The Traffic Police with a Cartoon Gun
Nikita Jain
At present, I am thinking about Ankit, about how he met me on the road and my bracelet got mingled with his stupid wrist watch…and then I was staring at him and he had this rat smile spitted on his face…then my friends…wait what friends? I don’t know with whom I would rather roam the streets…I would do that with random strangers…most probably…okay so I have got someone with me and he or maybe it should be she because then Ankit might feel disoriented…so this guy…whosoever he was asks me to just get rid of him…here I am wearing an off-white shirt with black shorts…I don’t know whether I would even wear that ever…even in my dreams…so then I tried and tried and tried but that stupid bracelet of mine was making out with his idiotic wrist watch…so I just pulled the hell out of my hand and my bracelet broke…it went to that wrist watch…goddamn…marry that wrist watch…okay…and here the fantasy is over…I am one hundred percent sure this is not romantic but this makes me feel blurry nonetheless…Ankit, I remember I met him in a bar…I was drunk…with some bracelet exceptions…I have usually met him in drunkenness…dancing in his home…how the fuck will I get there…in the bar I will fall over him…and if he doesn’t fall in love with me…I…I will just empty my mouthful of vodka on his face…
Engineering is over…yeah…my studies are over…and I am a 21 year old young stupid girl who thinks something about everything in a nothing sort of way…my parents are telling me to get a job…to get a career…to get a life…to get a breath at least…and I am stuck with this…my mind making hot fantasies of a crazy guy I remember from school and I thought was too low for my standards…well he might have tried on me…why…he did…he had to after all…but I rejected…I don’t give the damn fuck…he was dark…his eyes talked…I think I wanted to do sex with him and now also…I just want to make out with him once…and tell his slutty girlfriends that I got him…
Job…what’s with the jobs…why can’t I do nothing and be like a traffic police…I don’t mind the summer sun really…I will have a cartoon gun and I will throw rubber balls on everyone…if anyone tries to ignore the rules…I think it’s a good idea but my sister says that it won’t pay much…
Money…I think I have a lot of it…I won the lottery and I have money but I don’t know how and where to spend it so I just sprinkle coins from my balcony on to the roads…my subconscious says this is a dream because I wanted money for my shoes and Mom said that she hadn’t any…I hate shoes anyway…what’s with them…
I am toying with the idea of sending telepathic messages to Ankit now…I swear I hate this youtube thing…it makes me do nonsense things when I am so smart…I mean…seriously…he is so close to me…I almost smell him near me…what’s the need of calling him…he would think that I am drunk…I don’t like it when someone calls me a drunkard…and he does the same thing…so the conclusion is…mathematically I hate him…I should…I wanted to hear his voice…so I go to the library of my stored thoughts…fantasies come up…rambling…rambling…yeah…I met him in a mall…now it’s right…I met him in a mall on the second floor…he was with his two tails…I am with my friends and they are all celebrities who want to marry me…I meet him and he says hi…I don’t say anything because clearly I don’t even want to see him in the first place…I say hi but I want to yell ‘motherfucker’…but I say hi…that’s okay…
One day when I become something…something good so that I could break the temples and monuments but instead build orphanages, old age homes and shelters for poor people…and shelters for stray animals…then…only then I will call him…I will say…see I have become something…big in height…big in status…and I will utter…stay the fuck away from me...what the goddamn fuck…I am thinking about my family dying…I won’t ever know what to say at their funeral…I won’t even cry…I will just go to the bar and drink…and smoke and drink…and think if Mom and Dad could somehow know about it…
Run…I want to run away…I have fixed it all…I will do some freelancing…maybe writing…or something else…if nothing works I will go become a part time prostitute…and earn enough to get myself a passport…a flight ticket…and some things like toothpaste and something to wear…then I will run to the place with the cheapest flight ticket…it will be some closed cold place…I like cold…winters feel good on my skin…my skin twitches from here and there and I simply keep stretching it…sitting in a bathroom…mom shouts to come out but I can’t reply because I am biting my lips…I am biting them so hard that blood spills and licking it makes me feel nostalgic…I want to reply…mom shouting uncontrollably…what’s with her…I am in a goddamn bathroom…I won’t die there…
