Desicritics Category: Culture: Satire

Eclipsing the Eclipse

Suresh Naig — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 14:01:25 EST

Solar and lunar eclipses are usual occurrences and so also are the controversies surrounding them. Astrologers claim certain untoward incidents attached to these celestial events and rationalists dispute the same. Certainly eclipses are eclipsed by these people.

It is quite common for religious Hindus to abstain from eating food two hours before and after the onset of eclipses. Equally, it is a common occurrence for the rationalists to distribute freshly cooked food during the eclipses, to dispel the myth. Eclipses are certainly eclipsed.

Many people belonging to the IT sector in Bangalore worked on 9th January, a Saturday, to take a compensatory off on 15th Jan on account of annular solar eclipse. I was wondering why the well informed people from the IT sector were becoming gullible to the religious or scientific myth. Then I realized 14th being a declared holiday on account of Sankranti, these people could avail an extended weekend and the solar "Grahana" came handy. The hype created by the scientific community towards the annular solar eclipse has surpassed the religious fervor and the well informed IT guys have taken an informed decision, to have a long week end.

I remember the last significant solar eclipse in the 80s where it was such a rare event. The media created a hype about it, warning people about the dos and don'ts during the eclipse. The media hype was something similar to the Skylab crash, wherein some Newspapers used to print on their first page the countdown for the crash, 7 days to go, 6 days to go etc. Some villagers in India had vacated their dwellings and moved to faraway places, because it was declared by the media as a probable Skylab crash site and many public transport drivers abstained from duty on the solar eclipse day, fearing untoward consequences. Our group of friends enjoyed the solar eclipse with chilled beer and playing cards staying indoors. Skylab crashed and the solar eclipse occurred without any perceptible damage. Now the next one is around the corner with two consecutive lunar and solar eclipses in quick succession.

I was intrigued by the raging controversy between the religious zealots and the vociferous rationalists and wondered why the Hindu religious practices are always the easy targets for these people. Religious practices such as fasting are common to all religions and why only Hindu practices are mocked at? Is it because the Hindu religion is a soft target making them vulnerable, while all other religious practices are untouched.

Perhaps in all other religions, a religious practice remains as a religious practice and only the Hindus attempt to give a scientific perspective to their practices, irking the scientific community. As long as Darwin's theory of evolution is disputed in the closed walls of Sunday schools in Churches, replaced by the Genesis theory, scientific community is not bothered. If abstaining food, taking bath after eclipses etc are going to remain only as strict religious practices, I am sure the scientific community will ignore it.

Satire: The MNS - Mentally N-ill Sena

sufferingsocrates — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 08:38:15 EST

Note : This post does not intend to hurt or insult Maharashtrians. It is only an attempt to scoff at the absurdity of MNS in trying to push their agenda. I whole-heartedly respect every human and am proud to be an Indian (HINDUSTANI!) and respect every Indian, wherever (s)he hails from. Only after my identity of an Indian, can I claim to be part of any state in India.

Imagine a scenario: Ponting takes the field in the mysteriously titled Honour Series (The what?!. Courtesy:Times Now) or the still more bizarre Grudge Series(The what what ?!, courtesy:Headlines Today) in the final ODI in Mumbai tomorrow. Imagine the contradictorily paradoxical coincidence of Ponting at the press conference with Dhoni. Ponting, speaking in Marathi !?! duh ! MNS workers wielding swords and threatening the Aussie cricket captain at the post match podium - "We don't even care what happens to non-Marathis being assaulted in Australia. But while in India, and that too in Maharashtra's capital, you better be talking in Marathi. We have recorded your on-field conversations. They were in English. How dare you not learn Marathi and set foot on our proud Marathi land ?!" Ponting blinks - "?!?!"

Imagine a scenario: Call Center and BPO firms in Mumbai and Pune. MNS workers would be at the office premises, shouting slogans - "We demand all call centers be shut until the calls are answered in Marathi!". All the employees would be stunned and scratching their heads. But, the justification could well neigh be, more employment opportunities. Don't get it ? Employ a Marathi translator (re-director ?) for every Call Center employee.

