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Parag Raje

Children Stories Comedy


4.5  

Parag Raje

Children Stories Comedy


The Drunkard's Wife (Aka The Village Shrew) And The Goddess (Part 4)

The Drunkard's Wife (Aka The Village Shrew) And The Goddess (Part 4)

7 mins 43 7 mins 43

Stories by Grumpy Grandpa Pandemonium 

Aka 

Parag Raje


This story is dedicated to 

My spiritual Guru 

Shri Mataji Nirmaladevi and all the women in the world in recognition of the tremendous unimaginable struggles they have to go through


Title of the story : 


The Drunkards wife ( aka The village shrew ) and the Goddess .... 


---*---

Better lower your hand or else you will have to reckon with me! 


(Part 4 of total 4)


It's the chronic Drukards wife! The village shrew! They all exclaimed in shocked unison. 

Facing the crowd, she spoke calmly and firmly .. 

Yes, it is me. The chronic drunkard's wife aka the village shrew! 

I have a special perfect technique that will calm down the furious Goddess. But I can do it only behind closed doors alone with the Goddess. And here are my demands that should be met after I have soothed the Goddess. 


Her simple and brief charter of demands in reciprocation to avert the befallen calamity was as under ... 


A Life long pension of a certain amount


A Permanant invitation and a reserved seat of honour at all prestigious village events. 


A Certificate of citation from the village panchayat vouching her exemplary moral character and being an authentic living saint and conferring on her the title of Her Holiness Saint of the Highest Order Saviour of the Universe. 


A lifelong free unlimited buffet voucher for breakfast lunch and dinner at the best 7 star hotel in the village. 


An annual event honouring her in gratitude offering her the traditional silk Paithani sari, a complete gold jewellery set of 20 tolas and the Chappan bhog thaali ( a plate full of 56 different delicacies ) 


A fully furnished life long 

residential accomodation exclusively for her with a small attached servants quarter (to avoid inconvenience in case of any future lock downs) within the temple premises. 


A certain share percentage of the daily offerings to the Goddess to be given to her and her future generations. 


Free life long mobile and phone bills with international dialling facility. 


Free life long travel pass in a vehicle of her choice on land air or water


An all season land vehicle at her service with a young driver selected by her (his salary petrol for the vehicle and its repair maintenance and replacement to be borne by the village) 


To grant her sole rights in selling amulets trinkets talismans and other such paraphernalia to the public which shall promise them relief from disasters calamities and illnesses. 


To authorise her to certify and grant students with instantaneous educational qualifications of her choice. 


To erect statues and name public utility places, railway stations, airports in her honour. 


(Yes. In compiling the above list the author was inspired by and took many hints from the list of perquisites granted to our elected leaders.) 


And last but not the least 


To drive away her drunkard husband and exile him from the village forever.

With no other option left, the village at once agreed to fulfill all her demands provided she managed to visibly placate the Goddess. 


Having obtained the go ahead, the drunkards wife entered the sanctum sanctorum. Locking its door securely from within, she tucked the pallu ( a shoulder drape of the sari ) of her worn out and torn at various places sari. Placing a hand on her waist and wagging her other hand with its index finger raised in rebuke, close to the Goddeses face, she began her magic spell. 

In a firm stern voice she said 


When my parents got me married off to that chronic drunkard at a tender age to get rid of me as I was a burden you did not interfere.


Without even once caring about me the chronic drunkard would beat me up on flimsy reasons and snatch my hard earned money for his drinks leaving me hungry and in pain. Never once did you mind it. 


All these years the entire village used me as cheap labour or as a slave and I could not protest but yield to their system as I was a helpless solitary woman struggling to survive. Never ever did you object to it. 


On a stormy night on his whim the chronic drunkard kicked me out of the house hungry and penniless and nowhere to go but the cemetry. No one nor did You lift a little finger. 


