Tuesday, 10 December 2019

The Him in Me

“Dey, your Kuru has fled the country”. I woke up to umpteen such messages on my WhatsAppi screen a few days ago, but being my Kuru’s shishya I was the least bit concerned, because the Him in Me was cocksure that He was not one to flee. It was pretty much evident to any thinking person that He had transmogrified into another dimension, which proved to be true in a few days’ time. He appeared and delivered His message to His bhakths, of whom I consider myself to be the biggest one.

Now, some people think I’m putting up a show about Him being my Kuru. They’re wrong. I genuinely admire and am in awe of his godliness. There are some pretenders out there, the “sad” kurus and “sree to the power of n” kurus who command widespread following among the middle and upper middle-class. These people look down upon my Kuru for His funny, accented English, whereas their suave, flamboyant, smooth-talking, dancing, motorcycle-riding, artfully living kurus speak immaculate Macaulay’s English (which incidentally they despise).

The fact is that He has now cocked a snook at them and their kurus as well as the Exalted One (LAPH) and his hatchet man, who are setting up this Hindu Rashtra, by setting up the first-ever Hindu Rashtra just like that with a snap of His fingers. In retaliation, they tried to accuse that He snuck His cock at nubile actresses and some girls. Accusations which could get any normal anal sphincter killed in a shootout, but not my Kuru. He is in fact influencing a whole lot of influential people from His celestial abode. Want proof.

Here it is. Watch from 2:00.
Another one
I bow before His untrammeled power. The nation, after promising riches to incredible spiritual leaders, ditched Him. Let’s all pray to Him for mercy, lest He opens His third eye and convert us all into anti-matter, which is like poop, but worse.

Talking of poop, a few days ago, there was a news about the Exalted One (LAPH) taking baths at airports, which the world came to know after it was strategically released to the modia by his hatchet man. It immediately set off a train of thoughts in my mind; specifically related to a train called Island Express and a railway station potty. But, before we go into the Island Express story, I must tell you how amazed I was at the Exalted One’s sacrifices to save mankind. Taking bath at airports, but somehow still managing to be elegantly coiffured with not a hair out of place, and then changing into impeccable sartorial creations, as if He was going to meet the press at the airport. But that – meeting the press - is not his schtick. He’s probably getting back on board to go to his next destination and send zillions there into rapture (WAG, HLAWTHH). Word on the street is that he often sneaks out from his luxury hotels and goes to airports to take bath. It’s addictive.

Let’s get back to Island Express and Cakkoos. The Island Express of yore was such an exquisite piece of craftsmanship that, on one of my trips to Kolhapur from Trivandrum, I didn’t want to defile its waterless toilet, instead deciding to do doodoo at Bangalore's Majestic railway station, where I had a stopover. The Cakkoos at the station was another work of art. I went in to find a squat toilet filled with poop, like in an art installation at Tate Museum. On seeing that, I did what any normal person would do in such a situation, which turned out to be a ginormous mistake. I poured some water down the toilet. Loo and behold, the thing came to life. Gurgling sounds, sucking sounds and a small explosion later it began frothing like shaken beer. It reminded me of the place I was supposed to spend the major part of the rest of the day till my evening train – The Pub down at Brigade Road. Anyway, after some major acrobatic maneuvers, half standing, half sitting, I achieved my goal and got out, taking care not to splash water or flush.

Imagine that. As a country we were already teaching avvar young (I was young) to save water sooo many years ago, which the West is learning vonly now. Sorry, that was my Kuru manifesting Himself in me as only He can do. Good day and Happy New Year to y’all.

Recently, I am seeing many well-meaning people worrying about too many things. They’re worried about democracy, worried about human rights, worried about onion prices, worried about the economy, etc. There is a phrase “The economy, stupid” which Clinton used in his campaign to win an election, but that, I’d like to remind them, doesn’t work in the South Asian context. Remember Pak Prez Z A Bhutto who said “We’ll eat grass…but we’ll get our own bomb” after India tested its nuke. Well, they are still eating grass, more or less, even after having their bomb. That’s how things work in this part of the world. For a brief period of time, there was a misguided belief that these crazy Western concepts like human rights and democracy, imposed on India by debauched Westernized leaders, will get established there. Well, luckily it didn’t. It had to come unstuck at some point of time. Evidently, majority of the people cannot accept human rights, etc. in its entirety, which  doesn’t work well with the caste system. The beauty of the caste system is that you always have someone below you in the pecking order to peck (pick) on. Except, of the course, the bottom-most layer, but they’re usually too oppressed to do anything about it. So, across the spectrum people enjoy pooping on the layer below them. Human rights and stuff would deprive them of this very basic happiness. Ergo, it has to go. Now, we have openly designated certain human beings as termites. This is applauded by a vast majority of the population who are elated that a section of the people is finally, finally, living in fear. You’re trying to douse that happiness. You’ve no chance, because, as a friend who told me the reason why he believed the fake feel-good stories of UNESCO and NASA awards, it makes them happy.

Note: LAPH- Let's All Praise Him
         WAG - What A Guy
         HLAWTHH- How Lucky Are We To Have Him

1 comment:

  1. ��. In addition to other things your Kuru is your muse too ! You traced a brilliant trajectory from the anal sphincter to the Cacoose to the Great Indian Septic tank..����