Essence Of Political Anatomy
India That Is Bharat
Thou too, Brutus? Satiricus feels outraged. He could understand—though not stand—Advani calling the government spineless. After all, he knows that the BJP boors are uncultured enough to call a spade a spade instead of decorously describing it as an instrument to dig with. But imagine the J&K Chief Minister Omar Abdullah saying it was good to see the Government of India firmly standing up apropos the recent Dalai Lama function—but then asking, how about some more spine while dealing with China?
Spine? A government of India with a spine? The very idea is so weird that Satiricus is stunned. It is unthinkable, unbelievable, unpardonable audacity. How dare anyone ask a mouse to become a cat? And speaking of cats, how on earth can anyone expect the Indian cat to do anything but mew every time the Chinese tiger growls? Anyway, it is clear to Satiricus that this Chief Minister is not only being unreasonable, he is even ignorant of the simple, central fact of political anatomy: It is that only those who want to stand up need a spine; for those who want only to crawl, a spine is an unnecessary appendage of the body politic.
Making No Mistake
In this age of instant everything, beginning with instant coffee, Satiricus was not greatly taken aback to read in the papers some time back that there is also such a thing as an instant doctorate. It was reported that ready-made Ph.D. theses on various subjects are secretly on sale in the US of A. Just buy one, submit it, and get your Ph.D. Whether that Ph.D. of the buyer becomes a fake Ph.D. Satiricus does not know, as Satiricus does not have even a fake Ph.D.
Anyway, if there can be fake Ph.D.s in America, why can’t they be there in Russia ? So Satiricus was less than surprised to learn some time back that an eminent Russian scientist holding prominent positions in two scientific institutions was actually a school dropout with a fake Ph.D.—And this came to light full two years later. How? Not because his ignorance was exposed, but he was caught stealing money. The question was, how could the fellow hide his fakery as a scientist for full two years? According to a Russian newspaper, the answer was astonishingly simple—the man did almost no work during that time, so he made no mistake. See? The easiest way to make no mistake in work is to do no work.
Anyway, when Marx gave the call “workers of the world, unite”, the Russians were the first to do so. But it seems the call was meant for working workers, not for those who did no work—and so made no mistake.
It is a matter of serious concern for Satiricus that these days everybody is out to put an end to India’s celebrated status as one of the world’s most corrupt countries—everybody from Anna Hazare’s civil society to the uncivil society of Prime Minister Singh and prime mover Sonia. Corruption has become a hot topic of debate in Parliament, and Parliamentarians want to talk it out of existence. All in all, the prospects for corruption certainly look grave. Fortunately, however, all is not lost. For it has been found that if charity begins at home, corruption begins at (Parliament) House. Some time back it was reported in the papers that the curd supplied to the Parliament House canteen by a government milk scheme was found to be mixed with blotting paper. Well, now, what do you know? Satiricus knows that curd is good food, so he thinks this official curd-blotting-paper blend should be good food for thought for our MPs.
However, looking at it from another angle, is not the parliamentary milkman indulging in unparliamentary wastage of blotting paper? Will such misuse of this valuable foreign policy instrument not greatly inconvenience our wholesale export of protest notes to Pakistan and China every other day? Not that such protests have to be written out every time. Satiricus is sure there must be a whole godown stocking printed protest forms. Still even just signing them would need a whole lot of blotting-paper to neatly blot the signatures, no?
Then again, it was reported that in general blotting paper is used for making “super-smooth” ice-cream, a great favourite of children from six to sixty. Then should the government deny them this high-quality product by diverting it to parliamentary palates? So the Parliamentarians of today must refrain from this edible corruption, however tasty. They must reserve it for the Parliamentarians of tomorrow.