Wait. Should the voices on the other side of a call also be in Marathi ?! I wonder. More technological advances to be ushered in. When a caller, calls a number which is at that moment in Maharashtra, owing to pressure from MNS, the incoming voice data service provider should translate the language in the air waves into Marathi and transmit to the receiver ! Language support should be enabled, even if the call is from a tribal land in Somalia. Wow, more employment opportunities. Courtesy, MNS !

Oops, BTW if you are at a cafe' IN MAHARASHTRA and even by the remotest of chances have opened this link, please have Marathi aided specs, so that what you read transforms magically into Marathi and you can read it ! More employment for ophthalmologists ! Look at the advancement for science !

More to follow after the next insane act of MNS. Abu Azmi for the moment has oathfully taken his cabinet position in the Maharashtra Assembly.

There Are No Happily Ever Afters

Deepti Lamba — Thu, 8 Oct 2009 11:53:48 EDT

Love is blind but marriage is an eye opener- anonymous

People fall in love all the time and then just like that they hand in their divorce papers within a few days (in Britney Spears' case the next day), a few months or few years. Sometimes people who've been in live in relationships for over decades throw in the towel once they get hitched. I know people who hold back wedding gifts till the couple cross the first year of marriage. Call it a clever strategy or lack of faith in romance and happily ever afters.

But there cannot be happily ever afters in marriages. Are there 24/7 happy relationships? We fight with our siblings, our friends and even our parents so isn't it natural that we would bicker with our spouses as well?

Yet, I am the first one to say get out of the relationship before you stab each other with kitchen knives as if re-enacting the War Of The Roses. When love sours it brings out the worst in us. We say and do things that would make even our mothers who proclaim they know us best say - my kid wouldn't be smelling his wife's underwear for her office spouse's sperm?!

Okay, I am exaggerating but you catch my drift people in curdled relationships bring out the worst in each other and yet we say - hey buddy, tried a therapist? Stay together for the kids, Stay together for the money just frikking stay together to save the institution of marriage!

And the cherry on the cake is that those who do dish out these platitudes are the ones who enjoy stable marriages. A woman with a broken jaw certainly wouldn't insist marriages are made in heaven or a man with nagging hag be the happiest best man at his buddy's wedding.

But things needn't be that extreme either to part ways. Sometimes people grow apart, drift away and realise that the person living next to them is a complete stranger and rue the phantom years spent together.

So why do we tell people to hang on to dead beat relationships? Why do they stay in dead beat relationships?

I still believe one has to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince but there can be no happily ever afters since he is a frog under that charming skin and you out of sheer desperation to get married kissed the tenth or the twentieth froggie with a baggage full of expectations that curtailed any hopes of that hazy death to us part deal!

Mont Blanc Mahatma

Maaya — Thu, 8 Oct 2009 09:53:44 EDT

If nothing else, I am glad about the one impact of the Mont Blanc's coming up with a limited edition Mahatma pen - a $23,000 pen for a man who probably did not spend even $23 per month on himself. It provoked thousands into reflecting upon the contradictions that we live with and helped us more sharply identify to ourselves what we can consider practical values.

This action of Mont Blanc brings to mind a few characteristics that permeate our culture today. Riding on someone's else's greatness/ popularity. A 'Brand' culture that somehow makes it alright for an ordinary product to take on disproportionate value. A culture that can sell anything!

What was the logic in creating such a product, I wonder. A first-world luxury product to symbolize a man wore a dhoti and traveled third-class? A 'phoren' product for a man who thought, believed and lived 'Swadeshi'? A price tag that might be the entire lifetime earnings and spending capacity of the country's lower middle class, leave alone the close-to-the-Mahatma's-heart poor!?

One wonders whether the designers of the pen even pondered over the values or lifestyle of Gandhi when they designed it. I am sure it is not easy for a designer to create an 'exclusive' product that can suitably synthesize the two extremes - a more-than-elite Mont Blanc and a live-simply, egalitarian Gandhi - to commemorate Gandhi symbolizing his actions and virtues (never mind the vices. We can keep those aside for the moment). Didn't the marketing department of Mont Blanc warn it of the risk of fooling around with such a 'symbol'?

