Give me your vote, not your clothes

The news that NGOs are fielding candidates in the forthcoming BMC elections has left many people in the city dismayed and depressed. The other day, I met with a friend of mine in Santacruz. In this article we will call him Sampat Bapat. He is clerk at the Mantralaya.

“The NGOs are just too much! Do you realize the consequence of this?” Bapat was angry. “Tomorrow, somebody would say that the Army is messing things up on the boarders and he buys a rifle from Chor Bazar and marches to Siachen.”

“See, you are stretching things too far. No body is going to the boarders.” I tried to reason with him.

“You don’t really understand the seriousness of this trend. Tomorrow your son might say that he wants to study mechanical engineering to work at a call center! What would you do?” He was furious.

Then Bapat revealed the reason for his ire. “This morning, I went with some clothes to my Dhoban who runs an ironing shop in the neighbourhood. She said, ‘Give me your vote, not your clothes!”

“Did she say that? She is some woman! Never mind, the good news is now crumpled clothes are back in fashion. So don’t worry.” I said.

“My problem will start if she wins the election or the fashion changes.” Bapat became pensive. “The NGOs should have thought of the repercussions before jumping into the fray.”

“I didn’t realize that things would go out of hand so early.” I said in sympathy.

“You have no idea how far it can go. The West Indies are already here, suppose during a match some nut from the stands runs into the grounds and snatches the ball from Harbhajan Singh and bawls an over or two to show that he is a better bowler. And God forbid, if he takes a wicket… ”

“That would seriously undermine Chappell’s position as a coach of the team.” I said.

“Now, you got the point! See, we need to leave jobs to the people who have experienced in messing them up. It would give a clear idea to people whose effigy they should burn…only politicians should fight elections; only professors should teach; only Kishan Mulchandani should party… If these candidates win the BMC elections and Mithi River is not completely cleaned up then who do we blame? The out of job politicians would laugh at us.” Bapat made his point.

“So what are you going to do about it?” I asked.

“If you can’t fight them, join them.” Bapat looked determined.

“What do you mean? Don’t tell me you are joining the Shiv Sena?”

“No, I am not joining any political parties. I am not a politician. I would take things in my own hands.” He gave me a crooked smile.

“Bapat, don’t do anything stupid. You have a family.” I pleaded.

“I am tired of traveling by the slow Boriveli bound trains. Tomorrow, I would get into the motorman’s cabin on a Virar fast and drive the train to get off at Santacruz.”

“And who would drive the train after you get off?”

“My friend Chandrakant. He lives in Jogeshwari.”

Vijay Kumar

Politics of ‘padayatra’

[+uc('‘Only dogs can influence others without reading a book’ vijay kumar')+]

The drama of the BJP and Shiv Sena in MP and Maharashtra has kept the people of India glued to the television. Even animals are affected; they can’t differentiate between Star News and Animal Planet. My dog Laddoo, a labrador, keeps staring at the TV with a vacant look even when the TV is off.

Yesterday, a friend of mine came to see me. He was carrying an umbrella and when he entered the house, Laddoo thought that it was a stick so he snatched it and shredded it.

It upset me so much that I scolded Laddoo and asked him to get out of the house.

After my friend left, my wife came to me, “What did you do to Laddoo? He is outside and refuses to come in.” “Do you see this mess on the floor? He tore my friend’s umbrella; the poor fellow was shocked like Natwar Singh, left alone to fend for himself.”

“You should be little sensitive with Laddoo. How would he feel if you scold him before a stranger? Sometimes you treat him like dog. Now, go and bring him in,” she said, going into the kitchen. Like in all households, in my house, too, my wife has the final word. So according to her request, I went outside to bring my dog back.

I found him sitting outside the gate. “Why are you sitting alone here like Babulal?” He said: “I am not sitting here. I am on a dharna. And what do you mean by Babulal? Gaur or Marandi?” “What’s the difference? Anyway, come in and eat your lunch. You can continue with your dharna in the house.” “No, I won’t. You scolded me for a China-made cheap chhata? Moreover, you only asked me to get out so I am here.” He sulked and turned his face away.

