I have an Aquaman in my life but he is nothing like Jason Momoa. So, if you are thinking tall, hot bod and a heart-stopping grin, I’d have to disappoint you.
My Aquaman is rake-thin and goes by the name of Roopesssss with an extra hiss at the end. Like Arthur Curry, he is a man of few words. “Madamji, Roopesssss this side” is enough to make me swoon. His superhero costume is not shiny green and gold. It’s a rather tame pale blue shirt paired with navy blue trousers. And instead of the trident, he carries a black backpack that holds all manner of magical bits and bobs and rides a black Scooty. A seahorse couldn’t deal with Gurugram’s potholes and given the current political situation, a trident-carrying man might get frowned on.
Hold on a minute, I can see you frowning. I know what you are thinking.
You want to know what his superpower is, don’t you?
Well I’ll give you a hint. It has something to do with water! What else would it be? Duh.
There is a blue-and-white box suspended from the wall of my kitchen. That box contains the lifeline of my household. Every morning, the box spills out sparkling clean water, free of germs and sludge accompanied by the opening bars of Für Elise. We collect that water into bottles neatly lined up on the counter and drink it. It helps us stay healthy. Thanks to the magical box, we are not plagued by the runs. In fact most days we feel so fine, we can go for a run ourselves (Whether we do or not in reality is another matter altogether).
There is a blue-and-white box suspended from the wall of my kitchen. That box contains the lifeline of my household. Every morning, the box spills out sparkling clean water, free of germs and sludge accompanied by the opening bars of Für Elise. We collect that water into bottles neatly lined up on the counter and drink it. It helps us stay healthy. Thanks to the magical box, we are not plagued by the runs. In fact most days we feel so fine, we can go for a run ourselves (Whether we do or not in reality is another matter altogether).
One night all the springs of the great deep burst forth, and the floodgates of the heavens were opened. I thought the Lord had finally sent the floods to wipe from the face of the earth the human race he had created. I cursed my luck (and my laziness) in dilly dallying with the ark. But then I realised that it wasn’t the Lord’s wrath but the pipes in my kitchen that had burst. Day and night, I pleaded with the plumber to repair the pipes so that we could put away our scuba diving gear. But the poor fellow would stare at me helplessly like a lost Nemo. Glub. Glub. Glub. That was all he could say. Till Aquaman came to the rescue and wielded his magic spanner. “The machine has malfunctioned Madamji,” he said.
The box’s wrath turned out to be worse than the Lord’s.
The box’s wrath turned out to be worse than the Lord’s.
Since then, twice a year, Aquaman emerges from where it is that he emerges from and makes sure the box is working properly and his minions are not plagued by floods or tsunamis. He vanquishes germs, kicks out the dirt and once more, there is peace in the Kingdom of Pure Water.
Then, he makes me sign on a pink slip that says service has been completed satisfactorily and jets off into the sunset amidst clouds of black smoke. I must remind him to get a PUC certificate next time he visits or his toxic seahorse .. erm ... scooty will be confiscated. The Gurugram traffic police are very strict. No allowances for superheros.
