Being a Don’s Best Friend!

He said he wanted to be a don. I never expected him to succeed in it. But there he is, now!  My best friend-a don! Oh, not the average, dangerous types! He believes in ‘Love makes men big, and hate makes them small’.
And to anyone who knows him-his juniors, his close acquaintances, the reporters-he is the biggest man to have walked the streets of the country, may be even the world. He respects the women in his life-his mother, his sister, his wife and me. He thinks about the sins in crimes, before committing them. That theory of his: Wow! It’s got him to places-including the throne of the underworld.
It was a cold night, the night my parents died-the night they were killed-cold murder. I was ten, then. It came with a tag-the corpses. It said, “Never, EVER mess with our Bhai: for future references.
Bhai woke me up from that long night five years later-he was sixteen then. He had been the eldest and the only son of his parents. After the five numb years of my life, he’d decided he’d be a don, an ethical don!
I’d seen him at sixteen, a confident young man with unmatched leadership qualities; and at twenty-one, graduating, ironically, from law school; then through the ranks of ‘the underworld’.
Then, after he became the king with no crown, he banned killing, without a cause: THE KILL GAME; and then selling of women and children on streets.
Bhai, my best friend believes in Madonna, and that selling kids or women on streets is a sin. He doesn’t support drugs, honor killing, or killing for ‘fun’, as his preceder did! That takes them all off the streets of the city-he ruled the country, in that way: the police and major Government officials succumb to money-to the fresh, hot smell of the ‘valuable’, ‘beautiful’ money!
People know he’s important. They respect him. He puts them all together, right.
He’s the man with the reporters, the one who works in the background-the one who does all the work while the others bask in the glory.
He’s my ideal man-my ideal human-he helped me come back from the half-dead to life-he told me how to live life, how to love life and he showed me the path.
So, tomorrow, as I gather with his closest friends and acquaintances to mourn his tenth death anniversary, I’ll still love him as I did eleven years ago and before that. And I’ll take pride at being a don’s best friend!
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About TheBlackWallflower

I'm just your average unique person. I love to read and write (no surprises there, eh?) and think a lot. I adore Rowling and think Harry Potter should be a religion. I also hate pink. I love fluff generally because it makes me feel intelligent and I love poetry because it makes me feel different. (yes, references.) I'm married to Sirius Black. So I sign myself as The Bitch alarmingly often. Oh, and I love Mr. Darcy. And Jo Longo. And Chandler Bing. And Sherlock. (Yes, I'm a fantard.) And in case you want to drop in a good, or a critical word, feel free to email me: theblackwallflower@gmail.com OR, follow me on Twitter: @WallflowerBlack Enough with the babble. OkBye. View all posts by TheBlackWallflower

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