Cherche la femme' chèvre

This is the new resolution we've passed. Henceforth, on every new post, we'll include a strip from Peanuts. Something that suits the mood. Please bear with us.


I don't even know why I'm writing about this. The incident is in no way significant. Not funny, neither outright tragic, nor of great shock value to our inured minds. Only reason I can think of, (besides that I've got way too much time on my hands) is that it says something about the thought process of yours truly. Something I'll be reminded of, when I come back to this page years later, and mutter, "So, I've been like this only".

I was driving down to the market in our small town a few evenings ago. On the way, there was a a confused-looking mob on the road at a busy intersection. Somebody asked us to turn around and take a detour. The crowd was swelling, somebody saying something about an accidental death. It didn't look like any automobile was involved. We didn't wait. Later at the market , I was told somebody got electrocuted at a faulty electric pole. Power supply to that particular area was cut off for the night. I didn't think about it much at that time.

Next morning at work, while having chai, a colleague was narrating the incident in great detail. The summary is like this. You see, there's a line of butcher shops near that intersection. Late afternoon, a goat escaped from a butcher's place and went scurrying into a nullah. It was a busy day at business, so the butcher called a ragpicker loitering nearby and asked him to go bring the goat back. On the bank of the nullah there was a transmission tower of some mobile network. There must be a live cable leaking somewhere, 'cause when this grown-up male ragpicker went near the nullah, he did not come back. Word started spreading. The scared butcher went to the local police chowki and reported the incident.

The station-in-charge, seeing no merit to the case, sent over an old hawaldar with a known drinking problem. His brief was to cut power, recover dead body, inform next of kin for identification and send the body over for autopsy. While carrying out the third part of the agenda the policeman got a bit jittery. He was getting late for his evening appointment with the bottle. At the door of the dead man's shanty he called out for his wife and unceremoniously gave her the bad news. She was asked to come and identify the body. But the woman started to wail or something, causing delay, and the hawaldar lost all patience. He roughly dragged her by the hand. This is when the mob had risen. The onlookers suddenly got really pissed and they grabbed the old sod and started lynching him. Things went out of control. A full contingent had to be called in and the area cordoned off.

Later a DSP came and apologized to the local people. The hawaldar was suspended. The traders of the area called a Bandh the next day. The usual.

Only, after listening this far, I had to interject, "So what happened to the goat?" Tell me, was that an unreasonable question? Everybody seemed to find it very amusing.

P.S I suppose everybody is familiar with the original reference.

P.S.2 And do try calling in sick on a thursday once in a while and drinking vodka through the day. Busts a lot of stress, I tell you.