Once upon a time, in a land far away there lived a monk. This monk was greatly revered in this land
Once upon a time, in a land far away there lived a monk. This monk was greatly revered in this land. He came from a sect that believed in the renouncing of all worldly belongings, including clothes.
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One day, the monk was invited by a wise man of this land to come and address a Legislative Assembly. The monk agreed and stood on the dais and spoke passionately to this august gathering. Among other things, he spoke about the role of husbands and how they must discipline their wives. All the women in the Assembly were seeing running out of the room screaming in a state of semi shock.
Illustration/Uday Mohite
The reason? The monk’s views on female foeticide and his frontal view.
That same day there appeared on the horizon a musician with strong political opinions — you could say he was a cross between Tansen and Birbal. The musician spoke freely of what he thought of the monk’s sartorial sense and his speech. #Forget Acche Din, here’s #NoKaccheDin, was his response on a new rant platform called Twitter.
It was a witty tweet, but in the Land of No Laughter the musician soon discovered that free expression had a price. A moronic mob known as the ‘Troll Brigade’ complained of ‘hurting religious sentiments’ even though the kind monk had forgiven the musician. But, this was a land where anonymous cowards were looking for their two minutes of fame and desperate recognition.
In another part of this land, known as ‘Talk Without Thinking, Then Back Track’, another wise man announced that female tourists to this land should refrain from wearing short skirts and other skimpy clothing. Also, they should not go out alone at night.
This was no ordinary wise man. This was a man whose task it was to tempt foreigners with the treasures of the land. To convince fair-skinned lady tourists that this was a land where there was nothing to fear. Overnight the Land of Seven Rivers became The Land of Seven Thousand Cancelled Visas, and that was just the chartered groups from France.
The wise man tried to justify his words.
“It’s not what I meant,” he bleated, adding, “I was referring merely to them covering their bodies in places of worship.”
But, it was too late as he saw his status as Union Minister plummet to Unemployed Minister.
A wise woman suggested why not ‘cover up’ these foreign ladies in burkinis, so they may sunbathe and supplicate in the same garb.
Simultaneously, in another part of the land, a private army took the warning of ‘covering up’ quite seriously — this was an army whose uniform was white shirts and billowing shorts. This private army had three regiments:
1. The Thunder Thighs
2. Knights of the cellulite
3. The Varicose Veins
Overnight their shorts lengthened to ‘long pants’.
All this occurred in one tumultuous week in this land.
In addition to seismic sartorial tremors, a nun was canonised and 4G was launched by the supreme leader of this land.
And so it came to pass that he was no more referred to as Modi ji. He was now Modi-jio.
Rahul da Cunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahuldacunha62@gmail.com
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