Newsmakers

“Bhai, Bhoopi’s younger brother is wanting to stay here for three months. He is wanting to take some classes.” I am telling my He.

“But you were only saying when my sister’s son was wanting to come on the weekend that it was being too much hassle because Raju, the mundu is on leave.” My He is saying.

“Bhoopi’s younger brother is being different.”

“How he is being different, hain? Just because he is being your old ashiq’s brother, he is different?”

“He is being singer with soul of artist”, I am saying indignantly.” Is your sister’s son being singer with soul of artist?”

“No, but he is doing good bhangra.”

“All boys of Punjab are doing bhangra. Its being no big deal. Bhoopi’s brother is competing for Voice of Punjab and he is training with one reached guruji.”

“Reached? Where he has this guruji ‘reached’?”

“Its being called ‘pahunche hue’ in cultured society. He will be going to Guruji for one hour in the day and doing riyaz for rest of the day at home.” Bhoopi’s brother is being expected next morning. Bell is ringing and I’m rushing to do the greetings. One fellow in dirty kurta pyjama and oily hairs in ponytail is standing there with one air bag and harmonium.

“Bhai, we have already given to the Jagrata collections.” I am telling and trying to close door.

“Preeto ji, I am being Bhoopi’s brother” the oily creature is saying.

Bhoopie’s brother is settling in. I am getting samosa and gulabjamun for him.

He is telling, “No, no! I am eating only fruits. Purity of food will bring purity of thoughts and voice.”

“Wah! What high thoughts Bhoopi’s brother is having” I am telling my He who is stuffing himself on Amritsari fish fry!

“I will be starting classes tomorrow with Guruji.

Guruji is my inspiration, guruji is perfection, guruji is…”

“Why he is being so sorry?” My He is asking me.

“Sorry?”

“Why he is pulling ears again and again?”

“OFO! That’s being mark of respect for guruji!”

“Kamal hai, yaar!”

Next morning…
“Hai rabba! What this sound is? Cats are fighting outside or what?” I am waking up suddenly to horrid sound.

“Sawere sawere where these mangtas have come from (where have these mendicants come from early in the morning?)?” My He is getting up from his snorings.

“Mummy, mummy! Are you all right? I am hearing some strangled sounds! Is daddy having heart attack or something?” Prince, my son, is running into my room.

“Someone has put on some murder picture on TV or what?” Lovely, my elder daughter is walking in yawning.

We are all listening in silence. Sound is coming from guest room. Hai rabba! Bhoopi’s brother is being there. Something terrible is happening to him. What face will I show to Bhoopi? We are all rushing to the room and opening door.

Bhoopi’s brother is playing harmonium and SINGING!

Everyone in my family is turning and looking at me.

“Doesn’t matter,” I am saying in a weak voice. “Its only 59 more days….!”