It is the morning after the annual dinner of the Shakespeare Mandli and Darabsha is nursing a gargantuan hangover. His wench… umm… his wife – Rattie bursts into the room, flinging open the curtains.
“Rattie, shut yon window that lets the smiling star of the morn invade mine chamber. ’Tis the morning after our annual banquet to commemorate 400 plus years of the great bard, the bard of Avon, the Swan of Avon. There was wine and spirits, and our spirits hath runneth high!”
Ratti interjected, “I can well imagine how high!” but her sarcasm was lost on our hero, Darabsha. He continued, “Mine host hath excelled himself. After few tots of excellent 21 year old uisge beatha i.e. whisky to the non-initiated, we supped ’pon bheja-na-cutlets, Sali-ma-murgi ,patra-ni-machchi, dhansak n’ kababs, custard, n’ ice-cream, and some port wine, laterly. Nothing much, except maybe a couple of post-prandial drinks. Even good King Henry VIII with all his wives could not have done better. Our comrade-in-arms, Pesi Kalio excelled himself, this Pesi Kalio is a goodly fellow. ’Pon his birth, his sire hath dubbed him ‘Peshotan Kalapesi’. He resembleth Othelo, the Prince of Moors outerly in colour of his skin, dark as night, thus the nomenclature Pesi Kalio, but has a heart of gold and provides wines, viands and nourriture fit for a princely table!”
Seeing the wife still trying to process that, Darabsha continued, “Now Rattie, be a goodly wench and do as thy lord and master doth command thee. Put out the lights, and then, I prithee, quench yon flaming minstrel that lights up yon East, with curtains thick and let me sleep. To sleep, to dream…”
But Ratie was made of sterner stuff. “You want to sleep after waking up half the colony at 5:00 am singing ‘Heigh ho, heigh ho the holly, This life is most jolly………’!! And when the dudhwalla greeted you with ‘Namaste, paiye-laga sethji, aaj aap der-se aaiye?’, you told him, ‘No, my dear dudhwalla, tum aaj jaldi aaya hai!!’ Then to top that, in the meanwhile, the taxi driver insisted upon his fare, gently at first, quite loudly the seventh time, and you went ballistc at him saying, “Kaika paisa, woh saala ne diya, …er brother-in-law-ne tumko fare diya-ne?”
Darabsha murmured, “I remember him taking out my wallet that was half out of my pocket and telling me to take care of it,….. but methinks, without returning it. That bloody pirate, the conman!! Rattie, thy kinsman hoodwinked me again. Fie on thee, thou lily liver’d boy – er.. man! I am sick when I look on thee. Heigh–ho! Sing, heigh–ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, and, knowing thy Jamsu, a mere folly! Sing Heigh Ho……..”
By this time, half of the colony was awake, some going, “Sssshhhhhhh,” and the others yelling, “Darab gher-jai ne sui-ja!” Ookaji the Orthodox who disliked Darabsha for marrying his old flame, Rattie, screamed, “Throw this angrej Shakespeare out of the colony. It’s for Jarthostis, only Jarthostis!” Darabsha, now at his Shakespearean best, yelled back, “I’d beat thee, but I would infect my hands, thou scurvy toad! Now be gone!”
Ookaji hurled a Parthian shot, “Rattie, aai tera Darab ne psychiatrist ne dekhaar! He is suffering from Multiple Personality Disorder!” What Darabsha screamed back cannot be printed in a family newspaper.
In the bedroom, aapra sleepy Darabsha soliloquized, “O for the blissful sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care, balm of hurt minds, the chief nourisher in life’s feast – Sleep!”
“Lavaro bund karo! Ghare ayach tyar thi bheju khai giyach. Let me tell you what I think of your Shakespeare Mandli. The blooming ^&#$$% mandli should be banned. Sui jao, right now!”
Sui jao, sui jao! O to be or not to be asleep ’tis the question! Whether ’tis nobler in mind to suffer the slings and arrows of the harsh words from thy wench, or to end all the head-aches and the natural shocks that the morning-after banquet is heir to by having a stiff morn-after pick-me-up that the noble Parsis of the lineage of Cyrus and Darius, now in the land of Indies calleth ‘Utaro.’ ‘An Utaro, Utaro, my kingdom for an Utaro. I stand for an Utaro. And Utaro, shall I have it? What sayest thou, O mine Juliet?”
“Hu kaale kehvas,” Rattie threatened. “Just you wait till tomorrow”
“Aah, Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time,” responded Darabsha.
Now at her voluble best, quoth Rattie, “The quality of my mercy is going to be very strained for thee. Your life is going to be a hell, and I shall have my pound of flesh. Your life………..”
“Life, life!” Lost in his drunken stupor Darabsha continueth. “Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. Thou madam, Thou art like a tale, Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing!”
“And you are going to be nothing significant, you worm!. My name is mud in the colony and all because of you!,” retorted the woman scorned. But the threat was lost on our brave-heart. He snoreth zzzzzzzzzzzz.
Darabsha awoke late the next morning, rather very late. “I must have an ‘utaro.’ Rattie my dear, bring my bottle of scotch. I’ll have a Pick-me-up. An utaro.”
Rattie, cool as an ice-gola, informed Darabsha, “Darab dear, maro jeebharu Jamsu savarna avalo ne tamari wallet return kari gayo. He said your money is safe with him and he will give it back next time he comes, maybe after the New Year 2021 to greet you maybe on Jamshedi Navroz. And of course, I gave him that bottle of scotch for taking such good care of you and saving your wallet. Such a dear, my Jamsu! Always very helpful!”
Never ever underestimate a woman scorned.
“Helpful? Yea, he always helps himself!” Darabsha could be heard even at the Baug’s gate. “Jamsu, thou art a boil, a plague sore; like a toad, ugly and venomous; unfit for any place except Hell. Thou, thou lump of foul deformity……”
All’s not well, but that still ends well!!
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