“Whether it was Chinese or Japanese, you have no business tearing it. Now, come inside the house.” “I am not coming in,” he firmly said.

“And even your seven-year-old son knows that Japanese don’t make chhatas. They make cars, cameras and computers.”

Laddoo will never miss an opportunity to show that he comes from an educated bloodline. “Please leave this bhashan aside and come inside. We can address your grievance over a cup of tea and dog-biscuits.” “Not unless you tender an unconditional apology for mistreating me and not giving me my rightful position in your household,” he said.

I was aghast, “Who is brainwashing you? Are you talking with Govindacharya and Sharad Pawar? Now, quietly come inside and don’t create a drama here. People are watching us.” “They are not just people. They are my supporters. One bark and they would start shouting slogans.” Laddoo stood up and stretched his body. “The one in white cap is from Congress, the one chewing paan is from RJD and the one wearing a lungi is from AIADMK. They are here to accept me into their parties in case you don’t accept my demands.”

Sometimes dogs can get on your nerves, without actually biting you. I sarcastically asked, “And which party you will join? AIADMK?” “No, I can’t. I do not know Tamil, also I do not know the full name of the party. I will consider all the offers and then decide.”

“Laddoo, we all need you. Without you the Kumars’ residence will not be the same. Can’t we just forgive and forget?” I asked. “You can forget that I will ever forgive you. I am not Advani. Mera faasla atal hai.” “Don’t try to speak Hindi if you can’t. It’s faisla and not faasla.” I reprimanded him; “You are making a non-issue into a national issue. If you want I will call Maneka Gandhi, you speak with her and lodge a complaint against me. But don’t politicise this trivial issue.”

“I have spoken with her. She said the Chinese use poor quality chemicals to dye the nylon used in their umbrellas and chewing it would affect the shine of my fur. Soon she will start a campaign asking for a ban on all Chinese umbrellas. But don’t sideline the topic. You will have to consider my demands.” He said.

“And what are your demands?” “I deserve to be the head of the Kumars’ residence. I have a better janadhar in your house than you have and they have voted me to sit in your chair.” “And who are your supporters, may I know?” It was hard to control my anger.

“You will see them soon when they come out and damage your car if my demands are not met.” “Laddoo, cut this rubbish and come inside now or else you will remain outside. I won’t let you in.” “I am already out and have come a long way.” He sighed, “I am going on a padayatra to mobilize support in the whole country. See, I already bought two pairs of Reebok shoes.”

“Why two pairs?” I asked. He almost killed me with his look. Laddoo continued, “You have unconstitutionally rebuked me and unceremoniously removed me from your house. I am the real Kumar. The public is with me.” Then he barked and all the people gathered on the footpath shouted, “Aage badho, Laddoo, hum tumhare saath hain.”

I realised that only dogs can win friends and influence people without actually reading a book. I was insulted right outside my own house so I said, “Laddoo, right now you are expelled from the Kumars’ residence and I am revoking your primary membership to this household.” “Very well, my supporters will physically reply to you within three days.” He said and took off his leather collar from his neck and put it on the ground.

“Laddoo, why are we fighting among ourselves and giving an opportunity to the opposition to laugh at us,” I tried to reason with him.

“No, my time in this household is over. I am going on my padayatra.” He said and started putting on his new Reebok shoes.

“Ok, it’s up to you.” I give up, “Go wherever you want but don’t go to Nagaland. The food culture might not be suitable for you.” “Thanks for your concern.” He said with a smirk on his face. “I will go to Ayodhya and Mumbai to meet with Uma Bharti and Raj Thackeray to see if three of us can form a new party.”

“Laddoo, like the people of this country, you, too, got it all wrong. Soon the VHP will intervene and Uma Bharti will return to the BJP. Raj will never disobey his uncle and chances are that he will become the Shiv Sena chief. I am worried that you will end up alone,” I said.

“If that happens, I will return to seek your forgiveness. Don’t throw away my collar,” added my former pet.

