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| Moneyman Sing On Cloud Nine |
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 Meanwhile, up on cloud nine, it was a rather quiet morning. God was pottering about in his laboratory concocting something new when he heard footsteps approaching. They belonged to Moneyman Sing, erstwhile moneybags in King Peevee’s court and presently the uncrowned king of Chaostan (the crown was appropriated by the empress of Janpath just before the coronation, but that’s another story).“Ah… from the land of chaos… comes the king without a crown,” god welcomed in all seriousness. “And what’s that new thing on your face? Is that a smile?” Moneyman beamed and said, “Milord, I recently completed one year of clinging on to my throne.” “And you gave yourself six out of ten marks,” god was suddenly very angry. “Six out of ten when millions upon millions don’t know to read or write, don’t have anything to eat or drink, don’t have anyplace to sit or sleep. Six out of ten when…” “No, no, bhagwan, please understand,” Moneyman clasped his hands and was quickly down on bended knees to plead his case. “I wanted to give myself three out of ten… I’m an honest man as you well know, dear lord, but everyone else wanted hundred out of ten. I tried explaining… god, how I tried… but nobody understood mathematics. All they understood was sycophantics, which is something I can never understand. In the end they agreed to six out of ten, but only after I’d torn up my appointment letter, put in my resignation papers, and packed my bags for the Himalayas.” “Must be tough being a king without a crown,” god made the understatement of the morning. “Four more years…” Moneyman shuddered involuntarily. “So how are things?” “Very bad, dear lord, very bad. Everyone in court pushes me around, but that’s nothing new… then there are those commies who want to go backwards while I want to go forwards, then there’s Badvani who talks to me through the press and calls me names, then there’s that general from Borderstan who desperately wants a peace treaty before he gets assassinated, and then there are all those fools who…” “What about your court jester, the one with the finger in the fodder?” “Yes, I was coming to him,” Moneyman said dryly. “In fact, he’s the reason I’m here.” “He’s a real slippery fellow,” the lord said, shaking his head. “He was here the other night, soon after that train accident, trying to blame me for it as usual, when everyone knows it was clearly the devil’s handiwork. I gave him another lecture on technology and kicked him out, in the general direction of the devil’s kitchen.” “Ooooh, but I can’t kick him out,” Moneyman almost wailed as he stood up hesitantly. “In fact, he keeps threatening to kick me out of my court every time I ask him to stop acting like a court jester and start behaving like a mantri. Hey bhagwan! he’s the sole reason I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in a year.” “What does he want now?” god asked. “I thought you gave him everything you could.” “I did, oh lord, I did,” Moneyman said, wringing his hands. “And everything was fine for a while, you know, him in Dilli playing with trains and his wife in Patliputra playing with fire… but recently she got badly burnt...” “You can’t fool all the people all the time,” god shook his head. “Try telling that to them, milord,” Moneyman almost got angry. “Anyway, he wants her on the Patliputra throne once again. Says it’s a matter of life and death. His death.” “How’s that?” god wanted to know. “Apparently the wife has forgotten all about being a housewife. And she’s got a massive withdrawal problem as well. All she does all day and half the night is scribble her signature wherever she can. On paper, on walls, or just plain air. With pen, red brick or just her finger. She does nothing else, milord. She can’t even roll a decent chappati anymore!” “Hmm… so he wants her out of the kitchen and back on the throne,” god guessed right. “He says he’s lost eight kilos in three months,” Moneyman whispered. “What happened to kingmaker Fusswan,” god suddenly remembered. “Wasn’t he supposed to…?” Moneyman shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, he fussed and fussed and fussed… and his supporters ran away with his clothes…” “I see…” “…and they ran all the way to Badvani, milord, Badvani who is at this very moment plotting and plotting to grab the…” “Yes, yes, I can figure out the rest,” god put up his hand wearily. “I’m afraid you’ll have to go back to the people, there’s simply no other way. I’m tired of getting involved in Chaostan intrigues.” “But… dear god,” Moneyman began meekly, “she’ll get wiped out and he’ll make life miserable for me in Dilli. In any case it’ll take six months… and by then he would’ve lost so many kilos he would’ve become lean, mean and very hungry. A fat court jester is one thing, a hungry shark quite another.” “It’s a chance you’ll have to take,” god said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Moneyman bowed and made his exit, slowly shaking his head from side to side, the Himalayas once again on his mind. Stargazer RECENTLY ON JAAL'S CALUMNY COLUMN: The Beastly List Brand Bollywood 10 Game Shows For India Musharraf's 10 Promises To Bush Anushakthi Amma Queen Sonia, The First SAARCasm UN-American New York, Old Delhi The Worm Turns A Prophecy Belied Feet Feat Saddam, Here We Come (Again) Season's Gratings Osama In Bollywood Sab Maya Hai If The Taliban Win... Vox Judicutura! Wanted: A Governor Gift Cow Et Al Diaspora Disgust Chitti Chitti Bong Bong Off Course Pol Poll: Are You A Neta Wannabe? The Raj Strikes Back The EMail Of The Species Kandahar Ka Kaana Raja The World Is Not Enough Back To Squire One Poll Gita Where There's A Bill, There's A Wait DotComs, By The Numbers GoI-ing After Veerappan The Bore-Gush Race Hack Attack! Eee! 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