Ankit…I think I met him in some place where he had gone for college…he was with his friends…of course…I was alone…now that seems bearable…I got myself in trouble…police caught me…I told them that I am a traffic police…I will help them to control traffic jams…I would do it for free…but they won’t listen…the police look like theatre characters who apparently learned nothing about acting…then I will get mad at them…and I will call Ankit…because I know no one else there…then he bails me out…and gets in my car…I drive fast…very fast and I fly the car into the truck…we both die…I will ask god to put us at different places and throw his friends down…tying clouds to their feet…and their heads should bump the earth…and all his friends should go to the mental asylum…that’s what I want…what a goddamn wish…
Mental Asylum…I think I should go there…I went there…I used to sit there all day all night…doing nothing…simply sitting…and believe me it was wonderful…but one day I got to know that there are doctors for treatment so I ran away from there…just ran and ran…and ran afar…I shaved my head…tied my boobs…the pair makes me go idiotic anyway…and took the job of waiter at a bar…I used to hear cheap bad music there…serving drinks…I used to mix them with urine…and pray that the customer should die and the bar should get closed down giving me 100,000,000 dollars…that never happened…eventually the place became boring…one day a lawyer came and he got to know that I was a goddamn girl…he said he would screw me…but I should have screwed him up…I ran…his men caught me…and beat me up…then someone left me at the mental asylum…at last I was where I belonged…
Belong…I think I belong to a large villa with a vast green park outside and three children…one of them is blind…I ask him to learn piano…he rolls his eyes at me…and then I see Ankit is holding another kid…what a goddamn man…he must be…he makes me go crazy…
I meet Hollywood actors…and they say…I write brilliantly…I know that I do…they say they will pay me a fortune if I write for them…I say I don’t mind…I just want to be a traffic police with a cartoon gun…it will change colours…in sunlight and in moonlight…I will be monitoring the traffic…I absolutely hate traffic jams…no question about it…and when anyone will say anything about my weight I will tell them that I weigh 78 kilos…and my acne is not acne but switches on which galaxies operate…yeah…I will say that I run galaxies…which star will fall when…when the sun will go down and if the moon will come or not…and rains…I decide it all…first of all…I will tell Ankit about this…he will smile and rub his lips with his right index finger…I will ask him to drink…I will smoke…I will watch him getting drunk…and then I will drown him in a bathtub…I will drown with him…yeah…what a goddamn fantasy…
I will order the musicians to make good songs with my bad lyrics…I will throw money at their faces…I have made a movie in which a beggar earns more than an engineer… his daughter thinks that he is a piece of shit…he says that thinking makes anyone a piece of shit…so better not to think too much…I tell Ankit that I will kill him if he thinks too much…he says okay…I have made another movie where a boy gets mad at a video game and then enters it…and then comes out…he sees himself everywhere…he says I don’t know any other face except mine…I have a story where a husband teaches English to his wife and then he dies in a war…his name doesn’t come in the newspaper…his wife reads the English newspaper…and tears up the Hindi newspaper…and so many stories I have…I want to write…they just go round and round and round in my head…I drink and smoke weed…I have got to do that simultaneously and then I can write…I will go somewhere where there will be no phone…no network…I will manage traffic there with my cartoon gun…I will take a break and I will play with kids with those rubber balls…Ankit will catch or bring the ball every time I shoot…I will pay for him…yeah…that would be the good life…sometimes I will write letters to mom and make paper planes of them…I will fly them in the air and they will go far into the sea…I will think that mom reads them…okay…then I will go and be a traffic police while I ask Ankit to bring back that paper plane…I will fight with him…how dare he…he couldn’t find it…I will push him in the sea and will go myself behind him…
Nikita Jain writes stories in form of lyrics, novels, scripts, short stories and stories. She has written and published 3 of her books on Amazon. She wants to write for the screen full time.
