Friday 31 October 2014
Monday 20 October 2014
Wednesday 8 October 2014
Jasoos Kutty tames an Indian-American Modi fan
I am a troubled man ever since our Prime Minister announced the Clean India campaign. You know and I know nobody gives a hoot. It is like the global economy: 99 per cent vs 1 per cent. The problem is my super-efficient secretary Sara. She is one of the 1 per cent. Sara has taken PM Modi's initiative very seriously. The other person to do so is Shri Shashi Tharoor.
So today when I walk into my residence-cum-office, what do I see? A sofa in one end of the room, the television right opposite to it, a teapoy in between, the showcase with all the awards I have won in one corner, the telephone on the stand, the money plant, fresh flowers in the vase, no dust on the floor, no cockroaches, no lizards. Everything picture-perfect, too perfect to my liking. A detective finds chaos in order and order in chaos.
There is another reason why I am angry. I am in the middle of a murder case. No ordinary murder this. It actually followed a multimillion dollar scam. To crack this murder, I have to crack the scam first. To crack the scam, I have to crack the money trail first. To crack the money trail, I have to crack the paper trail first.
See, it is already very confusing. And when things get tough, the tough smoke hash. But to smoke it, you need to get the hash first. And I did not find it where I had placed it. Where did I find it? In a jar in the bar, right next to my whiskeys and vodkas, neatly labeled 'Manali - for recreational purposes'. But that was only half my stash. The rest I found in my crime lab, labeled 'Manali - for experimental purposes'. Right next to it, I found Idukki, Kashmir, LSD, C17H21NO4, Pan Parag, Navy Cut, all neatly packed and labeled. A little while later, I found a pack of condoms wrapped under my pillow. This one however didn't say what it was for. Very thoughtful of Sara.
We detectives have a habit of pinning notes on the board. Suspect X on the left top corner, his brother to the right top corner, the brother's driver in the middle, X's mistress below the driver. To the average eye, it would appear the woman is Suspect X's brother's driver's mistress because their photos are pinned together. But the learned eye gets the message. We are used to this language of cross connections.
Sara, in her eagerness to clean India, had cleaned up my evidence board too. She placed all the notes logically and alphabetically. Suspect X who was in some corner earlier was now right in the middle.
"Kutty, did you see I have cleaned up your house," said Sara, bringing in the newspapers.
"The PM asked you to clean the country, not Kutty's home," I said, throwing the newspapers on the floor. Each one flew to a different corner.
Sara, however was her sunder-susheel self, she collected newspapers and placed them on my teapoy.
"Why are you not angry?"
"No, why should I be? Do you know what Gandhiji said?"
"I think he said we should clean our toilets."
"He said that too. But mainly he preached non-violence."
"Oh, the someone-slaps-you-show-the-other-cheek stuff."
"Yes. You throw the newspapers, I will collect them."
"I will throw them again."
"Then I will collect them again."
"Sara, if you don't mend you ways, I will do what the Congress is doing to Tharoor," I changed tack.
"What did the Congress do?"
"They made Tharoor see reason. Now he makes only conditions-apply tweets."
"I am not getting you."
"For example he will now onwards say: 'Modi your clean-up drive is noble, but first you have to clean your own soul.'"
"Oh ok. You mean if he has to say something about the jalebi at Chandni Chowk, he will say, 'The Jalebiwallah's jalebis are delicious, but they have to be had after Kareem's mutton stew' "
"That would be too simplistic, but something similar. 'Modi got a hero's welcome from NRIs in the US, but Manmohanji got a nuclear deal from Obama'."
"Enough of your jokes, Kutty. Give us five years. We will make a Shanghai of Delhi."
"By Shanghai, you mean what? You will rename Delhi as Shanghai."
"Appearance you fool. Bullet train, expressways, super expressways, flyovers, bigger airports, clean streets, toilets in every house…"
"All I am interested in knowing is, will we get chicken Manchurian and gobi Manchurian in our ration shops."
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"Now, who the hell is that Sara?"
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"Kutty I forgot to tell you. A gift from New York."
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"Who would gift me a tape recorder that plays the Modi RaGa on a loop?"
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"The Indian-American you helped. You know, the one who was wrongly arrested in a murder case and you helped him prove his innocence."
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"But why would he give me a tape recorder?"
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"It is not a tape recorder fool, it is a parrot. And you can't switch it off."
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"Don't these Indian-Americans spare their parrots even? Thathamme, poocha, poocha."
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"You can't fool parrots with your thathamme poocha, poocha. The cats don't scare them anymore."
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"Is it a challenge? What if I can switch it off?"
"Without strangling it! Yes, it is a challenge. If you win, no clean India drive in your office."
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"Kutty, you are going to lose… this parrot is well-trained."
I went to my lab, took out the Manali kept for experimental purposes, stuffed it in a red chilli and made our parrot of American origin smoke it for full five minutes.
