Disclaimer: This might seem like a load of drivel to people not acquainted with the character(s) in this story; but it may not make much sense to those who do, either, so you might want to read on.
Chuck Norris and Rajinikanth- your reputations are in danger of being ground to fine dust.
Did you just see a shooting star in the sky? Think again; it may not have been a meteorite, but a superhero streaking through the universe in a bid to save the cosmos from evil. On quiet nights, people sit comfortably in front of their television sets, cheering the much-beloved animated character that plays the harp on bridge railings, busts holes through thick walls so your miserly self can watch free cricket, and travels from Earth to other planets at the blinking of an eyelid to meet its friends (when you won’t drag your sorry behind down even to Church Street on a Saturday evening). People watch and laugh at the outlandishness of it all; this is surely the figment of some eccentric advertising genius’s imagination?
Think of this, though- in a safe haven like India, politicians are suddenly going to prison. India won the cricket World Cup and Osama bin Laden was killed. The widely talked-of May 21 apocalypse didn’t occur. Chris Gayle has been smashing the ball all over the park with aplomb, and Bangalore has had a splendid run in the IPL. All because one superwoman is making things happen.
Readers, do not take your good luck for granted. It’s not your cleverness keeping you alive in the crime-ridden streets of your city. Every single move you make is being watched. Do not be surprised if the Big Bang is reversed and you find yourself crushed to debris. If you think Atlas bears the earth on his shoulder, you’re way off the mark.
While you dream your pretty dreams at night, one woman is out there in the squalid streets, fighting the criminals who threaten to turn your life upside down. By day, she is an ordinary software engineer, pretending to be bored of her day-job, playing impressive tennis, water-polo and Cut-the-rope (an indication of her multi-tasking abilities); she gorges on Dark Fantasy biscuits and dances with dervish-like energy (which her flatmates will vouch for, if you’re not one of the privileged ones who have seen the home videos).
By night, though, she is transformed. Near midnight, she pulls on her cape over her black track-pants and white tee, and shoots up into the sky through the roof, so as not to disturb her sleeping flatmates. In a flash, she’s out there in the sky, soaring through the night and pounding the vile criminals who make the mistake of challenging her authority. No gizmos, no weapons, just unparalleled strength.
Next time there is a storm at midnight or a strong clap of thunder, stop to think. Light years away or in your own backyard, it isn’t nature, but a superhero at work.
That wasn’t a meteorite you saw, not at all. It was SuperMagga.