Usually, whenever the metro security stops me to check my bag, I direct an irritated look at them. Once, I said even said, “Ki dada, roj i toh dekhchen, kichu korar hole etodine ek adhta train to hijack kortam.” but he didn’t even look at me.
Today, however, I was very excited about getting my bag checked. An opportunity had presented itself and I was very eager to take it. I had a polythene bag which contained all the bones of the extremities. I wanted the man to check it.
With that plan, I entered the Belgachia metro station. The man at the entrance didn’t even look at me. A setback, yes, but the war was not lost. There was still the man before the magnetic gate. Slowly, I started walking towards the gate. Time stopped as I walked past the desk where the man sat. I looked towards him, trying desperately to look like a man who was upto no good, but he was just too busy digging his nose. I was almost past it when, all of a sudden, the man called me. I turned, like the heroine turns at the climactic scenes of old hindi movies, in slow-mo, and ran towards him.
As I enthusiastically placed my bag on the table, he asked me in a bored voice, “Ki ache?”
“Beshi kichu nei,” I said, “Kintu…ETA ache!”
I whipped out the femur and held it in front of his face. I wanted to use the skull but sadly, it’s in pieces.
His eyes popped out and he took half a step back.
“Ota Ki?” he said, pointing at it like it was a ghost.
“Haddi.” I said pleasantly.
“Nokol toh?” he asked hopefully.
“Na, na! Ashol toh! Ei dekhun!” I said, happily thrusting it forward.
He appeared to have recovered some of his composure, because he stood his ground.
“Manusher na Poshur?” he asked uncertainly.
“Manusher, kaku! Daktari te lage.”
“Kintu metro te kano niye jachcho?” he demanded to know.
“Sob jaigai lekha ache “Do not carry inflammable items, Kothao to bones niye jawa allowed na e kotha lekha nai.”
While he struggled to find an answer to that, the lady checker, who belongs to angshuman’s bone fame, appeared. Her face lit up in recognition at the sight of the bones.
“Tora abar haddi niye esechis?” She asked cheerfully. “Ora majhe majhei haddi niye ashe” She told her companion.
“Jan apni.” Said the man. “Ar anben na!”
I smiled at both of them and left.
N.B: I know that they are doing their jobs, and I really appreciate that...but this was too good an opportunity!
