A bit late to wish you, the fifteen readers
who read this, a happy new year, but allow me to do it anyway.
The new year started off with a bang for me. Couple of weeks into 2019, I was
all fired up and leaping around on a badminton court playing mixed doubles. High
ball up front on the left. Sweet. I summoned up my inner Lin Dan, soared to the
left. “Bang!!!!” What was that? One moment I was Lin Dan, and the next I was on
the dang net, clinging to the pole. Who pushed me? Didn’t I order that woman to
stay inside the back box so that I, da man, could lord over the court? I looked back
expecting to see her behind me sneering. But she was still there, at the
back, ready to wait till I ask her to move. Anyway, something strange had happened, and my
left leg appeared to be in a different dimension compared to the right. I
limped off the court, wondering what I did to piss off the badminton god
(hereinafter referred to as "baddie god").
It turned out that I had ruptured my
Achilles tendon, and I decided to take the surgery option offered by the doc. This, obviously,
was not the best choice, as we know these docs and pharma companies are in
cahoots to cheat us. If only I had known about the germanium bracelet and its
miraculous healing powers beforehand. But, as usual, the unholy nexus between mainstream
media, big pharma and the governing mafia continue to successfully suppress such
news. In case you don’t know, germanium is the best source of magnetic energy.
Magnetic fields play an important role in your daily life “as per” many prominent
people. This “as per” is a very important phrase. “As per” is used in sentences
when you have to establish something as an indisputable fact. Once that phrase
is in there, nobody can question it. For example, “as per the Aztecs,
Quetzalcoatl was a peaceful god, who accepted animal sacrifices but not human
blood”. You know it is true because the phrase “as per” is in there. Similarly,
germanium prevents infrared rays from penetrating your body, increases blood
circulation, improves metabolism, relieves fatigue, slows down aging, heals
wounds and even cures cancer, as per many people. The only thing that comes
even remotely close to the miraculous magnetic power of germanium is rubbing
the backside of a female Bos Taurus Indicus, as per ancient texts.
I learnt to not question the “as per” statements right from childhood. There was this incident when my mom and her family were shifting their family goddess from her small thatched wooden abode to a new concrete building. The goddess talked through an old lady (a relative) in goddess lingo or "goddledygook", which the lady then translated into Malayalam. I thought it was an extra process. Either of them could’ve straightaway spoken in Malayalam, but my mom used the “as per” explanation and that was it. While going around the yard, the oracle lady tripped and fell, but then rolled on as if she was planning to do that from the beginning. Again, when I asked my mom, she had an “as per” explanation. Apparently, the goddess liked the new pad. Why not? Hot, tropical climate. What better than concrete to build your house?
Anyway, what we now know is that magnetic
fields are everywhere. It’s true. You might have heard of an eminent
cardiologist in New York, who was given the honorary title of “Lady Magneto” by
an eminent orthopedist from Trivandrum because of her expertise in magnetic
theory. As per her, there are magnetic fields in certain divine areas. Could it
be that I had screwed up the magnetic field in the badminton court, which
triggered the wrath of the baddie god? I had to find why this happened. I was
pretty much sure that such things don’t happen to middle-aged guys with worn
out muscles and tendons trying to channelize their inner Lin Dans. Lying in the
hospital bed, looking at a tube going into my arm and another going out of my
dong - absolute proof of a loving, compassionate god’s wrath - I pondered over
the possible reasons.
Magnetic theory sounded credible. As per
some reliable sources, the theory was tested secretly by NAUSEA
(National Absurd & Unverifiable Story Excretion Agency) in God’s own
Cakoos some time ago. They got some native dudes randomly off the street for
the test. The only criterion was that they should be in their traditional mallu
national dress, which is the “lungi without (underwear)”. First, these guys
were made to stand around in their regular haunts - street corners, liquor outlet
queues, etc., after which, they were moved to an area with a magnetic field. At
each spot, they were asked, “How’re they hanging?” The normal answer is “one
lower than the other”, and that was the response they gave for the regular
areas. For the magnetic area, the study found that both were hanging at
the same level. There are areas like this in Japan too, which are called “powerspots”.
