Episode I: Ants
All the black ants had gathered to discuss the fate of one of their own. The Head of the Ant Family spoke first.
"We have gathered here to discuss the heinous act committed by one of our mate. Our world has never experienced a crime like this and therefore it is my humble request to all of you to co-operate in discussing the matter calmly. We must also judge whether the crime committed is actually a crime. The convict,here,has had a commendable reputation for being an honest ant and a strict disciplinarian. He had been the Supervisor of building the new Anthill. However,according to reports it has been seen that the sand that was being used for building the Anthill was not pure. So the question that arises. . ."
The shrill cry of a female ant broke out from among the gathered ants.
"But he is a very honest ant. He is my only son. He is not capable of such an act. He is a simple ant whose dream has always been to be a percussionist. He can't steal. He is not a thief."
The sudden interruption of the Head of the Ant Family's speech by the mother of the Guilty Ant had enraged the other ants.
"This is nothing but betrayal. We demand his death. We demand his death."
Episode II: The Two Thieves
A few meters away from where the ants were gathered,two thieves were sitting on an wooden bench in front of a closed tea stall,smoking weed. One of them muttered in a not so determined voice.
"I firmly believe that thievery should be made legal."
"And why is that?" said the other thief whose surname was Sarkar.
"What will we eat then,huh? Money,my friend,we need some damn money to keep our stomach from staying empty."
"But I can't see the point why it should be made legal".
"Because the Government does not provide jobs for the young people. You see,all the students passing out of private colleges mostly remain jobless. Why? They pay,don't they? Then why can't they get a job? They pay a fortune to study and at the end of it all,only a handful of students from colleges run by the Government get six figure salaries. Government? Yes. Obviously. It is the Government's fault. All of it.
Oh! What's this sound? Is it the siren of the police van?
"No. No,it's the percussionist."
"Oh! So,as I was saying,these private colleges should be banned. A law should be passed. And who would pass the law? The Government. The same old fucking Government. And thievery? You speak of thievery?
The people up there are all thieves,aren't they?
Listen to the percussionist. I bet he has got a story of his own. Maybe his music was not accepted by the society."
The other thief was calmly gazing at his friend.
He said,"It's the weed speaking,my friend. Not you."
"Yes. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe it is the weed. But I'm speaking,ain't I? I am a thief and I am speaking and your surname is Sarkar. Yes. You are Sarkar. A thief too. Sarkar. The Government. Fuck You".
Episode III: The Percussionist
Just across the road there was a hut. A world. The percussionist's world. The hut was the percussionist's world. He knew he was a musician. A musician who was not famous. He always said to himself that he made music for his own self. For his own mind. A mind which was intoxicated with something far more stronger than weed. He knew that two thieves were smoking weed just across the road. The were the same thieves. The thieves who had stolen his wife's pet parrot a fortnight before she died while delivering her first baby. He did not want to remember that day. That grief.
From that day the hut became his world. The world,where the sensuous odour of his wife still lingered. In his imagination. In his intoxicated imagination. In his music. In his percussion. He still made love to his beautiful wife. But he did not consider himself a family man anymore,after his wife's death. He was a percussionist.
All the black ants had gathered to discuss the fate of one of their own. The Head of the Ant Family spoke first.
"We have gathered here to discuss the heinous act committed by one of our mate. Our world has never experienced a crime like this and therefore it is my humble request to all of you to co-operate in discussing the matter calmly. We must also judge whether the crime committed is actually a crime. The convict,here,has had a commendable reputation for being an honest ant and a strict disciplinarian. He had been the Supervisor of building the new Anthill. However,according to reports it has been seen that the sand that was being used for building the Anthill was not pure. So the question that arises. . ."
The shrill cry of a female ant broke out from among the gathered ants.
"But he is a very honest ant. He is my only son. He is not capable of such an act. He is a simple ant whose dream has always been to be a percussionist. He can't steal. He is not a thief."
The sudden interruption of the Head of the Ant Family's speech by the mother of the Guilty Ant had enraged the other ants.
"This is nothing but betrayal. We demand his death. We demand his death."
Episode II: The Two Thieves
A few meters away from where the ants were gathered,two thieves were sitting on an wooden bench in front of a closed tea stall,smoking weed. One of them muttered in a not so determined voice.
"I firmly believe that thievery should be made legal."
"And why is that?" said the other thief whose surname was Sarkar.
"What will we eat then,huh? Money,my friend,we need some damn money to keep our stomach from staying empty."
"But I can't see the point why it should be made legal".
"Because the Government does not provide jobs for the young people. You see,all the students passing out of private colleges mostly remain jobless. Why? They pay,don't they? Then why can't they get a job? They pay a fortune to study and at the end of it all,only a handful of students from colleges run by the Government get six figure salaries. Government? Yes. Obviously. It is the Government's fault. All of it.
Oh! What's this sound? Is it the siren of the police van?
"No. No,it's the percussionist."
"Oh! So,as I was saying,these private colleges should be banned. A law should be passed. And who would pass the law? The Government. The same old fucking Government. And thievery? You speak of thievery?
The people up there are all thieves,aren't they?
Listen to the percussionist. I bet he has got a story of his own. Maybe his music was not accepted by the society."
The other thief was calmly gazing at his friend.
He said,"It's the weed speaking,my friend. Not you."
"Yes. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe it is the weed. But I'm speaking,ain't I? I am a thief and I am speaking and your surname is Sarkar. Yes. You are Sarkar. A thief too. Sarkar. The Government. Fuck You".
Episode III: The Percussionist
Just across the road there was a hut. A world. The percussionist's world. The hut was the percussionist's world. He knew he was a musician. A musician who was not famous. He always said to himself that he made music for his own self. For his own mind. A mind which was intoxicated with something far more stronger than weed. He knew that two thieves were smoking weed just across the road. The were the same thieves. The thieves who had stolen his wife's pet parrot a fortnight before she died while delivering her first baby. He did not want to remember that day. That grief.
From that day the hut became his world. The world,where the sensuous odour of his wife still lingered. In his imagination. In his intoxicated imagination. In his music. In his percussion. He still made love to his beautiful wife. But he did not consider himself a family man anymore,after his wife's death. He was a percussionist.
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