Pardon the fox

During my recent visit to one time capital of India and habitat of intellectuals, realized nothing much changed during last 4 years. I was wondering, how a city, which apparently have chosen the path to modernization (and industrialization), can still hang on to the roots (quiet appreciable). People are as warm as ever and they also have a nice a way to set off a conversation with unknown people, by airing any statement on politics. Albeit, neither I was in politics nor it is a subject of interest, still I have played the role of obedient receptor, every time out of compulsion. Why? Simply because I could not find any other place to make myself uncomfortable, either in bus, train, tram or “Oli-golitey cabin” (cabin is a place where not only ordinary, even extra-ordinary people spend productive time with a cup of tea and snacks. “Oli-golitey” is just a name of the cabin, which in broader sense mean, corner of the street.)
The other day, during one such commute by bus, I was caught in crossfire. As I do not know the art of becoming deaf I had to oblige the volleys of argument. To show my lack of interest I started gazing here and there. I noticed another humble soul was equally irritated. She was staring down at me through the blood red hibiscus garland. The color of carved wooden frame where she was accommodated had gone from bright brown to dull brown due to the residual of burnt carbon.
The vermillion sandalwood mark on her forehead was getting itchy, I wish she had handy wet tissue to clean the stuff and wipers to get rid of the jerking garland disturbing her vision. Adding to the trouble, the burning incense stick has reddened her eyes and almost choked her. If this was not enough, the glowing decorative light at her feet has increased the heat on a hot humid sultry day, the tongue which she has been sticking out through the day have dried and dehydrated her.
Even a SOS for bail out will fall in deaf ears, thanks to the rusty black loud speaker, nailed beside her, double her size, played the Hindi number “chal chaiyan”. Helpless, I saw her in distress. I guess, the only way she can come out of agony is by showing her anger.
The fox at her mercy looked worried after studying wrinkles on her forehead. Why worried? Do not forget (mythology), fox will be forced to drink all the blood that oozes out, as a result of destruction by “Goddess Kali”. The poor fox for his own sake, seemed to pray with folded hands, to forgive the devil and donate him respite.
Mother (Goddess) pardon me too and do not stare at me furiously, I believed you will help me out from the uninterested discussion. I, a tiny mortal creature, stepping out of the bus to my destiny, hardly have any prowess to help you. Bless me!