So, this has to be true. I made a mental note of looking into this theory
later.
My train of thought was abruptly broken by
a sweet, sing-song voice from behind the curtain. Someone, probably a nurse,
was talking to the old man in the next bed. A few moments later, the same sing-song
voice apologized to me and pulled back my curtain, and there stood before me a
man of average build with slightly receding salt and pepper hair and a five
o’clock shadow, but delicately feminine in mannerisms and every other aspect.
He (or she) was the pharmacist. He (or she) went on to explain in detail the
medicines I will be taking over the next few days. Kind, considerate and
professional. And, that soothing voice. After, he (or she) left, a thought
crossed my mind. Was there a gay person in the closet where they kept the nets
and stuff? As per many religious texts, gods absolutely abhor such people.
Maybe, my sympathies for their cause had pissed the baddie god off.
Things were getting complicated, and I knew it was time to ask the god. It would’ve been easy if that relative lady with the
hotline to gods was around, but she is long dead, and probably enjoying long goddledygook conversations with the gods. The only option now in front of me was to
take the ancient scientific route, i.e. divining the will of god using cowrie
shells and stuff. Since cowrie shells were hard to come by here in Yokohama, I
used clams. Worked fine in the end, as the baddie god, though Japanese,
delivered the message in English. And that message was the word - “Incontinence!”
In Japan, as in many advanced civilizations, women are banned from doing certain things, like getting inside a sumo ring, because (you guessed it right) they are considered impure. While the gods did get the menstruation impurity thing right, they overlooked incontinence when they set the rules long time ago. You can’t blame them, because almost everyone croaked before they reached the age of incontinence in those days. Reaching the age of 60 used to be and still is a major milestone even in Japan. It is known as kanreki. Nowadays, people here are living close to 85 years on average thanks to germanium and power spots and some minor contributions from modern medicine.
I couldn’t think of anyone with
incontinence at the court that day, but then I thought hard, and I realized that
the lord, as is his wont, has given me a cryptic clue. Of late, I had been
playing tennis and some days I play with people in their 70s and 80s. It is
possible that someone in that group had such issues. That clue, therefore, was
ultimately to convey to me that he smote me for the indiscretion of being unfaithful
to badminton and succumbing to the temptation of tennis. The baddie lord doth
move in mysterious ways. One thing you’ve to admire about the baddie lord is
that the retribution is quick and pin-pointed. A surgical strike, unlike
certain other gods I can think of, who send floods and earthquakes and kill
indiscriminately. Still, I felt it was a bit harsh on me, given that even gods are said to be susceptible to temptations.
What about the tennis god, then? you might
ask. Isn’t the tennis god cruel? Unlike us the baddie people, who are really
nice and have from time immemorial prayed for the good of all other sports
people, those tennis assholes, with their big rackets and balls are really
nasty. And, those soccer guys. Ugh! They’re the worst, but we love them like
family. Their gods also smite people in similar ways - tennis elbow, jock itch,
etc. - but nobody says anything about that because they hate baddie people. (I
included this because many of my friends and relatives told me that it is
necessary to give a balanced view.)
Well, because of all these tribulations and
smiting, the new year quickly moved into the month of May before I could wish
anyone. However, as luck would have it, Japan decided to have a new imperial era
altogether. They decided to move from the Heisei era into the Reiwa era from
May 1. This was done primarily to confuse people, especially foreigners, trying
to fill up the date columns in official forms. Now you have to do complex
mathematical calculations to convert and choose from Taisho, Showa, Heisei and Reiwa
(and in some cases even Meiji) eras. So, wishing you all a happy new era, where
everything remains the same. Patriarchy rules.