But now, 

You claim to be the patron protector guardian Goddess of this village and 

Just because I took a little oil from your lamp to soften the dry bhakri for else it would have got caught in my dry throat choking me to death you caused all this commotion by your exaggerated reaction lifting your entire hand!

(this dear reader is no joke. A similar true life accident did take place outside my building once when a poor hungry gypsy woman choked to death due to a piece of dry bread or roti which got stuck in her throat. It's no laughing matter) 


Now listen carefully to my every word you Drama Queen of last row benchers and flop TV serial actors! If you don't return your hand and face to original normalcy you will have to reckon with my real full-fledged ire. If ever you behave like those over pampered tantrum throwing spoiled Indian sons or indulge in activities as if you are a lady Chief Minister in India, I will teach you a lesson you won't forget! People have not conferred on me the title of the Village shrew for nothing! I have earned it by my sheer merit! 


Barya bolaane aadhi tujha Haat khaali kar ! Naahitar majhya shi gaath aahe lakshaat thev !

Daarudyachi baayko , gaav bhavani mhantaat malaa te ugich naahi ! 


On hearing these soothing words sung in her praise, overflowing with devotion, so pleased was the Goddess that she at once retracted her hand to its original position and holding her tongue in check in cheek, with a most benevolent and graceful smile on her face resumed her statuesque position! 


The drunkard's wife uttering a silent sigh of relief, opened the door of the sanctum sanctorum and stepped out with a triumphant smile on her face. 


As the village chief and elders rubbed their eyes again and again in disbelief of the impossible miracle the drunkard's wife had achieved, the ever enthusiastic village romeos raised lusty cheers of victory and began tossing her high up in the air very much alike the actions of a rowdy tavern crowd with their item dance girl! 


Oh, what a mirthful and joyful grand scene it was! 


A victory procession with the drunkards wife at its helm, seated on a decorated throne, profusely garlanded, waving out triumphantly to the onlookers with the presstitute media relaying its live coverage on all major channels, meandered thru the village lanes. Accompanied by an orchestra of musical dhol zaanj tasha tutaari. Dhol is a big drum hit on both sides with a booming noise, Zaanj are jumbo size cymbals, taasha is a smaller flattish drum struck on the top rapidly with 2 thin sticks and tutaari is a huge trumpet or bugle. These are traditional Maharashtrian musical instruments to welcome VIPs or deities. The crowd lustily cheered the drunkards wife . " Victory to Her Holiness Village Saviour and Saint of the Highest order Tingalmata! (Param pujya Graam sankat nivaarini Sant Shiromani Tingal mate cha vijay aso! 

(Yes you guessed right. The drunkard's wife's cute personal name was Tingal) 


After a hectic day of tremendous upheavals and excitement everyone returned to their respective homes tired but supremely happy that a major catastrophe had been averted by a saint living amidst them. 

Needless to say, the simple honest villagers having read of or heard the story of the Piped piper of Hammelin on their mobiles, knew the dire consequences if they went back on their promises made to the drunkard's wife. 

They faithfully fulfilled every clause of her Charter of demands.

How this darling Saviour Saint later entered politics and became a Member of their Legislative Assembly is another interesting story reserved for a rainy day. 


But the main story doesn't end here. 

The chronic drunkard who was exiled by the villagers in keeping with their word to Her Holiness Saint Tingalmata received a shock of his life the next day when he was lying in an inebriated condition under a tree outside the village boundary. A courier parcel was delivered to him through online booking containing a variety of alcoholic drinks. Accompanying it was a note from his erstwhile wife 

"Thanks for throwing me out of your house on that fateful night. It was very much like a sudden triple talaq given to my other less fortunate sisters. May you drink yourself to death with this poison! " 


And so our irreverent story ends here. 

To quote the English bard William Shakespeare, "Alls well that ends well"


---*---

End of concluding Part 4 of Total 4 ....

---'*---


All copyrights of this story/article/essay/poem are retained by the author Mr. Parag Raje.


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