MYSTERY OF MISSING VIPS
Last month Russia’s President Vladimir Putin, Congress Vice-President Rahul Gandhi and Delhi Chief Minister Arvind Kejriwal were missing in action. And there was certainly a lot of action going around in the world, in India’s Parliament and Delhi, in particular, with vicious sting operations that made AAP volunteers yelp
But then, Putin is a mystery wrapped in an enigma ensconced in a Matryoshka doll. Where he went and what he did we will, in all likelihood, never know. Wrestling Siberian tigers or some such fantastic feat may be put out by his PR agency.
The Case of the Missing Rahul Gandhi may never be solved too. He is a mystery, dusted in Johnson’s Baby Powder, wrapped in bubble wrap and tied with a pretty satin bow. We will get different versions of where he went and what he did but only Super Snooper Amit Shah (apart from Rahul and his family) will probably know the absolute truth.
All we are aware of (so far) is that the BJP sent cops to his house to get his shoe size. Hmm. They’re pretty capable of getting their Chief Wacko Conspiracy Theorist, Subramanian Swamy, to claim that Rahul’s footprints match the Yeti’s which is irrefutable proof that (a) Rahul is a terrible monster (b) the Yeti is Indian. Those with a charitable bent of mind may claim that the BJP only wanted Rahul’s shoe size because the Dear Leader wanted to give him an expensive pair of Italian shoes as a welcome home present. If this is indeed true, I urge Rahul not to accept it because the Dear Leader has strange taste in clothes—and, I suspect, accessories too.Yes, yes, I know he told his biographer, Lance Price, that his fashion sense is a gift from God but I have this strong feeling that God will punish him severely for that statement someday.Nobody, not even God, enjoys being accused of being loud and flashy.
Kejriwal, on the other hand, is an open book with many colour plates of him doing heartwarming, humble things. We are aware that he went to Bengaluru’s Jindal Farm and did a lot of yoga there (not in fancy lycra but in humble, crumpled cotton kurta pyjamas, please note). There are many colour plates of this activity too, including him blowing his nose rather violently for Jal Neti. I read somewhere that Kejriwal was so refreshed and rejuvenated after his outing at Jindal Farm that he’s thinking of opening a naturopathy centre in Delhi. Ah, the joys of being chief minister —you can buy your own toys and serve the public too. Personally, I think it’s an excellent idea—that way he won’t have to go through that embarrassing toll tax drama in Bengaluru again and have news anchors fulminating over the fact that he flew business class and other inconsequential rubbish.
The Dear Leader was missing for a few days too: he was on a tour of neighbouring countries and he told them wonderful stories from Chandamama (a popular Indian monthly magazine for children) about Chanda Mama aka Uncle Moon. As a result of which our neighbours probably think he’s going through his second childhood and I’m guessing they gave him lollipops and other sweeties (in his bestest colour, orange) as farewell presents. The lucky man gets to keep them because they probably cost less than five grand and therefore are not required to go into the large toshakhana maintained by the Ministry of External Affairs. By the way, I’m relieved to note that this time the Dear Leader did not wear his name on his clothes while fraternising with world leaders and probably handed out business cards instead. I do appreciate the fact that he’s finally learning restraint.