It might have been far better if Mont Blanc had distributed 'ordinary' pens in hundreds of schools to millions of children in the name of Gandhi, catering symbolically to the education needs of the poor. They could have then glorified THIS act into a fancy pen with maybe a concert or two thrown in to raise a few millions that could be distributed to grassroots initiatives. This could have catered to the demands of the 'Brand' needs as well as catered to the desire of Mont Blanc to pay tribute to Gandhi without compromising his principles.

At the moment, Mont Blanc's Mahatma pen does nothing except risk being a laughing-stock at the least and an 'Indian' backlash at the worst.

And in the meanwhile we can wait for the next products - interwoven gold-and-silk dhotis? ivory dandas inlaid with gems? diamond studded, round-framed spectacles? Suggestions, anyone?

A Panacea For Evil Looks

Rahul Jauhari — Thu, 1 Oct 2009 16:34:07 EDT

Dear Brother Teleshopping:

No greetings to you.

Apologies, but I do not know how to greet someone as enlightened as you.
You see, late Sunday night, we were all watching TV at the village square.
Talli, in his usual high spirits, was playing with the channels.
It was he who stopped at this amazing vision:
A man and his wife are seated in their house.
A lady relative is visiting them.
"How is everything?" she asks them.
"Great. Business, life, home, everything is great," he replies.
The wife beams.
The visiting lady looks at the man jealously.
Evil rays emerge from her eyes and head towards the man.
But just before they reach him, a mystical shield surrounds his head, deflecting the evil red rays.

We watched with bated breath.

Magic?
No.
It was the Nazar Suraksha Kawach.
The Evil Eye Bead that can protect one from evil looks.
Available for only Rs. 2375.
What a revelation. What a discovery.
This magical Nazar Suraksha Kawach, we were told, had saved many marriages from breaking and many businesses from collapsing.

Do you know how irritating it is to the nose when chachi burns all those red chillies every time she tries to save Bansi's son from the evil eye?

Not anymore.
After all, your wonderful Evil Eye Bead is also smoke-free!

Brother, I am the converted preaching to you now.
You have opened our eyes.
Now we know why Jaggu (aka Jags) got polio when he was three.
Now we know why there was no rain last year.
Now we know why brother Shiny Ahuja was caught.
Now we know why uncle Bhushan can't perform in spite of four marriages.
It was definitely because of an evil eye.
But thanks to you, nothing like that will ever happen again.

Brother, you know things no one else does.
You are a visionary, a saint, a prophet.
You possess exceptionally rare wisdom.
Do you know how we figured that out?
Well, we checked online.

Even the glorious wikipedia does not know about your Nazar Surakhsha Kawach

PS: Savitabai is ordering 20 pieces - one for each member of her village kotha. She says the evil eyes of the wives of her honorable customers are always threatening them.

Animal Husbandry, a la My Wife

Suresh Naig — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 14:33:56 EDT

Recently I was a privileged guest in a luxurious farm house belonging to one of my contacts in Andhra Pradesh. With its large green house where roses are tended with piped music, a massive hall centrally air-conditioned with a projector and giant screen, a bowling court, tastefully designed cottages textured with bamboos, a long verandah running the entire length of cottages, all flaunted the rich taste of the owner in every square inch.

Sitting on an intricately carved sofa which complemented the ambience of the verandah, I and one of the close associates of my contact, were giving final shape to the business proposal. Suddenly from nowhere a full grown German shepherd appeared and came towards me. From the physical movement of the dog with its head bowed down, tail wagging, swaggering its ass like a model on ramp; I could recognize its friendly gesture. The dog came very close to me, brushing its thick fur against my trousers it went straight to the other person and licked his forearm.

I commented, 'it's a friendly dog',

Acknowledging my comment, he raised his hand threateningly at the dog and shouted, 'Sit down'.

Sensing that something was wrong I told him, 'Don't raise your hand straight above the head of the dog, it will infuriate the dog'.

He immediately brought down his hand and rested it on the arm of the sofa. The dog sat quietly on the floor, placing itself at a vantage position. Oblivious of the dog, we continued our business discussion.