After the hookah session, the parrot cleared its throat and started again.
"Kutty, Kutty, Kutty, Kutty… Kutty, Kutty, Kutty, Kutty."
So today when I walk into my residence-cum-office, what do I see? A sofa in one end of the room, the television right opposite to it, a teapoy in between, the showcase with all the awards I have won in one corner, the telephone on the stand, the money plant, fresh flowers in the vase, no dust on the floor, no cockroaches, no lizards. Everything picture-perfect, too perfect to my liking. A detective finds chaos in order and order in chaos.
There is another reason why I am angry. I am in the middle of a murder case. No ordinary murder this. It actually followed a multimillion dollar scam. To crack this murder, I have to crack the scam first. To crack the scam, I have to crack the money trail first. To crack the money trail, I have to crack the paper trail first.
See, it is already very confusing. And when things get tough, the tough smoke hash. But to smoke it, you need to get the hash first. And I did not find it where I had placed it. Where did I find it? In a jar in the bar, right next to my whiskeys and vodkas, neatly labeled 'Manali - for recreational purposes'. But that was only half my stash. The rest I found in my crime lab, labeled 'Manali - for experimental purposes'. Right next to it, I found Idukki, Kashmir, LSD, C17H21NO4, Pan Parag, Navy Cut, all neatly packed and labeled. A little while later, I found a pack of condoms wrapped under my pillow. This one however didn't say what it was for. Very thoughtful of Sara.
We detectives have a habit of pinning notes on the board. Suspect X on the left top corner, his brother to the right top corner, the brother's driver in the middle, X's mistress below the driver. To the average eye, it would appear the woman is Suspect X's brother's driver's mistress because their photos are pinned together. But the learned eye gets the message. We are used to this language of cross connections.
Sara, in her eagerness to clean India, had cleaned up my evidence board too. She placed all the notes logically and alphabetically. Suspect X who was in some corner earlier was now right in the middle.
"Kutty, did you see I have cleaned up your house," said Sara, bringing in the newspapers.
"The PM asked you to clean the country, not Kutty's home," I said, throwing the newspapers on the floor. Each one flew to a different corner.
Sara, however was her sunder-susheel self, she collected newspapers and placed them on my teapoy.
"Why are you not angry?"
"No, why should I be? Do you know what Gandhiji said?"
"I think he said we should clean our toilets."
"He said that too. But mainly he preached non-violence."
"Oh, the someone-slaps-you-show-the-other-cheek stuff."
"Yes. You throw the newspapers, I will collect them."
"I will throw them again."
"Then I will collect them again."
"Sara, if you don't mend you ways, I will do what the Congress is doing to Tharoor," I changed tack.
"What did the Congress do?"
"They made Tharoor see reason. Now he makes only conditions-apply tweets."
"I am not getting you."
"For example he will now onwards say: 'Modi your clean-up drive is noble, but first you have to clean your own soul.'"
"Oh ok. You mean if he has to say something about the jalebi at Chandni Chowk, he will say, 'The Jalebiwallah's jalebis are delicious, but they have to be had after Kareem's mutton stew' "
"That would be too simplistic, but something similar. 'Modi got a hero's welcome from NRIs in the US, but Manmohanji got a nuclear deal from Obama'."
"Enough of your jokes, Kutty. Give us five years. We will make a Shanghai of Delhi."
"By Shanghai, you mean what? You will rename Delhi as Shanghai."
"Appearance you fool. Bullet train, expressways, super expressways, flyovers, bigger airports, clean streets, toilets in every house…"
"All I am interested in knowing is, will we get chicken Manchurian and gobi Manchurian in our ration shops."
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"Now, who the hell is that Sara?"
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"Kutty I forgot to tell you. A gift from New York."
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"Who would gift me a tape recorder that plays the Modi RaGa on a loop?"
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"The Indian-American you helped. You know, the one who was wrongly arrested in a murder case and you helped him prove his innocence."
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"But why would he give me a tape recorder?"
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"It is not a tape recorder fool, it is a parrot. And you can't switch it off."
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"Don't these Indian-Americans spare their parrots even? Thathamme, poocha, poocha."
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"You can't fool parrots with your thathamme poocha, poocha. The cats don't scare them anymore."
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"Is it a challenge? What if I can switch it off?"
"Without strangling it! Yes, it is a challenge. If you win, no clean India drive in your office."
"Modi, Modi, Modi, Modi…"
"Kutty, you are going to lose… this parrot is well-trained."
I went to my lab, took out the Manali kept for experimental purposes, stuffed it in a red chilli and made our parrot of American origin smoke it for full five minutes.
After the hookah session, the parrot cleared its throat and started again.
"Kutty, Kutty, Kutty, Kutty… Kutty, Kutty, Kutty, Kutty."
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