The Alarm Bell

I normally don’t read the first page of the newspaper. The reason for this can be
presented in a very philosophical way by saying, “I’m tired of reading the news
of killings and murders and blasts. I don’t want to be aware of man’s cruelty for
his own selfish greed in achieving which he also misguides other people to follow
his wrong path.” Or I can say in as a funky young man, “What’s the benefit in
reading those news, anyway I’ll come across them with greater detail in the TV
news.”

There may be any reason for it in my case for your liking, but the fact is I don’t
read the first page unless of course there is something too interesting to read,
most often if the main picture of the first page follows it. The basic purpose of
reading the newspaper, as may be evident now to my intelligent reader is not
news but pictures and pictures too not of the Prime ministers or Presidents but of
beautiful females of Hollywood, though the Bollywood ones will not be denied
sight. My favorites remain the Hollywood beauties though (see Catherine Zeta
Zones).

So it happened that one day I was reading The Shillong Times. It is not a paper
where you get many pictures but it is read more for worldly purposes like
knowing about when is the next bandh etc. The second page of The Shillong
Times carries the Wanted Columns. Normally I don’t care to go through them,
but this day we talk about was perhaps less normal.

There was one ad that caught my eye. “WANTED ACTORS AND ACTORESSES FOR
A HINDI TV SHOW BASED IN GUWAHATI”

I didn’t even care to react to it and moved on to the next column. After finishing
the page I started it all over again thinking that I may not have missed anything
important. Again the same ad. This time I read it word by word, the way I
sometimes study when I’m not getting something. Then suddenly without any
intention I turn around towards my mirror. The lights were off but still a faint
image of myself was visible. It looked good enough. I mean what’s good and
what’s bad. God has made everyone the same. Everyone has a nose, two ears,
two eyes. I have those, plus my face is beautiful enough. What is beauty after
all? It is correctness, correct position of the sensing objects, correct color, correct
curves etc. Mine are correct.

I may not be among the 100 most handsome men of the world, but I am for sure
in the top billion. Even if I am in the billionth position, I leave more than five
billion behind. Then I also felt a spark and my mind led me to the compliments
that the Smitas, Ushas, Rekhas, Sumans and Anamikas had given me. Smita
used to say I have the gravity that attracts people towards me. Rekha said I’m
more beautiful than the most beautiful flower, Usha said she’ll be lucky, Suman
said its difficult to find a boy like me with a diya in hand and Anamika, she had a
whole ghazal for me, “tera chehra hai aaine jaisa…” Infact Anamika had even
advised me once to join a modeling contest.

Ah those compliments, and those eyes…that senior, that life science student,
that 2nd yr, that Anjana, that Salwar wali and so many more…

So I thought I could give it a try, it wont cost me anything.

So turning around, hastily I turned ON the light and saw that rusty, pimpled,
spotted and wrinkled face. I stood silent for some time in front of the mirror.
What word could I utter, what feeling could I feel? Then suddenly I started
laughing loudly at myself…

I was going through the paper again, and thinking that whenever I think I am
getting uglier, girls compliment me more. So what if I don’t like myself, the
people concerned do and it’s not just a non-pimpled and non-marked faces that
have made it big on the screen. I have seen Shahid Kapoor without make-up, he
has more than 20 pimples on his face, I have only 18!

I will try.

Turned around (no mirror this time), I moved directly to the bathroom. Oh forgot
to take the new razor. Rushed back to the room for the same and while coming
back looked at the mirror again in the dark…”NOT BAD”.

OK, so I’ve got to shave well today as I look worth looking at only when I’m
perfectly shaven. Though the perfection of a perfect shave reduces in my case as
I unintentionally always leave some hair near the nose, beside the lip, in the
neck, near the ear etc.

After the shaving and bathing and the other getting-ready-formalities, I had to
choose a wearable dress. A jeans is compulsory, I thought and that yellow-black
T-shirt.

OK then, perfectly shaven, jeans T-shirt, simply looking Tip-Top.

It is quite obvious that I’d not go walking, the travel to the first step of dreamed
glory had to be in a taxi. There was traffic as always. Near the Kimfa Restaurant I
saw a funky guy with cropped hair, and on his T-shirt were written these
beautiful words…

YOU CAN FOOL SOME OF THE PEOPLE ALL THE TIME

YOU CAN FOOL ALL THE PEOPLE SOME OF THE TIME

BUT YOU CANT FOOL ALL THE PEOPLE ALL THE TIME.

…and the alarm bell rang.

SKS