Most of my knowledge about animals is due to my wife who is fond of animals and often I have witnessed animals behaving like children with my wife. She seemed to understand the language of animals, so much so I felt that her communication is better with animals than with human beings, I and her in-laws included. During morning walks she had picked up friendship with many dogs, groomed and strays alike. She used to make some funny noise and many of the stray dogs would follow her wagging their tails, like the rodents followed the fabled piper.

One morning she had petted a cute little Golden Retriever in front of our house, when the pet accompanied her master for a stroll. From then on, she would not cross our house until my wife came out and cajoled her, making our pet dog howl out of envy. My wife is not obsessed only with dogs; she can communicate with almost all animals, wild and domesticated. She loves watching kittens, sparrows, crows, and lizards too. Recently when the vacant site adjacent to our house was cleared of all bushes, she took pity on the snakes which were living there for long.

She commented to me, 'Where will these poor children go now?'

Long ago, I served in Kerala for a brief period of one year at Calicut, its original name Kozhikode restored now. My wife spent the summer of '91 with me in a modest cute house I had rented. Every morning she would recite religious hymns and would light a pair of oil lamps, standing in front of two small bronze idols. Roughly 10 days after she joined me at Calicut, she pointed out to a squirrel waiting outside the window of the makeshift pooja room. The squirrel was waiting with expectation standing on its hind legs, and with its fore arms folded in front of its raised body. My wife was very happy to notice that the squirrel came everyday to listen to her chanting.

When she threw the burnt cotton wick of the oil lamp to replace it with a fresh one, I understood the reason for the squirrel's rapt attention to my wife's chanting. It jumped at the wick and vanished behind a bush to savor its equivalent of smoked salmon. I explained to my wife, that it was a re-enactment of the famous experiment of Pavlov on conditioning, which my wife could relate to immediately, being a teacher by profession.

Our conversation at the farm house was interrupted by the honk of an automobile horn and the master of the farm got down from the car. He turned pale seeing us in the company of his dog. He called at the dog mildly and it went obediently to him. He called another name and a person appeared discreetly from a nearby structure and froze. Regaining his composure he commanded the dog to follow him, which it did like a trained soldier; he locked up the dog in its kennel which was at the other end of the verandah. Until it was securely locked up, the chauffeur of the automobile never came out of the car.

The owner of the farm house was surprised and he said it was only providence that nothing had happened to us. He narrated that once his driver was pinned down by the trained dog when he tried to fetch a bucket of water to wash the car. Trying to wriggle out from the dog's grip he had lost some flesh and that was the reason he never got down from the car until it was securely locked up. It was indeed due to my wife's credit whose tutelage had turned me friendly with the beast, and my comment that it was a friendly dog made the other person comfortable with the dog. I never knew that he was also a stranger to the dog. Since we never reacted queerly, the dog instead of pouncing waited patiently keeping a watchful eye on us.

I was narrating these strange incidents to my wife over lunch, upon my return to Bangalore. She served "Khadi"- a preparation made out of curd, coconut and spices. She had used red chillies instead of the usual green ones and was watching me curiously reading my reactions. When asked, she said 'I felt there is something amiss in that dish; I waited for your reaction before I could serve it on my plate.'

Until then I never realised that she loved "Guinea Pigs" too.

Fiction: Toad Talk

Deepti Lamba — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 09:23:59 EDT

I rescued a toad from a hovel and gave him a villa instead. The hovel was a little garden pot with an inch of water in it and the villa was my lily pond. I gently picked up the pot that lay on the driveway and slid him out of the pot into the lily pond.

Feeling I had done my bit for mother earth I was about to walk away when he croaked- "Ribbit"

I turned back to look at him and gave his scaly face a benevolent smile “You're welcome.”

“Ribbit!” he croaked again

“You're a talkative one.” I spoke to him again and he stepped on a lily leaf and looked at me. I stared back at him. This was a definite Syfy moment. His scaly head bobbed a little as if he was checking me out and he spoke "I like what I see!"

I gasped and looked around wildly "Did you just speak to me?"

He stuck his tongue out to catch a passing dragonfly and missed.

"Why? Do you think you are the only one who can speak in English?"

I remained quiet and stared at him.

"Speak woman! no, you aren't crazy. We can speak. Ask your temporal. His Nawwab talks to him all the time."

