PRANAB on a platter

“Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what’s for lunch.”  :- Orson Welles

On the 19 of July 2012, the Congress party did just that, reducing to record, the national political pastime as orchestrated flatulence.What an indigestible meal was made of a good prime ministerial candidate ! 

   What many are not privy to, is the little story behind this delicate gastronomic disaster that has taken days to contrive. Afterall, every grand feast good or bad, carts with it a story.


    Chef Diggy was busy sifting air in his makeshift scullery behind madams lawn when a commi de rang of questionable repute called Sibal, rushed to the floor of the kitchenette and bellowed " high time to create a masterpiece for the family." Chef Diggy was neither surprised nor shaken,but ever ready to please his masters. After all, he was the chosen one forced into both a political hiatus and a jesterly role, only to deliver the magnum opus.


   The insidious Chef and the crafty commi set to work. With the math done, the flavourings in place, the cold cuts ordered and the garnishes readied, what just did not fall in place was how to 'hunt down the game' which is to be marinated,cooked and served on a social platter. Their masters were neither hunters not connoisseurs of the taste buds, they were after all just gluttonous foodies who would chomp at anything that stood their measly way.

   Thus in wily party circles was coined the term 'sacrificial meal', where the man in the benevolent eyes of their masters was praised for having done so much for the nation and deserved a befitting retirement. He would be offered gratuity on a smouldering spit. The unsuspecting Babu moshai, also the erstwhile chairman of the Indian Statistical Institute,Kolkata, got his statistical count wrong,slipping,tripping,sliding and rolling deep into a coveted 'retirement grease trap'.
   
   Trimmed of matter,as enough has been said in my earlier rants, this is the third sequel in this blog devoted to the well garnished and tastefully served babu moshai. An emboldened reference to earlier posts illustrating the first citizen to be:
  
Press I to.. Dent 
(A dig at the 2012 Presidential Elections)

PRANAB MUKHERJEE : Needs must when the devil drives 

(A cynical profile of the aura that looms around the 13th President)

 



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Press I to.. Dent

The mangled clamour outside the Presidential estate has raised a nasty pile of uneasy queries. 

Lest  we lesser mortals plague our jinxed minds with simple questions pertaining to daily water supply, fuel price hike and energy conservation, the presidential candidates have one worded quips that race the confused length and ambitious breadth of their wondrous little heads. 

Permitted by the simple rules of satire, this illustration examines the polysemous question associated with each of our political brides men that could create a dent in marriages of convenience :

Ladies and gentlemen, the 'press-I-dent'

 

 

CHIDAMBARAM : Of homely affairs & a spooky spectrum

T'was another scam burnt morning.Cows roared,elephants mewed and polar bears hip gyrated to the womanized anthem 'she - la ki jawani' . In the midst of such common occurrences, Uncommon Singh of the  prime ministerial sin-isterial   couch-  the ephemeral custodian of all  things petty in the house of commons, stuttered down the indecisive path of puppet polity. The corner of his hyper myopic - telescope enhanced vision saw white.....white at half mast on a lifeless flagpole. A million sparks of wonder played merry hell into his brilliance choked head.... 

'' A white flag at half mast..fluttering over the office of my home minister ??? '' he pondered.  

'' A white flag suggests surrender, who in the name of authentic Italian pizza is the home minister surrendering to ??? The Naxals ? Tax payers ? Rakhee Sawant ?... who ??'' his excited lungs bellowed.

     

This desperate shriek of panic laced curiosity was heard by the Rust-gula masticating Prey-nab Mukherjee, who lost no time in launching himself into the thick of uncalled chivalry. '' That,what you see is not a flag, but a freshly starched dhoti from the home ministerial wardrobe, soaking both wind and sun for crisp innocence'' he begged to clarify.   
      
'' Oh... is that all, but... why half mast ?'' remarked the unsure leader of the dissipating pack,questioning the breach of pompous protocol.

