A Vuvuzela for Mr Roy

He is the most popular creature in Mumbai’s media world. He’s like the superhero of journalism roaming incognito in the streets of India’s financial capital. He’s got that extra long nose for news. He pokes into everyone’s affair. When everything seems alright he spots an inconspicuous anomaly and probes deeper.

When Mumbai sleeps he stays awake and files the biggest breaking stories that shake the Sensex the next morning.

Corporates respect him, peers envy him and women love him. He is for you the inimitable MITH*****. Sorry for the unexpected five stars after MITH. It’s his towering personality that has forced me settle for the stars. Let’s call him Mr Roy (name intentionally changed to protect identity).

Mr Roy, besides news sniffing has two interests in life – football and travelling from Vashi to Andheri in Mumbai’s suburban trains on Sundays -- which invariably fits into his chock-a-bloc schedule.

For football lover Roy, FIFA world cup is like the best time in his life and he makes it a point to watch every match live. Roy comes home early in the evening and jogs around in his three-by-three feet balcony overlooking a mosquito breeding pond and a proposed mango orchard, where the mango trees are yet to be planted.

Roy claims the run between kitchen and balcony melts his extra kilos.

Well, enough of jogging. Now Mr Roy switches on his television to watch the match between Uruguay and France.

All excited, tea sipping Mr Roy jumps, laughs and bites his nail in excitement whenever the ball reached near the goal post on either side. Roy says he doesn’t support any team and every team which plays world cup football is worth supporting.

The excitement increases further in the match but Roy suddenly looks silent. Vuuun…vuuunn..vuuun..vuun..vun..vun the sound continues. Roy know there is something missing here.

No one of his neighbors, mostly nuclear scientists, would be playing something so stupid that too during a football match. But the sound continued vuun …vuun..un..un…He went to the balcony and found no movement outside. Children in the newly built shanties at the proposed mango orchard were playing cricket, while their parents were playing cards.

He then thought may be the mosquitoes in the adjacent pond which is being filled for building a new luxury tower, are to be blamed but his intelligence told mosquitoes do not have such a strong voice and to create such audible sound you need all the mosquitoes in Mumbai jamming in a studio.

The picture outside was serene. But the voice grew louder and the pattern more frequent. In his detective style he walked silently and put his large ears near the television. Suddenly there was loud vuuu which almost damaged his ear drum. Now he knows it. The poor five year old television has lost it. It’s sick now and is expressing with cough and coarse voice during the football match.

Roy suffered the match and got up early in the morning. Before even brushing his teeth, he called Atif Aslam, the namesake of the Pakistani pop singer and the plumber-cum-electrician-cum watchman and much more to the housing society. At one call Aslam was at his tenth floor apartment.

He opened the television and claimed there was some problem with internal speakers. Roy shelled five hundred rupees and went with his daily schedule. Today is an important match. Argentine vs Nigeria. Roy though claims all teams are equal, has actually secretly been endorsing the Latin American country by making his permanent Gmail status as Waka waka tis time for Argentina and has already been beaten by two English and Brazilian fans in his office for such brazen support.

Anyways now on day two Roy switches the TV set no noise. Match starts noise starts. He loses his patience and calls Aslam immediately, who cuts his call five times. Roy is furious. Bugger is this time to cut calls the real match is on and this TV is shouting. Disappointed he mutes the TV and watches. Aslam in the meantime messages back in Hindi saying, “boss samjha karo ek din to chhuti milti hai Bandstand pe baitha hun baad mein baat karte hain.”

Roy fumes in anger and decides to buy a new television the other day. Unable to sleep he watches Ram Gopal Varma directed James movie, his all time favourite, on his Acer laptop. Whenever Roy fails in life he draws inspiration from the hero in James who beats all odds to achieve his target. Others however don’t understand the inspiration part; anyways most have not seen the movie.

While watching James for the third time nonstop, the newspaper boy throws the Times of India newspaper into his balcony. He runs to get the paper while thinking about the hawker. “This is the problem with this country… everyone can throw it like a cricketer but no one can bend it like Beckham.” “How can people breathe so easily without playing football in this country?

Then in his mind he blamed it on Neheruvian socialism which destroyed teamwork and promoted a individualistic game like Cricket. Suddenly he stops and what he reads. "People want to ban irritating noise at world cup soccer." He read the noisy instrument is called Vuvuzela. He sighs and laughs at him and falls asleep while James was still playing on his laptop.

(Mr Roy thought of keeping this secret to himself till he had two small pegs of whiskey. This story is fictional and doesn’t resemble to any character except Mr Roy in real life.)