Sebastian Rodrigues

He kept singing Country Roads to himself in his head. He was tired of singing but he had to. It was 10 years since his album first released. He had thought it would be an instant hit and that he could spread the message of Rock and Roll all over again. He would think constantly about the rock star antics he would display and the tantrums he would throw.

Its been 15 years since his first college band and 10 years since the album bit the dust. He now sings every weekend at the Cafe' Antonio's, a local pub. He's sort of a local celebrity out here. He can let his close friends in without a cover charge and on occasions even get them a free bottle of beer. He throws tantrums at the waiters when they don't entertain his guests.

Its time now. He gets up, carefully adjusting his toupe', so that noone notices and teases the crowd in his customary style "Are you guys ready to be transported...lets do some community singing out here....have you heard this song before".

The leads start and before long the audience sings " Take me hooooome....country roads".

Just when he is singing he remembers the promise he made to Lennon, and then he moves his thoughts and begins the audience bantering all over again.

Resolution

Will pick up all broken pieces of glass...no matter how much time it takes.

Page 32

There is this boy who used to read his daily horrorscope everyday. "Your professional life will spring in new challenges" or "You may finally meet that one person". So the days went on and he read his fate everyday, sometimes with joy and very few times with grief. But he always felt that what was written was true. Even though day after day nothing in print actually was replicated into life, he somehow had the feeling that Page 32 of The Suburban Express was that one divine doctrine which guided his life.

Today was however not an ordinary day. Forty years of life guided by a stringent law. Page 32 said "Today undoubtedly maybe the most special day of your life." But like any ordinary day the smile painted with the renewed hope of an invigorated boxer. Just then the phone rang. It was from a land familiar. It was indeed a special day. They said that shes no more. Page 32 was right for once.

The Story Of Mr B

There was this guy Mr B. His is not a rags to riches or vice-versa tale. He is called Mr B because he was never good enough for an A and never bad enough or average enough for a C. He was more of an A-, but for simplicity sake we call him Mr B. Well getting back to the story, Mr B was born to a middle-class family. All through school, he never did anything special. He wasn't the fastest athlete, but again he wasn't the slowest. He never stood first in school(God knows he tried, but it was always his best friend sitting behind that stole the honours by 1 mark). He had 1 thing going for him and that was the fact that he was liked universally and people thought of him to be a really nice person. His parents loved him for his obedience, his friends for his love and his teachers for his earnest.

Years passed and Mr B went to college without even thinking of the opposite sex. His thoughts only centred around his career and the kind of life he could give his parents(afterall he was a nice guy). Fresh attempts were made again, and they bore the fruit of a second rank in the university. Things were going great till he saw her face. She was so beautiful. Well if we call him Mr B, she had to be Ms A and a perfect A at that. Everything about her was jst so nice. So then Mr B and Ms A are friends and things take a turn towards Heaven 7, and when the signal on St Peters goes green, fate decides a U-turn is called for. Ms A thinks she cant go on with this without parental consent and what was she expecting, her mother to be Elizabeth Taylor.

So now Mr B decides to move on. He gets back to where he left off. He decides its best to go west and chase his dreams. He finishes off all his academic aspirations and lands a great job....6000$ a month. That was not as uch as he called fo, but it was enough. So now that he earns so much, his parents think the next logical thing would definitely be to get him...you know what. He never thought Ms A could be replaced, but as life tells you often the impossible is really not that impossible...only slightly. The wedding is grand, lots of guests who look at the couple, some in admiration with the match, some with amusement, some in jealousy(My daughters husband earns 7000$ and hes been there for the last 4 years, Mr B only for 2 hahahahhahha).

So all is set Mr B still works for the same company, 20 years after starting his professional life. Well there is a difference. He now gets paid 40,000$ a month and is Vice President of the company. Right now he is being awarded by his colleagues. They are congratulating him on having completed 20 years. Someone remarks in the ceremony "Mr B, you really have had a rewarding journey. There would have been so many obstacles. What was it that took you so far?"

Mr B was never too good with words. he preferred to act. But this was an occasion that demanded somethign be said. "Well I saw a lot happening around. What can I say.... I stuck around...that's it...I just stuck around."

Birthday Celebrations

He knows this day wouldn’t be like others. The day wouldn’t pass in mundane conversation. The day would soon roll into the night, slowly the wine would start flowing, and the celebrations would as usual be filled with pomp and joy. His eyes opened to the sensation of a gentle kiss and the words “Happy birthday beta”.

“Thanks ma”, a smile extending almost unwittingly.

