But there is a problem; it does not stick. But, but again, but then again, we live in hope. Someday it will stop to drop and just stay there. Stick. Can you see it? No? I am giving you the best view possible at this time and angle. I am bringing you up and close, or down and close to be precise. You may be able to see it, bend a little? No? It’s there, but it is probably sticking. It isn’t giving. Bend lower, just a bit, look under. Just try, it is there, I can feel it, but maybe you cannot see it. I did my best. It remains stuck. Like some abominable poster on a wall. You know those things they put your name on and do not even bother with your photograph. That’s not on. You put my name on a poster and you do not put my picture? What a shame, yaar? Nahin chalega. Poster is for posterity, and posterity is for me, so I should be there, naa! Poster without my picture is quite impostor type, yaar. Chalo chhodo, poster-shoster, daalo toaster mein, let it roast. That is not the issue. The issue is that this is not issuing, you know, that it is sticking and it is not giving. It is STICKING. Where’s the stoolkit? Stoolkit kahan hai? Shit happens. It has happened. Here. To me. Can you not see? No, of course you cannot, you said so, the angle is wrong. Or the angle is what, among many many things, I cannot get right. But only at the moment, only at the moment. Understand. Please. Conditions apply. You know, they always do. Conditions apply. I love you, kintu, parantu... There will be conditions in which I shan’t be able to. You know, love you. Conditions apply. Conditions apply more often than you apply conditioners. You get the drift.
How I wish this would get the drift too, this thing that sticks and won’t give, this pasty poster sort of thing that has arrived with the purpose of getting stuck, as if that were its dharma and karma. How many folks do that in this day and age, sticking to dharma and karma? And if it is any help, let me put it on notarised stamp paper that the space it is sticking to is called neither dharma nor karma. I shall submit it in court, a signed affidavit to that effect. But the courts these days, naa, when you go there seeking justice, they too have begun to say, just stick it.
And I can’t find my blooming stoolkit? Who took it? Let me see what I can do. Police report? Will it work? They stole my stoolkit? And look they are using my stoolkit. And my stoolkit in their hands is an illegitimate stoolkit? Will that work? Someone tell me, please, it is gnawing at me, this thing that is sticking to me like a poster!
If need be I shall use a pin, many pins. The stoolkit used to have a pin. I will need many pins. I shall ransack the pincushion and let a cushion be a cushion and take all the pins away. And make this sticky thing give. It may be a little painful, with all those pins pressed in, you know, into all those parts, you know, pardon me for teasing the explicit, but you know. Achchha theek hai. We have had enough. Pins will be pins. And we will do what we do with pins, or what they are meant for. We will push the pins in. There is no other way now. Or we shall use the claws. You see the claws? Of course, you can. What else are we to do? We have posters, you see. Sticky ones. What are we to do with such posters? Stick them under the mattress? There was a time we could do that, yes, but now there are no mattresses.
We took them all to the riverbed, or to the nearest floodplain. They needed mattresses, to rest. Or at least we thought they needed mattresses. What else would they lie on, those we sent away? Never mind.
I once saw a wall
It said “Stick no Bills”
I had to motion its fall
As an end to all ills.
