Seedhi Baat, No Bakhwaas

I was walking along the jogging track of the Zoological Park this morning when a potbellied businessman with oily hair greeted me very politely. He said that he had read my Chatternama scribbles with the allegorical implications about resignations and rescinding sweat equities in an earlier Blog and told me frankly that he wasn’t impressed. My ego was bruised. I was, to be honest, so enraged that I wanted to invite him to a steamer ride and toss him over into the Holy River and get the Gangetic Dolphins to feed on him to enable a banquet for the species that is threatened with extinction. Are Gangetic Dolphins vegetarians? Do let me know so that the next time I have such thoughts I will know whether to or not to. I do not wish to offend aquatic sensibilities.

When I got home, the phone rang; I responded to my former teacher’s voice. ‘Why do you write so much of gibberish without understanding the politics of power’? he asked. For gurus I have the highest regard. That’s because, as my indiscrete students say ‘You are a guru yourself’.

But everyone is entitled to redemption. So am I. The truth is that the media always attacks the smaller sharks at the behest of the bigger sharks. The relatively innocent are often implicated in the Kafkaesque world of the woven maze. The oceans are too vast for us to understand its complex cross-currents. At least Tweety Pie is an author of distinction and a person of international repute, who speaks English in English, but what about those who implicated him in a Wittgenstein world of language games he did not understand? Or is he too arrogant to admit it?

They are the sharks. But remember, shark oil is also highly coveted.
Shall we wait and watch?

P.S. Parting shot of the lackey to the businessman: Mohan, if you are a Man you'll give him back his jagir.

I drove home, glugged a bottle of Sprite: Seedhi Baat, No Bakhwaas.