, Ramu had slapped Vikram. Or maybe Vikram had slapped Ramu. No one knows who slapped whom first. A classic case of chicken and egg.
Once the menfolk had started the slapping festival, the women were not ones to be left out of the excitement. They hitched up their sarees, grabbed each other, and began a wrestling match. The rain and the slushy mud on the road added to the drama and before long no one could tell Manjula from Mayamma. They were both in sarees and covered in brown slush from head to toe.
By then, news about this exciting event had spread, and the good neighbors had gathered around to encourage the wrestlers and slappers further. It was a dull evening, and with nothing interesting on TV, this was too good to miss.
Meanwhile, Vikram, whose door was sullied with mud decided to take revenge. Merely slapping Ramu was not satisfying enough. If they counted the slaps and counter slaps, they were probably equal by now. No, this called for war!
Vikram rushed out of Ramu’s house, picked up some rocks on the way, and ran up to his own roof. As the audience watched with bated breath, Vikram started hurling the rocks onto the asbestos sheet roof of Ramu’s house.
Vikram’s aim was spectacular for someone who had never practiced hurling rocks on others’ roofs, ever. Pretty soon, Ramu’s roof had tiny chinks. Vikram gave everyone below a highly satisfied smirk and descended the stairs from his own roof.
Sadly, Vikram had gone a bit too far. As everyone watched, there was a collective roar as Ramu’s frail asbestos roof caved in completely.
This was all too much for Mayamma. She grabbed a branch that was nearby and started pounding Manjula on her head. Manjula sustained wounds, obviously, and the crowds roared in approval because their show just got gorier.
Manjula, who was already incensed by the mud on her door, grabbed another branch and returned blow for blow. Pretty soon Mayamma was bleeding copiously too.
Suddenly Vikram and Ramu stopped fighting. They saw a bizarre scene. Both women were covered in brown slush, bleeding profusely, and fighting valiantly with their respective branches. The crowds were berserk with excitement. They had already picked sides and formed two teams. No one was interested in Ramu and Vikram anymore.
Ramu and Vikram felt deflated. All the adrenalin drained out, and they realized that they had to intervene before the wives fought unto death like the gladiators of yore.
The men pulled the wives apart and rushed them to the hospital. Mayamma needed 16 stitches on her head and Manjula needed 17. Manjula felt like she was the winner, having earned one stitch more. That extra stitch would serve as a trophy for a long time. Or until the next time.
Proudly displaying their respective stitches, Manjula and Mayamma were brought home together. The neighborhood gathered to cheer the local heroes. No one cared to remember why they fought in the first place.
The next day found Vikram and Ramu working together to repair the broken asbestos roof of Ramu’s house.
