THE bearded village chief and his bald deputy walked to the edge of the village for their weekly conference. This way they kept away from prying eyes and snooping ears. His bald deputy was a little disconcerted, “Did you have to treat that village chief from the cold village across the seas so badly? Now many of our youngsters can’t go there to study and their visitors can’t come here!”
“Was furious when I saw him,” said the bearded chief stroking his white beard, “Just because he’s good looking, and his face reflects warmth and goodwill he was made chief by his people, while I had to work hard to reach here!” “Our whole village knows how hard you work,” said his deputy, “You have called the village artist even at midnight, to sketch you working hard, and circulate those drawings throughout the village!” “I am not talking of that hard work, “snapped the chief, “I am talking about all the hard work every day that I put into looking tolerant and amiable.
Makeup lines, to soften my face. Smile lines worked into my lips and cheeks, and all this while boy chief, has a readymade smile and walks into his post!” “I see what you mean,” said the bald deputy, “Just because of their warm looks they have an advantage over us!”
“Look at our opposition boy, dimpled cheek and handsome face, and now everybody wants him as leader, forgetting how much work I put into making myself look the same! Sometimes going without breakfast and lunch so the makeup people can finish their work!” whispered the chief wearily. “Now I understand why you become livid when you see them,” said his deputy, “I would too!”
“Of course, you should. Look at you, bald, fat, and prosperous. If not for my help you would still be a shopkeeper in a cloth market! But I get furious when with all the makeup, we become nothing when these pretty boys are around!” “Why should they get things so easily,” said the portly deputy now bristling with rage. And as the villagers looked out of their windows, and wondered how they would get their sons and daughters passes to study in the village across the sea, and as the followers of the dimpled pretty boy, wondered what new conspiracy the two were cooking up, they could not hear the song that burst from the lips of the two standing near the edge of the village:
“Dimples with kind faces, we will not tolerate. Love, and goodness, we’ve now replaced with hate. Let’s rid the world of niceness, and only violence bring, Then always will we be, king and deputy king!” Suddenly there was a clap of thunder, “Run!” cried the village chief, “Or the rain will wash away our makeup, and we’ll be seen as what we really are…!
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