I would never know how many guys will hate me for this. Neither would I know, how many girls will pretend to hate me for doing a piece on the art of farting.
It is only today that the Gauris and Prithvis sent up by India and Pakistan are making all the noise. But it has not always been like this.
There was a time, when a well-timed fart would have been loud enough to attract attention. Believe me. Or ask any of my uncles.
In the days of the yore, the dal-roti diet ensured that there was enough of celebration going on. Diwali or no Diwali, there were enough fire-crackers.
There were the loud ones. Then there were the silent ones. And the adage “barking dogs seldom bite” holds true for farts too. In my 20 year association with the art of farting, I have never heard one that smelt bad. It was always the unseen, unheard that did the maximum damage to the nostril hair.
For me, it all stared one day when all of a sudden, without any prior intimation, one loud one escaped my system. As my luck would have it, it happened when everybody was silent and the teacher was about to take attendance. It brought me instant popularity. Now, the teachers knew me by name.
I took immense pride in the commotion it created. I would let go one, and look out for the reaction. I would suggest you try it out sometime. I can assure you that the feeling of relief when combined with the happiness of seeing the expression on other’s faces change is a potent mix.
Perhaps, I will never understand why people shy away from farts. Each one of us is guilty (is guilty the word?) of letting go, once in a while. Man. Woman. Boy. Girl. Everybody. Why then, do they shy away?
I have never heard of anybody being sent to the guillotine because he/she farted. Well, yeah, many sent to the guillotine have known to be good farters.
In fact, the Indian Judiciary is witness to instances when the man in the witness box has accepted to a murder but has refused to own up to a fart.
There are all kinds of farts. The sneeky. The smelly. The dubious. The burst. The Installment. The push through. The bulbous. The short and sweet. The blink-and-miss. You name it and the practitioners of the art, have it.
But now, the art is fading. Something like the Murals ….everybody loves it but nobody can afford it.
If you want to join the Fatso Fart Federation, just mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org and we could meet up for some fire-crackers.