A habitual indolent day at the Drones club was in full swing. Apart from a few snores, the most rigorous activity consisted of men moving their hands to turn the pages of the newspaper over or to blow out a puff of smoke from the pipes left hanging in their mouth. In utter contrast to the tone, an Egg was animatedly discussing his recent exploits spent in search of the ever elusive Whippoorwill in the Scottish marshes to a Crumpet, who, had the polite look of feigned interest carefully arranged on his face. At this moment in came a Pieface, burnt brown by the sun.
'What ho!'
'What ho! What ho!' said the Egg.
'Uh, hullo! Where have you been?' asked the Crumpet.
'India'
'India?'
'Ah! Yes'
'So how's your blood? Filled with malaria, eh?'
'Quite the contrary'
The Egg & the Crumpet raised their eyebrows a fraction.
'What do you mean? The malaria in India is filled with your blood?'
'Oh no! I'm fit as a fiddle'.
'As the fiddle Mr. Wheatherbartometer possess or as the one Mr. Lockslehall owns?'
'The one with Mr. W.' assured the Pieface.
'Excellent because, although Mr. Lockslehall doesn't know of it, the wood in his fiddle is of inferior quality'
'Quite right you are! He was swindled by the fiddle maker in Estonbury'
'Exactly'
'How's good old India?' enquired the Egg.
'Fine and all that!' said the Pieface, 'Did you know they have celebration similar to Guy Fawkes Day in India?'
'You certainly don't mean the one wherein they have fireworks'
'I certainly do mean the one wherein they have fireworks!' explained the Pieface.
'Well, old chap, you know how it is, people copy the English everywhere', said the Egg puffing up.
'No, no, my dear Egg, this one originated eons ago'
'Really?'
'Really!'
'Like when?'
'Like when the chaps back home had started to lay out the blueprint of Stonehenge'
'!'
'!!'
'It's called Diwali over there'
'Why?'
'Why not?'
'Ah! Point well taken, do you know how it came about?'
'Certainly, old chap, it's an interesting story.'
'What's the story?' asked the Crumpet.
'You might as well ask.'
'I do ask.'
'Ah!'
It's like this (said the Pieface) there was this king who had two wives and was slightly off the rocker.
'With two wives what else can you expect!' exclaimed the Crumpet.
'The 2nd wife, now, was something in the order of Desiree' Menswear and she made the king throw out his son, the heir to the throne, so that her son could become the king.'
'Was she redheaded?' asked the Crumpet.
'What difference does that make?'
'It's generally the redheads who create all the trouble.' replied the Crumpet.
'She probably was. The trouble with the story is that it isn't properly documented.'
'They probably didn't know redheads spell disaster.'
'Eh? I thought redheads spelt r-e-d-h-e-a-d-s.' said the astonished Egg, his foundations in English shaken all at once.
'I meant figuratively.'
'Ah!' smiled the Egg, seeing the light.
'Anyways, the king sent his eldest son, Ram, out on exile for 14 years' continued the Pieface.
'Are we talking of goats here, what?'
'Eh, what?'
'The king's son was a ram?'
'No, no, you silly old goose, that's his name!'
'Ah!' said the Egg, the mist clearing.
'Where was he exiled to?' asked the Crumpet.
'The forest'
'The forest?'
'The forest!'
'What luck!'
'No such thing for the poor chap,' said the Pieface despondently, 'His wife & brother tagged along.'
'You don't say!'
'I do say!'
'My heart bleeds for him' said an aggrieved Crumpet
'Absolutely'
'But you know it was alright,' said the Pieface, 'since it was sort of a prolonged hunting expedition, what with bows and arrows.'
'Hunting dogs too?'
'They used monkeys'
'Monkeys!'
'Monkeys; the monkeys threw coconuts on the target from high above in the trees.'
'A novel idea I would like to say'
'And I would agree if you said that'
'Well, whatever works for them'
'My thoughts concur'
'But you know it is old chap, good things never last' said the Pieface philosophically.
'Hear! Hear!' (The Crumpet)
'You mean they had to go back home?'(The Egg)
'No, this is where the ruffian comes in.'
'Just like movies, eh?'
'Just like the movies!'
'So, this blackguard, chap called Ravan, sees Ram's wife and thinks, "Why not carry her off?"'
'And?'
'He carries her off'
'What luck!'
'Yes, Ram finds out his wife's been abducted and his happiness knew no bounds.'
'And he lives happily ever after?'
'No, after a time period 't' Ram realized that it was a matter of honor to get his wife back'
The Egg and Crumpet nodded solemnly, being English gentlemen they knew all there was to know about honor and damsels in distress.
'And with a heavy heart he set out, with his battalion of monkeys.'
'This is an enthralling story, what?' commented the Egg.
'Much more so than those blasted whippoorwill's of yours,' snorted the Crumpet.
The look the Egg gave the Crumpet would have shriveled the best of flowers high in their bloom, but the Crumpet being a Crumpet and all that, remained unaffected.
'Well, to cut the long story short, Ram went to this chap, Ravan's, lair, bashed him like any of you would to a fly bothering you and won his wife back.'
'Hurray! Hurray!'
'Ditto! Ditto!'
The Egg and Crumpet beamed as like a couple of 7 year olds who have just been told thier favorite bedtime story.
'And then?' asked the Egg, eagerly.
'What then?'
'Yes, Yes, what then?'
'Well after much deliberation they found out that the 14 years they had to spend in exile had terminated and they could return back to the pavilion,' said the Pieface.
'Timely, eh!'
'Precisely'
'And so they went back home and the people to celebrate Ram's return lit lights and had fireworks.'
'Ooooooo! Isn't that lovely, what?'
'Absolutely.'
'And that my dear friends, is how Diwali started.'
Saying thus the P. moved to a corner of the Drones club for a drink and a light.
Before the E. could start again on his Scottish exploits the C. slithered towards the door and was out, quicker than E. (or for that matter anyone) could say arzanbulbul.