The mother slowly enquires whether she should prepare his favorite payasam in celebration of his 22nd birthday, to which he replies with the negative saying he would be at work till the evening after which he obviously would go to some pub and get wasted like he does every year. He doesn’t crawl out of bed like everyday. There is a spring in his step and he feels ready for the next entire year and secretly promises himself that he will make a million dollars. The luxury of an extended bath is taken using Ayurvedic incenses only his mother used, the fragrance had to be just right. He waits for a few minutes, but he can’t resist the temptation anymore. He calls up Raunak first and tells him what they could do for the evening. At first Raunak is perplexed with the question not knowing what he is talking about, but he soon regains poise and cries “Happy birthday you son of a bitch. Haan definitely lets meet for the evening. I’ll give you a call at 6”. To which he tell Raunak that he’s not going to call anyone else and that he had to make the plans for the evenings. He would only be the facilitator and provider of the funds for the booze. He also reminds Raunak that he should call Sheila since she always feels left out and the last one to be invited. They both laugh at the remark and hang up.

He leaves for work and on arriving there he tells his project manager that he has to leave early for the day. On being asked why, he doesn’t reply, as he feels embarrassed to be wished by people with whom he has an acquaintance only on a professional basis. He says “Personal work”, and feels smug about the fact that he doesn’t have to justify anything. The entire day passes and he expects phone calls, which don’t arrive. He knows the fucking bastards have a stupid surprise planned like every year and they have become so darn good at it. So he smiles to himself and waits for 4 pm desperately. A birthday demands that one should leave at least 2 hours before the stipulated time.

Finally the hour arrives and he leaves. He reaches home in a jiffy and enquires with his mum if anyone called. She smiles and says no. He can sense mischief and thinks that the sons of bitches have roped his mum in this time. He switches on the CD player and listens to some Dire Straits. Mark Knopfler sounds better than ever before, seven years after listening to them first Romeo and Juliet sounds like its woven with a completely different tune. The hours pass and the music blends with the mood. There is however one problem, its 8 pm and there is no sign of any phone call. The night slowly blends into its prime and his mother asks him if he’s sure he doesn’t want dinner. He says no and realizes that the guys are playing this real well this year. She smiles and says that she’s going to bed. He wishes her a goodnight and refuses to play in by sulking.

The night waxes while the mood goes into an inverse proportion. Eleven in the night and the feeling soon sinks in that there isn’t going to be any celebration. He is 22 and that’s it. Its 12 and he is a day older than twenty-two. There is no surprise. He twitches, but he knows the next best thing to do. He goes up to his mother’s bed and gives her a shake.

“Hey ma…. Say turns out my friends got caught up with something. They just gave me a call. Could you do me a favor? That payasam you were talking to me about in the morning….”

“Sure beta… Just give me an hour’s time. It’ll be perfect.”

Butterfly Man Goes Shopping

The door opened with a creepy creek of a sound. It was as if it was straight out of a Hitchcock novel, only difference being I never knew the ambience in Hitchcock novels would stink so much. Ward 55 it read. "Ah Mr Fowler I was expecting you", the man had tiny glasses but they were as thick as the glacier that sank the Titanic. "Mature Larva hey....thats an original even by Cartalunia's standards. So what will you go for? We have the purple regular, the large orange and cyan stripes. Oh what the hell just choose from our array."

The wardrobe was great. Ralph Lauren would have bowed with reverence. The tunics were such great fabric. Just what a superhero needs when flying on a mission to save the world from evil. Lose near the groin, tight near the forearms so the chicks can ogle at your awesome bisceps. Ok, I didn't have awesome bisceps at that point of time. Infact I was obese. But, I was a superhero so the muscles were part of the package. It wasn't a matter of worry. "That one. The green background with the rainbow stripes, please."

"Fine here you go. That'll be 2.99."
"What!!!! Do I have to pay for the suit? After all that Im gonna be doing for the welfare of our Terra Ferma." I had never addressed Planet Earth with that name before. Infact I didnt know it could be addressed that way. It had to be my superpowers sinking in. I handed over the 2.99 with reluctance.

I was about to leave when it suddenly struck me. "Hey how the fuck am I to fight these baddies. Strangle them with a daffodil noose or something."

"Oh..yes yes.. I forgot.....Here is your weapon." And he tossed a tiny gun. It felt like a plastic gun."

"Hey funny Hitchcock guy...what is this weenie?"

"It's a plastic gun".
I lost my patience...."I know that you son of a bitch...what the fuck does it do?"

