Lobo Lobo and the two bananas

"Theo, can I offer you a banana, a banana milkshake or a banana split? I'm sure Zomato will deliver."

Lobo Lobo came to my home looking like he'd been through a Mumbai steeplechase race.

"Lobo Lobo, please share your woes, you look like um..." Words failed me.

"Wot to say Dikuna men, I have many, many problems, men."

"Like? Tell me, maybe I can help?"

"Where to start, chhe. See fust tings fust. I went to my local blinking fruit seller, Bose chacha. I've been buying fruits from dis blighter for ten years men. Every day he sells me two bananas. Today you know how much he charged me?"

"Twenty bucks approx, I assume."

"Twenty times dat, chhe: '442, men, for two kelas. I said to him, 'Dis is daylight robbery. Keep your damn bananas.' And I phatkaod from dere. But, as I was walking away, Dame Bad Luck smiled on me, and I slipped on—can you believe?—a banana peel and fell on de bleddy potholed road. I'm going to write a stern letter to all de papers complaining against dis Bose fruit seller for overcharging me, men."

"Theo, can I offer you a banana, a banana milkshake or a banana split? I'm sure Zomato will deliver."

"No men, tanks. Den I have furder problems, Mr Rahul. You've been following all dese captain-vice-captain tensions between dat Rohit fellow and de Virat chappie. All dis gupshup about dere wives causing a rift. Apparently, Anushka did sumtin on dat twitter-shitter. She unfollowed Rohit, cozzing all dese misunderstandings. I have a similar problem, men."

"You? How?" I enquired, a tad nonplussed.

"You remember I told you dat I am carrom champ of de whole area? We have a Virar team called VLCC: Virar Local Carrom Chiefs, of which I am de captain. My vice-captain is a bloke named Lester Braganza. His wife, Grizabella, real khadoos lady. Yap-yap-yap, how much she gossips, oh my. She tinks she is a better cook dan my Myrtle. So de trouble began in church last Sunday. She whispered to her friend Mabel, who is my tird cuzzin from my mudder's side, dat my Myrtle's chorizo rice is not gud, men. Wot guts, men. Total jealousy, I say. Arre, my wife is MasterChef of de area. She runs a big tiffin service of Goan food. Den someone passed a rumour dat my Myrtle said dat Grizabella's fish curry rice tastes like dog food. She never said anyting of de sort, but you know how rumours are. De blinking trouble has begun. World War Tree, I say. And it has affected me and Lester. Peepuls are saying dat Lester wants to be captain. He is, of course, denying it. Solid tenshun, men."

"What's the tension, Lobo Lobo?"

"Arre, Myrtle men, she's eating my head. She tinks I am de reason her tiffin sales have dropped, men. She is treatening she'll divorce me with three simple words."
"And what are those three words, Theo?" I asked ominously.

"Lobo get out," Lobo Lobo concluded.

Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahuldacunha62@gmail.com

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