This is a small tale about my friend Mr. Deepa. He worked as a Patwari in the Kharar tehsil of Punjab.
This is how my friend Mr. Deepa was:
Amiable, good natured, humble, sympathetic, always ready to help anyone even strangers and this list is inexhaustible. However, all of us know that no creature on this earth can be perfect, as God has done this deed to keep a check on us mortals so that none of us becomes a living God.
There always exists a flaw, but we should not call it a flaw, as it would not be a good term to describe the minor blemish in Mr. Deepa’s life.
Mr. Deepa though possessed all of the above qualities, living like a Demi God, but for this one flaw, Oh! God help me this word is not leaving my senses. I think we should now stick with this word and relish in detail the flaw of Mr. Deepa. This flaw of Mr. Deepa made him a little eccentric fellow. Though he always tried to maintain a humane approach towards every living creature coming into his acquaintance. The creature could be a human being, a dog, a pig and even a snake. Everyone’s life was enriched by coming into contact with this fellow.
All relished his long moral sermons though most of them were sceptical about him following any of his own sermons, as the post of patwari carries with itself the load of bribery at every step. Still being a patwari and making people sceptical about your moral existence is a feat achieved in itself.
Every evening when the sun starts hiding from us changing its course to liven up the sensibilities on some other part of the world, then Mr. Deepa’s whole body started a kind of rebellion against him. His brain would become numb, his limbs stiff and all of this was evident from his countenance that changed itself from being merry to melancholic.
“I think it's time for my medicine.”
This phrase had become a laughing stock with all of his friends. They knew where Mr. Deepa would now head to. Even any new seekers of divine help from Mr. Deepa were cautioned not to approach him after five. And if a brave soul dared to venture into Mr. Deepa’s private world then Mr. Deepa welcomed him with his choicest of abuses and still if the brave soul tried to resist that brave soul came out in tattered clothes from the…
From the… what? I think by now you might have guessed the predicament of Mr. Deepa that became evident with the falling sun.
Yes, I think most of you are right. Mr. Deepa is a drunkard. A type of drunkard who fights daily with his phenomena. But soon his shrewd mind devises an excuse to hurl his body towards the nearest Bar or sometimes Tavern when the finances are low. And if a new divine seeker arrives then definitely the party was at the Bar.
Only this flaw of Mr. Deepa one day proved fatal for him. As usual, Mr. Deepa was enjoying his medicine in a cheap Tavern. The crowd at the Tavern generally comprises of low classes when compared to the crowd of the Bar. So when one day the number of enemies of Mr. Deepa rose to a considerable level, they all devised a scheme. After intoxicating Mr. Deepa to a great level his body was thrust into Ghaggar River from the bridge. The poor soul Mr. Deepa could neither react nor resist due to his senses being mingled with his medicine. After two days, his six foot long body was found floating from the Ropar under bridge. And in this way, his minor flaw became the fatal flaw for Mr. Deepa.
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