A dirty word called Politics

New Delhi has discovered an ingenious way to cope with its bursting-at-seams population.  It keeps unleashing anew deadly bacteria every few months to tackle this menace. The newest kid on the block is the NDM–I gene. British scientists have recently claimed the presence of the deadly New Delhi Metallo gene in the city’s drinking water supply.  This is no faltu gene, but a superbug that makes bacteria resistant to even the strongest antibiotics.  Once you get infected, your only hope will be almighty’s benevolence, whichever way that takes you.  The Delhi government is not too perturbed though and is tackling this menace the only way it can – by making an official statement “we have not seen it, therefore it does not exist”.  I guess ‘superbug’ conjured images of little green things with their undies worn outside that Ms Dixit was unable to behold through her ageing eyes.  These overzealous Brits, I tell you, they have nothing better to do and are now training their sights on Sheila ki Dilli.  Of course, we know our denizens are used to much worse – live worms, dead worms and sewage in our tap water – what’s a teensy weensy bug claiming to be super!  And if Delhites can’t drink water they can always drink beer!  Ms Dixit will soon be seen on life sized hoardings, holding her beer mug, flashing her dentures and saying Yehi hai right choice baby!  

In politics you become an ostrich with its head buried in the sand, bugged or otherwise.

Delhites may have become inured to politicians and their bakwas but all hell can break loose when godmen, known to pontificate on spirituality, start talking instead about matters political.  And who knows it better than Baba Ramdev when he faced the wrath of one of his followers who sent him hurtling to the exclusive shoe club, one that boasts of such stalwarts as George W Bush and P Chidambaram.  

Caricaturecartoon.blogspot.com

Mitu Singh Rathore, a paramilitary forces soldier, had taken leave to travel to Nagpur to listen to Ramdev’s yoga discourse and got to hear an unnecessary speech on politics instead.  Things came to such a point that Rathore opened his boots and hurled the pair towards the guru.  Baba promptly folded himself in half to avoid impact.  Perhaps this was Rathore’s humble contribution to the Yoga guru’s otherwise shirtless- shoeless wardrobe.  And if Ramdev continues to regale his unwitting disciples with unwanted political discourse, who knows he may end up with a collection larger than Imelda Marcos’s.  

Pranayam and Politics do not mix well.

As a subject, Politics does have a reputation for being the least fascinating of subjects. A British teen yawned so deeply during a class on the topic that her mouth got stuck wide open and she couldn’t close it however hard she tried.  It was later discovered that she had dislocated her jaw. 

Students should give serious thought to recording such political discourses and marketing them as lullabies for insomniacs worldwide.

Politics may be yawn-worthy as a subject but once you step into the murky world of Indian politics, you are granted the boon of eternal youth.  At 82 you are still nursing your Prime Ministerial dreams and at 87 you are still at the peak of your youth.  So imagine the shock when a 40-year old chubby lad, a baby by our national standards, remarks that you are too old to contest the elections!  Understandably Kerala’s CM is bristling with rage at still-in-diapers-Rahul Gandhi’s remark about his senility and has shot back, calling him an Amul Baby.   Is Achutananda taking his name a tad too seriously? But Shashi Tharoor, once famous for travelling cattle class in solidarity with Holy cows, has given a thumbs up, declaring Amul babies fit and strong.

I’ll raise a toast with my glass of Amul milk to that.  Did I hear a moo of approval from the holy cows? 

cartoonistsatish.blogspot.com