Goat Days

The show was a bit like the Indian Top Gear. The presenter was decked in a white shirt with pink and blue stripes, and faded jeans. He wore non-reflective shades that covered his whole eye. He physique indicated that he was well fed. Most importantly, he had an aura of affluence and style that reflected the aspirations of the modern Indian, the image that the show's Producer was trying to portray.

Next to him was the product he was endorsing, a BMW 4 series. He stood by its side, near the front. My mother had the volume on mute so I had to decipher what he was saying from his gestures and which part of the car the camera was focusing on. The camera on its part never stayed still. It focused on the headlights, slowly moving from right to left, trying to highlight the streamlined design and deliberately trying to bring out the craftmanship that went into designing it. The the camera switched to the presenter, who carried on talking from the same location, leg still, but palms switching back and forth in front of him as if stating a matter of fact. Then the camera switched to the side of the car, where a metal insignia was attached, that stood out rather brilliantly against the dark blue body.

And then camera switched back to the presenter again. At this point, a whole herd of goats sauntered into the picture unexpectedly, goats thin and famished and not part of the Producer's plan for the show. Most of them carried on walking away from the screen, but one goat, a light brown skinned one, took a small diversion. 

It hopped towards the car's tires, nudged its head towards the front left tyre, seemingly curious by the scent emanating from it. It took a whiff as if to check if it could be eaten. Immediately, it jerked its head away from the tyre, disappointed and unimpressed, and ran back to rejoin its herd.