''Unfortunately, the honourable minister is in mourning and the ministry has taken a unilateral call to publicly reflect this official emotion symbolically - by letting the chieftains garment flutter at half mast ''remarked the prey shepherding fox.

The prime sinister nose dived further into querying ''what in the blazes is he wearing now, if his wrap around adorns the skies, scaring the airborne fauna '' 
 

''Ha..that is a good question,in fact a brilliant question...next question please'' pleaded the unroyal Bengal preying mantle, skirting environmental concerns in gay abandon. 

''For the sake of national interest, I demand to know, what conceals those vulnerable  Chettinad leg pieces now ? 

'' I did fly New York first class on an auctioned emergency ticket to bring to your esteemed notice, how unruly the unwaxed Chettinad legs looked.....it is bad publicity for the celebrated palm that washes the less illustrious hind.''

''What hides those tarnished legs now ??'' demanded a visibly angry Uncommon Singh.

"Well.... he is using a new brand of auctioned undergarments that covers the invisible spectrum, thankfully, its not the next best thing to being naked. Have you tried it.... its called 3 & 2.. G string ??", inquired an overtly curious Mr Mukherjee.

''No'' he snarled,adjusting the folds of his Milan shipped second skin that he had sworn undivided loyalty to.

The arrival of the guilt devoid Mr. Chidambaram, arrested any further verbal ponder into each others innards. His 2 & 3 G stringed corset was generously revealed by a replacement wrap around, folded way above his hairy scary thighs and tucked above the pouting bellybutton of his part bulbous belly. 

'' Gentlemen, welcome to my parlor '', he announced in seldom cherished grandeur. Sensing the doubting duo sizing up his provocative appearance, he sought to clarify..'' Ah this garb, is the latest in political haute couture.The G strings bestow the 'communicative' look. What say, we could issue a party whip on a common dress code ? ''

''I am sure you meant the undress code'' uttered the seldom uttering U Singh. '' I hear you, you mean well..'' he continued, ''you have my full confidence'' he concluded, affixing the official raison d'etre. 

Mr Prey-nub, stopped cold in his conniving track and prevented further unfolding of his  prime sinister design,hyperventilated and let out a high resounding vowel bowel shooting screech ''..aaa--eee--iiii---ooo---uuuu''. Country men, it is this in-digestive howl you mistake as a battle cry within the con-(in)gress. Now,with reality at the back of our soft heads, the curtains rise,the show has just begun. Hope you enjoy these cheap theatrics sold high, as much as the lead party has enjoyed putting it together for us, the revered domiciles.

PRANAB MUKHERJEE : Needs must when the devil drives

Pranab  (PR-AHHH-NAB) !!! An old English proverb,perhaps unknown to congressmen in word, but well rehearsed and adhered to in spirit, states..  'Needs must when the devil drives'. 

A congress politician, who chokes the smooth flowing coerced- dynastic form of leadership is bound to be ceremoniously booted out of the self indulging family coterie. There is no room for a well meaning coup. So, where does that leave the illustrated subject in question ?

A straight arrow in the twisted quiver of the blindly lead herd is, Pranab Mukherjee.  This well weathered bull from the Congress stock, has piloted the party through many a crisis. There is no dearth of neither experience or versatility.Then WHY is it that this gentleman of primal steadiness NOT the obvious prime ministerial choice ??? The answer is obvious.... a second line of leadership is unwelcome and deviously scorned. What needs to be seen is will the man capable of heralding sound governance  be given his due ? 

Changing political fortunes and a dwindling faith in the folly soaked catapulted leader, could , as a matter of remote consideration, herald a much wanted change. A welcome change, in the opinion of a few.

In the worlds largest democratic carnival, unfortunately, there is no alternative political body worth its salt warranting such an impolite consideration.

In that paradigm, could the Pranabs, Chidambarams, Antonys, Jairams and the band of politicians capable of steering this vibrant nation, step out ? The need of the hour, an iron willed armoured charge that fires salvos of change.