Bigfoot: A Tale Told Twice

By Jo Nambiar

In this story, in rhyme, I narrate as best as I can
Of a creature and a place unknown to any man.
Motives of people who are dear to your heart,
And of an odd adventure that almost came apart
Tragically; but let me not spoil the little surprise
That awaits your expedition into my enterprise.
When you have read this youll see what I meant
I hope your time with this strange tale is well spent.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Jun 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781482874945

Jo Nambiar

Born in Cannanore, Kerala, and educated in St. Edmund’s in Shillong, Jo Nambiar was an athlete, an equestrian, and also holds a master’s degree in kung fu. In the 1980s, as a physical educator at the International Youth Centre in New Delhi, his students of unarmed combat included members of the Delhi Police, Indo-Tibetan Border Police, the Assam Rifles, and the president’s bodyguard. Nambiar worked as a tea planter with the Assam Company for over a decade. He has acted in Shakespearean and contemporary theatre. As a numismatist, Nambiar has one of the largest collections of ancient coins and rare currencies in the country, which has global recognition. He has the distinction of being the convener of the largest children’s carnival in the world, the Bala Mela, held for underprivileged children every year in Bangalore. He is also a painter and a sculptor.

Book preview

BIGFOOT

A Tale Told Twice

jo nambiar

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Copyright © 2016 by jo nambiar.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

This book is entirely a work of fiction. The names characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.

www.partridgepublishing.com/india

CONTENTS

Introduction

PART - 1

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PART – 2

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Afterword

About the Author

Introduction

As stories go, dear Reader, this one is a dawdler;

For neither is it a romance, horror nor a thriller.

I have thrown caution to the wind in my alacrity,

To tell a tale in rhyme, and have taken the liberty

To even dismiss poetic meter, hoping the essentials,

That the story demands of my writing credentials,

Will help you too find rhythm and make good sense

Of my quaint story and my brash poetic license.

PART - 1

1

Sneha was a student of biodiversity

At the North Eastern Hill University.

I, on the other hand, had business planned,

And some dusty farmland inherited from Granddad.

Okay, let’s just say, I was actually unemployed,

But with plans afoot and funds deployed.

Or maybe it was the other way around?

For, by year two thousand and ten, I had run aground!

2

"You need to focus on just one thing, Jo.

One thing at a time and your money will grow."

Such bum advice you receive on an average

Every week, turning your best plans to carnage.

You nod or "ahan!" and to listen you pretend,

But sooner or later they reach out to your girlfriend

With "there are many healthier men out there,

With much better inheritance, career and flair!"

3

A cute girl, this Sneha, I christened her Snaps,

It suited her spirit and her Nepali temper perhaps.

I’ve done everything to keep her scant attention,

But a new boy-scout always appears on the horizon.

She pays flirty attention to one Rahul and one Ashish,

So she could walk me on a transparent leash.

On tenterhooks, self-doubt and bated breath,

We still die in many ways before our deaths!

4

Then there was poor Gita Singh, my sole admirer,

Always tugging, making me look like a philanderer.

Stylish Gita, a woman very wholesomely urban,

Whose wardrobe was nothing less than mink and ermine.

If you think you have clothes that are designer,

She’ll sashay past you wrapped in a Pashmina.

I