Monsignor Hugo wrote a book about gypsies, French police, the clergy and a weirdo who looks kinda like me. He called the book Notre Dame de Paris because the action and setting was an eponymous church in Paris.
The public opined and demanded a change in name because they fell in love with the weirdo and thus came The Hunchback of Notre Dame.
Its all fiction – there never was any hunchback in Notre Dame.
Well, until now that it.
May 2015 saw a hunchback in that world famous cathedral.
However, technically speaking he is not only a hunchback, he is also hunchfront and hunchside. (His spine and backbone are full-fledged card carrying AAP supporters and on perennial dharna – qed chronic debilitating pain.)
But he was seen by all and sundry waddling around and inside the Notre Dame cathedral muttering to the gargoyles and raging at the fates.
Anyone who has read their literature knows how fate screwed Hugo’s hunchback and how the gendarmes beat him up.
History repeated itself (kinda).
Life imitated art.
Within hours of the hunchback loitering inside the cathedral, fate, life and mother nature conspired to wipe off all smiles from his face.
They took away his papers (passport) and his medicines and put him in the tender mercies of the gendarmes who proceeded to use their bonjours and truncheons in equal measure while munching on their cheese.
After a liberal dose of truncheon music, they then kicked him out to the curb in front of the Indian embassy, who promptly told him that their weekend has already started.
So he had to go around begging to save himself from starvation for the next few days
Crooked, hunched, in pain, starving, sick, all alone, condemned and an object of ridicule, disgust and disapproval.
I am the living embodiment of Quasimodo