The Much Awaited Sequel to The Market Place Saga Part 1

... and therefore named as 'the Market Place Saga' part 2.

If, with the complete nonsense of my previous post, I have succeeded in lighting the fire of curiosity in your mind, then let me , very frankly tell you, that 'the thing' wasn't as much of a thing, to actually have invoked curiosity, of that great a magnitude. I understand that readers cannot tolerate anti-climaxes, like this one, but what to do... this is life. However, if my attempts have indeed borne fruit, and you are curious, then I believe, I can start upon the remaining phase of the story, with new found gutso, and determination.

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the thing that happened, was the sort of thing which tells you that its going to happen, by making the hairs at the back of your neck, stand on end, before it actually happens. Honestly, I did seem to hear that voice of conscience, sounding from my gut, that something was about to happen to the grumpy old woman (whom you might just recall from my previous post). But oh! If only my gut would have been a bit more informative, I would perhaps have gauged the near future, but some things in life don't happen the way you want it to happen...so I had to be content with it.

Now this GW (grumpy woman) had just managed to postion her centre of gravity between her feet, and was looking slightly happier owing to this achievement, when the protagonist of my tale, made an entrance. And that too on a bicycle.

And than I realized, the profoundness of what they call 'a gut feeling'.

The protagonist made an entrance all right, but at the cost of the other character. I dion't mean to say that she did an exeunt, but rather fell down. The moral of the story: Mr. Protagonist had barged right into her.


... and the market place scene changed. The whole load of tomatoes she was caarying, broke free, and spread all around her, till it seemed as if the Red Sea had flowed into this city. Passers-by crushed them under their feet, scooters ran over them, auto rickshaws squashed them, disfiguring their geometry to a great extent, but that did not deter the tomatoes, no sir. They had broken free, and intended it stay free, outside all baskets, out of all polythene bags. So they did one thing, that round bodies are very good at. They rolled, they rolled, and they rolled, till it seemed that V = Rw was certainly, not a myth. Till it seemed that the round bodies were meant to take over the world, owing to their sheer rolling power. And till it seemed that, someone at Pizza Hut, had ben a bit too generous with the tomato sauce, and had mistaken this market place for a big pizza.

The GW? guess what happened to her? She did one thing that middle aged women are very good at. She screamed, she screamed, and she screamed. The gravity of the situation, had taken its time to enter her brain, but when it did, she looked helplessly around for help, and finding none, had to be content with her screaming. After a few minutes of star-rated wailing, when she realized, that Mr. P was the cause of her fate, she looked desperately around for the culprit. But clever Mr. P. He was gone!!! If there is one person to whom this story is dedicated, it is indeed him, for it is he who gave me this story to write about. Meanwhile, dejected, and looking murderously vindictive, the GW tried her best to collect as many red stuff she found lying on the road, but were attempts were futile: the good round ones, had made a getaway. The ones who hadn't succeded, were left either crushed, or wasted on the road.


With this I end this great saga. I am not sure whether you have enjoyed it. But if you have, do let me know. If you haven't, than forgive me for wasting your time. To cap it all, a note of caution: be on the lookout for rolling tomatoes in and around Lansdowne Avenue. If you do spot one, well you might just know, whom it belongs to!!!