"Er.....you are on Desicritics.org?" I spoke up and then pinched myself hard on my arm.

"Actually no! I visit his site baithak quite often. We poets like to keep an eye on each other."

"Really? And what were you doing in my flower pot?"

"I was in a Jacuzzi and you threw me into a swimming pool."

"Lily pond" I corrected him.

He carefully moved on to a fatter leaf and croaked "Does it matter? Anyway you did me a good turn now I want to return the favour. "

I shook my head "No its okay. Not required. I ...er...need to go back in."

"No wait! I was thinking - maybe you can marry me?"

"What?!" I gaped. The toad was barely bigger than my hand

"I can't marry you!" I shook my head at him.

"Why? I'm well settled. I can speak English with a neutral accent. I like reading your hot stories and kind of like your kids too."

I glared at the toad and spoke "I'm sure I am losing my mind here."

He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a croak and I shuddered "No, you're not, woman. We could bump off your husband, take his millions and visit this sadhu who will turn me into a handsome young man and help you get that twenty year old body again and we'll be happy"

"You are an evil reptile" I gasped

"Evil? No! An opportunist? Probably! So what do you say?"

"No!" I shouted then tried to calm my nerves. I spoke again "No! I'm not interested."

"You aren't huh? But lady you have no choice. I will make sure that you will be mine."

That fat toad looked sinister and the world suddenly seemed to close around me and I couldn't breath.

I spread my hands out and shouted "Leave me alone."

"Never!" he croaked and lunged towards me. I turned and ran out of the garden towards the driveway.

He followed croaking my name and I imagined his wet slimy body somehow hanging against my jeans legs. I ran towards the driveway and saw the part timer open the main gates.

She stared at me in surprise as I ran towards the porch.

Aaman's car took a sharp curve through the iron gates, into the driveway and I watched the jumping toad squelch under the front tire in a matter of few seconds.

I pushed back a scream and tried to compose myself- a talking toad killed under my husband's car. This wasn't murder Dee. I told myself. So what if he was a talking toad. He was just a toad.

Aaman opened the door of the car "Hi babe what's up?" he asked holding his Blackberry next to his ear.

"Er..nothing." I gave him a weak smile and let him pass inside the house.

I stared at the front tires of his car, took a deep breath and followed him in. My toad saving days had come to a quiet squishy end.

What Women Want

KG — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 07:15:30 EDT

Since this is my first post, I thought I'd start with a subject all of us guys love to talk about.

Women.

I believed that Musicals were for women until I saw Sweeney Todd (the movie). Absolutely bloody effing brilliant. From the writing to the music to Tim Burton's realization of the play- incredible. The fact that it had Helena Bonham Carter didn't hurt.

That got me thinking. Would the Indian ideal of a woman do the same? Would she lie and connive to keep the man she loved? Would she sleep with him all the time knowing he didn't love her? Would she aid him in murder? Would she love his child from another wife?

You know what, maybe she would.

For as the demon barber of Fleet Street sings-

Pretty Women..
At their mirrors-
In their gardens,
Letter writing,
Flower picking,
Weather watching-
How they make a man sing!
Proof of heaven, as you're living...

Someone tell me, WHERE ARE THESE WOMEN? We need them.

The terrible part is, that we might have had them if we were born long long ago.

Take Draupadi- an enigma in the Mahabharata. Now of course, any mention of polyandry and you'll have the purists touching their ears and warding you away, lest your sussurations pollute their homes. Now she was, to my mind the first feminist. A woman of blazing beauty, (by all accounts) what continues to fascinate is the way she used her loins- for both good and ill. Oh yes, who are we kidding? Why did she go to the fateful game of dice in a 'single garment stained with blood'? She should have taken some Meftal Spaz and stayed at home. I propose that she had an inkling that her state would come in handy if the need arose. It did. And ultimately, the whole bloody (pun intended) war was fought because of one woman. And she knew it- perhaps even planned it. Ruthlessly planned it for power- under the garb of restoring her honour. It took 13 years, hundreds of deaths and the loss of her own sons, but she got there in the end.

Lets not even start about her relationship with Krishna- which, deny all you like, has always been more than a little ambiguous. That she worshipped him from afar seems obvious, but there is a fine line between worship and love (maybe even lust).

