Alien in the attic.

There is a hush of silence.Every one is at their best behaviour.Not a single argument or a scream
of rage to be heard.Even the ruffians who abound in plenty and swagger and strut around have become tamed beasts.

What a control!

How discomfiting,disconcerting,irritating and intimidating it is to have a in house psycho doc[hannibal?]/cop[rush hour detective,black?]/ con man ,corporate spy?/neta's chamcha/media's hacker[murdoch's hireling?]/either one or all rolled into one to be planted on the attic .However i am sure that the nerves of the mole has become frayed by all this nonstop preying on others psyche.He needs a break before he becomes more berserk and runs around amok wreaking more damage on already frayed nerves of all those around who are secretly and fervently praying for his quick disappearance from their once normal and idylic life' once and for all for good..

And all those around also need one to let their hair down and just be themselves.

I would know that normalcy has returned when i hear the irritating sound [now i am simply longing to hear it] of women quarreling at the hand pump and the men shake their fists at each other at the drop of a hat.

Further ,when i hear the noisy sounds of the streams of guests visiting my next door neighbour and hear the string of curses from the woman down below letting out her frustrations and the loud voice of another neighbour lamenting at the injustices that according to her every one is bent on heaping on her and when i hear the loud chanting of slokas of another neighbour in preparation of the work ahead in the mornings and the regular petty and loud fights of his next door tenant with all and sundry 'from newpaperman down to the watchman,and when i hear the uninhibited yells of boys playing cricket on the roof top or in the corridors ,whenever they can snatch these places for themselves unmindful of the volley of abuses showered on them by grouchy adults.

Finally when i hear my own voice struggling to be heard above that of my spouse in the frequent quarrels [ how i miss them ] and chafe' at the loud music blaring from nearby temple [it has fallen ominiously silent] and hear in awe at the extraordinary energy of another neighbour's non stop high pitched arguments with her family for hours together., i would know that things are back to normal ,as they should be.

Every one it seems are forcibly in their Sunday best. Just how long can this control last or be compelled to hold one's breath?

Photo:An chameleon on the fence.