It was early morning. So early, even the birds were fast asleep.
A time when Raghu liked to get the job done and over with. It was his me time. That way, he was a shy person.
He liked to defecate alone in the fields in the darkness. Not for him, the community defecation festivals conducted every morning by his fellow villagers.
The anti open defecation mohim, which was a rage in the rest of the country, had not yet touched his village. Perhaps, due to his village falling in an opposition ruled state?
And so he was doing his job peacefully, sitting (‘h’ silent)below a tree, humming a tune. Suddenly he was lifted up in the air, still in same position, his legs wrapped tightly by something.
As he was being carried off with his pants down, he realised that it was an elephant from the neighbouring forest, which was swinging him wildly.
With his heart in his mouth, he saw death. He saw his long departed grandmother, his uncle and an assortment of departed fellow villagers, all having a good laugh at his expense.
As tears steamed down his eyes and with his bottom literally yellowed, he prayed… prayed hard.
And miraculously, perhaps overcome by the pungent odour of the load it was carrying, the running elephant finally dropped him like a load of potatoes and ran off into the neighbouring forest.
Today the man has become an ambassador of the swatchchata abhiyan of the village and his mascot is…who else, Appu Raja.