Yet, in spite of having five husbands and still trusting someone else more than any of them, Draupadi has always been considered a virtuous woman. Never as a politically savvy schemer. I'd even call her a reformist.

What makes it even more interesting is, that even if you look at the Mahabharata (as I do) as a great fictional epic and not gospel truth, the fact that a writer in those times - a man in all probability - could conceive of such a character and not turn her into a whore is really far sighted. That free thinking was so prevalent in ancient India makes one boil with wrath at the current state of affairs.

From those lofty times, are today's women worse off? It's hard to tell. Yes, inspite of those crazy fire spitting feminists (Good day Ms Roy) who quite frankly I think need a good romp in the sack with anybody, in spite of some men with inflated egos who, when their fiancee breaks it off say, 'You should marry me because I'm good at studies and you're an average student..'

Yet for all these people, there is a Sonia Gandhi who, whether you agree with her politics or not, is an interesting case study. An Italian woman, meets the heir to the throne (rolls eyes in disgust), marries him and soon after his death becomes the most powerful politician in the world's biggest democracy. That's a real story. Or a certain Ms. Mayawati who uses all her evil genius and rules with impunity. Or even Sushmita Sen, who gets around and doesn't care what anybody thinks.

The position Indian women are in today- is strangely dichotomous. One the one hand you have some who can head a Biocon, and on the other you have those who equate a date with marriage instantly. The only reason we ask them out has got to be marriage. If you say you just want to get to know them better they reply, why not as friends?

It's this disparity between professional and social freedom that baffles.

This is probably because the idea of marriage has been drilled into everyone's heads as the sole reason a girl exists. Even among educated society. Wanna date me? Marry me first.

The evolution of the Indian woman has been a little strange- from an emancipated personal life in ancient times, to wonderful professional opportunities nowadays. Long ago she could still sleep with the Sun God no less, have a child, remain a virgin, ditch the child, have no regrets or guilt, and then years later, blithely ask the same child not to kill her 'real' sons with absolutely no qualms whatsoever. She didn't get to rule, but she was the power behind the throne. Paradoxically, in modern times, our women are given a lot of freedom to pursue careers (more or less). But personal morality is of paramount importance. She has to be 'pure'. She shouldn't wear short skirts even to play tennis. She shouldn't hang out in pubs. She should be 'perfect' and should be married by 25, otherwise she's deemed 'too old'. It's different for us menfolk, we can fuck who we want and get away with it (grins wickedly- Yeah baby!)- but somehow an Indian woman's virginity is of paramount importance. As to why, that's beyond me. Is it objectification of women? Maybe. I mean YES! It's just crass and low.

That being said, I think I'm gonna dump my girl tonight- her forehead's too wide, one nostril is wider than the other and I didn't like the location of her tattoo.

Turkey Sausage

Raj Jayaram — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 10:29:41 EDT

This reads more like a tale from "Ripley's Believe it or Not", but according to this news item, the decision of a court in Turkey is pending on the punishment to be awarded to a woman who has been accused of chopping off her lover's penis! The sentence will depend on whether the man regains full use of his organ, which has been surgically re-attached.

I hope the fact that the story is so gross does not prick your sensibilities. In fact, this story should serve as a reminder to every Tom, Harry and, especially, Dick that they cannot tool around with the affections of a woman.

Court hearings, we are informed, will continue from time to time. In other words, it will be a ding dong process.

The extent to which the woman will be given the judicial shaft depends on the future functionality of the dismembered member, but it appears that she will not be spared the rod.

It is heartening to note that the judicial process will take its time and not rush into a decision half-cocked.

I wonder if they have an official pecker checker process. If there are no volunteers for that job, someone may be forced into it willy-nilly.

Eventually, I guess interest in this case will peter out.

But, if everything returns to normal for the man, we can conclusively proclaim, "The penis, mightier than the sword".

