“It’ll be safer inside.”
Inside the museum compound was a big nice well-kept
garden with several plants and a variety of roses. At one end of the garden was
the museum building and at the other end was a row of thick trees and car
parking for museum officials.
He sneaked Sonu towards the other side and tied it to
a young tree. Sonu’s eyes were fixed on the nearby garden.
He went towards the museum building which housed the
ticket window. Before he could reach the window he heard the commotion outside.
“HEY HEY…HAT HAT…”
He turned and saw that Sonu was apprehended. He rushed
out. Two security guards were holding Sonu by its neck.
“Wait! Wait! What’s wrong?”
The security guards looked at him angrily.
“IS THIS YOUR GOAT?”
“Yes, yes. What’s the matter?”
“See what it has done.”
He looked towards the garden. Sonu had eaten several
roses. The choicest blue green orange and red roses which the museum was so
famous for. Besides, in the chasing process, the tiny exotic plants were
trampled upon. Sonu stood there in the grip of the security guards, agitated
and panting after all the running around.
Later, the museum management decided to prosecute him
on two counts — for breaking the rules by sneaking in with a pet, and spoiling
the famous garden. However, on that day, he was allowed to go home after paying
a fine and furnishing proofs of his identity and address.
A lower court summoned him a month later. The
government prosecutor wanted a jail term and heavy fine.
“Months of painstaking labour was spoiled in a minute,
my lord. The garden may take months to get back in its original shape. And even
then… even then it may not return to its original form…”
He stood there in the dock with his head hanging low.
“There were flowers, my lord, that were the pride of
the museum. Nowhere in the country such flowers existed. This, besides, the
cost incurred by the museum by way of paying salaries, buying equipment and
pesticides, and security of the garden…”
He seemed to be fixedly looking at something on the
floor.
After a long monologue, the prosecutor demanded two
years rigorous imprisonment and all the costs incurred by the museum on the
garden for one year.
“But wait! Where is the goat?”
He stood silently.
“Yes, Mr Zaibu, where is that blessed goat?”
He did not speak.
“I’m asking you something.”
He was silent.
“Answer where is the goat,” the judge intervened.
“Two days ago, we cooked and ate some of it…and
distributed the remaining mutton to our relatives.”
A sudden silence struck the courtroom. The prosecutor
and everybody else present in the courtroom stared at him. After a while, the
face of the prosecutor twitched.
“Oh! So the goat has already been reprimanded.”
A moment later, the judge fixed his gaze at him,
developed a frown and seemed to think something.
Ten minutes later, the trial ended.
***
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