A happy new year to you too

APPALLED BY HIS MASTER’S INSINCERITY, LADDOO WONDERS WHAT DO HUMANS MEAN WHEN THEY SAY SOMETHING

Happy New Year,” my dog Laddoo, the Labrador greeted me. “Oh, thanks,” I said. Laddoo looked at me and said: “You don’t even know how to reply to a greeting.” “I didn’t know that I could wish a ‘Happy New Year’ to cats and dogs….I am sorry, I mean pets. I thought you follow the Chinese calendar? Is it your New Year too?" I asked. He stared at me for a long time and said: “No, we don’t celebrate the arrival of the New Year, we celebrate survival of the old year. But how can you be so uncivilised? When someone greets you, you should say ‘Happy New Year to you too’. Not like lazy people who say, ‘same to you’. It sounds like ‘tit for tat’.” “You are taking it too seriously. People say Happy New Year more out of habit than anything. Nobody really means it.” “What? You don’t really mean it when you wish your friends a Happy New Year?” “I mean, I do mean it but not the way you think. You are taking it literally,” I said. “Ok, tell me how should I take it?’ He mocked. “It’s like one of those things….like when we say to friends phir milenge that doesn’t mean the very next day we run to each other to meet. If we go on meaning what we say, life will be too complicated. The society will be in a permanent chaos.” “Then don’t wish Happy New Year or promise to meet again if you don’t intend to.” “People will think I am angry with them. It’s a cultural thing to do. It helps us to remain civilised,” I explained. “Even after living with you for so many years, I have not really understood you. Why do you say what you don’t mean and not say what you mean?” He asked. “Do you think it is easy? If people start speaking their mind, you will see friends fighting and tearing each other’s shirt on the streets. You see, educated people don’t behave like that.” “My grand father, may god bless his soul, used to tell me that education is not only about how to count but what counts.” Laddoo said. “Very true. Education also teaches you how to read between the lines,” I said wiping my glasses with my kurta. Laddoo looked at me and shook his head. I couldn’t make out if it was in despair, disbelief or disgust. He asked. “Ok, tell me, if you say Happy New Year to one of your relatives what would you mean?” “I would mean that, I hope this New Year you would stop gossiping behind my back and also not indulge in family politics.” “Then say it clearly, why beat around the bush?” he asked. “I can’t, Laddoo, even if I want to. The greeting card companies have not yet started printing such messages on their cards.” “But you can always write it down. There is enough space on the greeting cards.” “A hand writing will be too obvious, even politician don’t do that.” “How do the politicians greet? Do they go to each other’s house in helicopters and give greeting cards?” “They would love to do that but not many have helipads. They send greetings on their letter-heads.” “Do you think Shibu Soren will send New Year greetings to Sonia Gandhi?” Laddoo asked. “Yes. He will also send a greeting card to her on Sankranti and Sarhul but I don’t think he will get any reply. Soren forgets to put sufficient postage stamps on the envelope and Sonia Gandhi is tired of paying a fine every time she receives a card from him.” “How about Nitish Kumar? Do you think he will wish a happy New Year to Rabri Devi?” “I doubt it. He will wait to receive a card from her and then tell everyone that he doesn't have her address. 1, Anne Marg is a wrong home address for her,” I explained. “I am really surprised the way you people relate to each other. We are not like you,” Laddoo said. “When we bark, we bark and when we bite, we bite. Let me tell you this, my grand father, may god bless his soul, also used to say that, your yes should be yes and no, a no. Nothing more and nothing less.” “Laddoo, it will be good for you if don’t try to understand our lifestyle. You won’t. I am glad that you don’t have to send New Year greeting cards to anyone,” I said. Laddoo thought for a moment and said: “I thought it was a cultural thing to do so I gave a card to the Pomeranian living with the Mukherjees. But now after listening to you, I want to go to his house,” he got up. “But why? It’s impolite to go to your friends’ houses asking for a greeting card in return,” I said. “I am not like you who counts the number of friends you have by the number of greeting cards you receive,” He growled and added: “I want to tell him that I really mean what I wrote in the card. Every word of it.” “And what did you write?” “I wrote that ‘May your New Year be happy and safe if you don’t invade my territory and stop doing so much chamchagiri to your masters. It gives a bad name to all of us’.” Laddoo said and vanished out of the door.