Satire: Super-califragilisticexpiali-stitious

Raj Jayaram — Wed, 9 Sep 2009 08:29:12 EDT

The members of the association of Progressive Indian Women (Bharatiya Unnatisheel Mahilayen a.k.a BUM) were livid with rage. They had just read this news item about young girls being made to plow the fields naked in a village in Bihar, because the villagers believed that this would embarrass the rain gods into making rain fall on their village (Yes, really). The President of BUM, a successful television personality, who had just reached agreement with her personal numerologist on the exact number of P’s that needed to be there in the name of her next TV show, tried to pacify the agitated group and said that she would demand thorough investigation into this gross abuse of women’s rights.

The President of BUM immediately picked up the phone and spoke to her good friend, the Editor of “Taaza Khabar”, the newspaper known for its hard-hitting features. “In this day and age, how can anyone do something so backward?” she fumed, twiddling, as she often did when she was agitated, with her ring studded with emeralds (her birthstone). She demanded that the Editor send someone to Bihar right away to look into this horrid episode. The Editor summoned his top investigative journalist, Remington Typewriterwala, and asked him to go forthwith to Bihar and come up with a detailed report on the incident. Having dispatched Remington on this important assignment, the Editor went back to proof-reading the horoscope section of his newspaper.

On reaching the village, Remington met the ‘mukhiya’ (or Chieftain) of the village and asked for more details on the incident. The mukhiya explained that this was done under the instructions of the ‘Guru’ of the village, the venerable Gai Baba, who made amazingly accurate predictions about the future by examining his cow, which was reputed to have magical powers. When Remington reached the abode of Gai Baba, the venerable guru took him to the shed where the magical cow was tethered. Baba lifted the tail of the cow and carefully examined its posterior, claiming that he could therein see the, er, hole truth. Baba explained to Remington that there was no mistaking the omens which clearly portended that rains would come only if the young girls plowed the fields naked. Those, he said, were the bare facts and invited Remington to take a look for himself if he did not believe it.

Not an expert at taking readings from the magical Holey Cow, Remington asked Baba if he was sure. Indignant at the prospect of having his predictions questioned, Baba dropped the dung he was patting into a cake, reached with both hands behind Remington’s ears, produced a ‘laddoo’ in each hand and started munching on one as he offered the other to Remington. Politely declining the offer, Remington then made his way to the local police station.

He asked the Inspector at the police station if he had taken any action against the people who had made the girls plow the fields naked. The Inspector said he was awaiting instructions from the Secretary to the Minister and asked Remington to speak to the Secretary, who was at the Government Guest House, near the village.

With unflagging determination, Remington made his way to the Guest House and asked the Secretary, who was sitting with another gentleman, about the incident. The Secretary said that they were waiting for a detailed report from the Bank Manager before they could decide on the appropriate course of action. Completely flabbergasted, Remington wanted to know what any Bank Manager would have to do with it. Condescendingly, the Secretary explained that it was not the Manager of any commercial bank whose report was awaited but the Manager of the Vote Bank. After considering all the niceties of caste, community, language and dialect, the Vote Bank Manager would recommend what action (if any) needed to be taken. The Minister would then announce his decision at the precise hour and minute decided by his family astrologer.

As Remington started walking away speechlessly from the Guest House, he was joined by the gentleman who was with the Secretary before Remington had arrived. The gentleman introduced himself as a legislator from the neighboring state of West Bengal. Remington discovered that the legislator was staying at the same lodge where he himself was put up and as they walked towards it, the visitor from Bengal explained how such a thing would never happen in his home state.

The visitor explained that the Communist Party, which rules West Bengal, operated on an entirely rational basis and would never hesitate to take stern action when required. He quoted the leader of his party who had said that Cuba was the ideal to be followed (Yes, really). If only they could have their way, he said that all these purveyors of superstition would be rounded up and sent to a concentration camp for re-education, where they would be made to abandon astrology and embrace Castro-logy.

They reached the lodge and saw that a Chinese gentleman dressed in flowing robes was waiting for the legislator from Bengal. The legislator introduced the foreigner to Remington as Mr. Loh Fatt Ghee, the world-renowned Feng Shui Master who was traveling with the legislator on a tour of India (on orders from Beijing, of course) and was also helping the legislator apply the principles of Feng Shui to his house in Kolkata.

At that point, Remington decided to drop his investigation into the Bihar incident and go back to the case he had been looking into earlier – the mysterious surge in the number of suicides among scientists.