The African Version.

1. Lost the ball to the bushes. It was the ball Asad and Hasan needed. Or was it Ovaish? It was the ball I tried to look for in the bushes after jumping over another door which was already open. Chetan Sports And Science Gallery was open when I returned from library but not in morning. I had to imagine a ball in my hand and do a kind of pantomime until I realized it was easier to throw stones: to be a running catapult bowler. Mark Signature. Budget.

2. A doctor cum badminton player had forgotten his mobile phone on his bike and asked me to dial his phone number. It was easily found but it did seem suspicious. Later on poha shop a mafia guy was paying weekly fees to a certain Maharaj while a police jeep was standing besides it: akin to truck which let black smog on my face when I was standing under the neem tree. The flashing of Sun on another vehicle’s body was also a reminder of the day that Big Boss tshirt guy came asking the road to Cancer hospital in Kishanganj or was it Bijawar?

3. I bowled fifty times. Despite having wasted my time to search for it in the bushes. I learned to publish again on Blogger’s World but the title of the post needs to be figured out.

4. I had a nice time reading in the library: the story of a rabbit and a tortoise you have heard. I had also heard it: it taught patience. Now: about the African version: tortoise is impatient. It has too many identical pairs who hide in places. As race begins: the hare runs fast without taking any break and yet finds a tortoise he had left behind, reaching to the finishing line faster than him. The winner tells him: you took a nap didn’t you? He says: no, I didn’t. Then the winner says: you were hypnotized when you reached under the neem tree. You woke up three hours later but felt as if it was just a blink of an eye. The rabbit was speechless.


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