It is a languid sunny afternoon in the streets of Morocco. Enjoying his anonymity, John Abraham, sunglasses perched on his head, lazily strolls along, taking in the sights and sounds of a fruit market.
The market is like a fantasy, filled with fresh, colourful fruits of every imaginable type being sold by dark-haired kohl-eyed beauties.
John looks in no hurry to be anywhere else.
He stops at the nearest apple cart. He gestures to the beautiful woman to pack him a few.
She gives him the polite, professional smile and starts to pick out the fruits.
As he waits, he lowers his sunglasses onto his face.
Suddenly the woman drops the apples, vaults over her cart towards him, dramatically drapes herself around him and coos, “Bachao!”
Before a startled John can react, another beauty comes running down the street, leaps over the fallen apples, hides behind his back and whimpers “Bachao!”
He turns around in confusion. A third beautiful woman, cycling by, shouts “Bachao!”
Soon, heavily accented cries of “Bachao” from beautiful damsels in distress around him fill the air:
A woman hiding behind a lamp post; s woman walking her dog; a woman on a terrace overlooking the market; women from the other fruit stalls; vendors; customers; passers by!
John is in a daze. Confused onlookers look at him strangely. He shrugs at them. He has no idea why these women need saving and what he can do to help.
He takes his sunglasses off and looks around.
Suddenly the woman who started it all, the apple vendor, holds her wrist to her forehead (Nargis style) and whines “Naheeeeeen!
She goes back to her apple cart. The cries stop. The women disperse. Life is back to normal.
A knowing smile crosses his face as the gag dawns on him. He looks at the camera, shakes his head and mutters, “Heroines!”
Courtesy - Mid Day
indiafm
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment