THIS may never happen but a part of my imagination hopes that one day I will be hospitalised for this, so here goes: “There’s something wrong!” I shout as I pick up my newspapers from the gate, as I do every morning. “What’s wrong?” asks the wife. “I have been cheated, swindled, a fraud has taken place!” “What fraud?” asks the wife, “you don’t have money, so nobody could have robbed you, your car is eight years old, so nobody would want to take it away!” “I have been cheated by the newspaper boy, where is he?” “He just left on his cycle,” says a bewil-dered wife.
“Call the watchman, tell the boy to come back immediately. I will not tolerate cheating!” The wife calls the watch-man, who hurriedly calls the newspaper delivery boy as he is just beginning to start off on his cycle and complete his rounds. He comes to my house looking scared, “Sahib,” he says, “if I have done anything wrong, please forgive me!”
“You have cheated me!” I tell him. “No sahib, I have not. Last month you did not pay the bill, but I have added no interest, even when you did not pay last November, I did not add interest!” “You have cheated me, and I don’t like being cheated. “What has he done?” asks the wife, “I had no idea you had not paid him last year, what did you do with the money? Poor little fellow, he climbs these stairs daily and you don’t pay his bills?”
“Listen,” I tell her wearily, “That is not the point, this boy has cheated me today. He didn’t give me my correct news-paper!” “There it is husband, right there in your hand!” “Yes sir, that is today’s newspaper!” says the newspaper boy brightening up. “This is not the newspaper!” “It is!” shouts the wife. “It is!” whispers the boy. “Open it and see,” I tell them triumphantly as both of them scramble and open the newspaper, “Do you understand what I am saying? Can’t you see, I have been cheated? Look at the news. Not a single rape, no robbery, no lynching, no journalist murdered, no war in Israel, none in the Ukraine! You expect me to believe it is today’s paper? I have been swindled, do you see what I am saying?” The ambulance man was rough as he pushed me onto the stretcher, “Where are you taking me?” I asked. “To the psy-chiatrist ward,” he said. “What am I suffering from?” I asked the doctor. “Breaking news hangover!” he sighed, “With the world becoming a peaceful place, people are growing hysterical with withdrawal symptoms!” Like I said at the beginning, how wonderful it would be to get hospitalised for such..!
—Email: bobsbanter@gmail.com