"Ooh Mr Fowler. It fires fresh nectar, only with added sugar". He said it with a wry smile and added a wink in the end.

"What the fuck!!! Am I to terrorize villains witha nectar gun and hope they diea slow painful death suffering from Diabetes".

"You learn quickly Mr Fowler. That is precisely what you will be doing."

I was frustrated, "Fine just give me the gun, Ill fill my own liquid in it. And Ill make sure its deadlier." I stood up to leave.

"Just a minute Mr Fowler. Your training begins tomorrow morning at 4.30 Am sharp".

I was a superhero now and noone dictates terms to me, so I said "Whatever".

"And 1 more thing Mr Fowler, could you please control your expletives....afterall you area role model to children and the world alike."

I found myself with the same reply "Whatever".

Prelude--Before the Adventures

The serum started taking it's toll. My head started spinning. "Doc....what was that crap you made me drink?". I was left with no choice, after being convicted of stealing the Candy bar. It was Snickers and I couldn't help it. Yes admit it I am a sucker for groundnut chocolates and it was right infront of me. What can I do if the bastard sells it at a 150% premium. Am I to be a victim of such opressive multinational forces. I decided to fight back and so I stole it. Yes, I did. But even Snickers is not motivation enough if I knew what I would be subjected to once I was convicted. Prison life can get real tough. Mad scientists were a myth to me. That was before I came face to face, eye to eye with Dr Jake Cartalunia. Some Spanish son of a bitch, in the prison medical squad(merely present because of his eccentricity thought and his wicked Spanish accent). His eyes lit up when he first saw me, it was as if he scented my frail body and was waiting for it since his last birth when he was a tree mongoose.

"Vat a fine young boy. I like zis boy's bones, vud blend real vell wid ze anti-genetic emulsifier, i zink". Pardon my loss of memory is making me describe his accent to be German. After the serum I have forgotten what Spanish sounds like. This was just so that you get the gist that he spoke different and he spoke evil.

Next thing I knew I was tied up. My mouth gagged. At first that gave me the impression that I was going to be vaccinated with the serum. But I then it surprised me and infact I was even amused when they removed the gag and made me consume the serum orally. "What a bunch of nincompoops, I thought to myself". That thought soon vanished when 30 ml of the anti-genetic emulsifier was flushed down my throat. I began to wonder if the serum as the name suggested was supposed to kill my genes and emulsify them till I lost my identity. But I was soon to realise that the name was just a result of the fancy of Cartalunia and his lack of any proper knowledge of ENglish. On the contrary, the serum would strengthen that quality in me which was most forthcoming and visible and would enhance them to turn me into an extreme case of the symptom.

That made me dread. I didnt want to know what colourful and sweet sensing creature I was going to turn to. My head was spinning. Infact the rotation was 3D atleast I could have sworn that it was more than 360 degrees. I could sense a protrusion growing from my forehead. Infact there were 2. "No, NO...." , I screamt. I could feel my forearms growing yellow, my feet growing pink, my tummy all orange. Actually I saw it and not felt it. Afterall humans are not trained to sense changes in colour. Anyways getting back to the point, I had not felt this way since I had seen people crapping on the railway tracks during my last visit to India.

It couldn't be, I finally realised what the serum was turning me into. But no, I didnt want this, not 24 hours a day atleast. I knew this form was going to be my job, but I needed to be human to avoid the cognition of the common man. I was already resigned to the fact that, I now had the burden of being the only real superhero. "Doc I accept my fate. I know this cant be reversed a 100%. But just something to hide my present identity. I know you could do it. You gotta have a remedy for partial genetic repair, if I may call it so." Cartalunia gleamed, "Ofcourse I do. Take zis". He handed over a glass which was full with a white liquid. I gulped it down without thinking. It had a strange taste." What was that?". The doc was taken aback,"You dont recognize ze glass of milk". I was sort of embarassed, afterall I had never tasted milk without to 2 tea-spoons of Bournvita.
"Go son. From tomorrow you have ze responsibiltiy of saving nature. You will protect all of vegetation. And the rule that shall guide you is "Green is better than Red, except when it's meat".
"Okay doc I get it, I can already feel the cries of the daffodils and the long spaces of grass being devoured by merciless sheep. I am mentally sworn to protect them. But I need a name. I know what I have become but I need a name and a suit and all that".

"Son, from today you are ze one and only BUTTERFLY MAN. And before you leave you may collect your suit from Ward 55. Wait a second Ill just hand over the cleaning bill".