International financiers after Didi’s secrets (satire)

Patro Chatto was at the airport – Didi had entrusted him with the task of receiving the international guests at Dum Dum airport. International flights do not come to the city. Therefore, the guests had alighted at Delhi and, the ever faithful Moo Cool was arranging to send them from Delhi to Kolkata by domestic flights.
The guests had come to put Didi under the lens and find out how she managed to finance so many projects of social relevance even though her coffers were empty. At least that is what she keeps saying at every forum.
Suddenly Patro’s mobile phone rang. It was Abhi Shake at the other end.
‘How many more are you sending?’ he asked Patro.
Patro did not like the tone of his voice – it reeked of authority and power. And, Patro was helpless. He had to swallow his pride and maintain a cordial relation on the surface because Abhi was Didi’s relative.
‘I have already dispatched six of the delegates. All the vehicles have gone and I am waiting for the next batch of vehicles. I still have six more guests.’

‘Keep them busy, I’ll send back the vehicles. But – it may take some time.’
‘How do I keep the guests waiting?’ Patro asked.
‘Take them to the restaurant.’
‘It does not serve continental dishes.’
‘Then let then enjoy or very own fast foods like beguni and telebhaja. They can even taste the nalen gurer rasogolla for a change. They’ll love the food items. And - who knows, one of them might even agree to import our delicacies.’
‘OK – I’ll do that. But – why would the vehicles get delayed?’
‘The bypass road is under repair.’
Anyway, by evening, the guests gathered in one of the posh hotels. Didi was there, beaming at each of the guests. She had modified the conference hall and garlanded each of the delegates. She also gave each of them a memento to carry back home.
‘Shoot,’ she finally said after all formalities was over.
‘I want to know your secret of making something out of nothing. You say that you have inherited empty coffers. How then can you spend so much money on cycles, sarees, scholarships, books, shoes etcetera.’
‘Do you know Black Magic?’ another delegate asked.
‘Or – sleight of hand?’ the third delegate asked.
Didi looked at Omit Misra, her man of finance. He stood up, wiped his glasses, gave a smile and nodded to the guests. ‘We have a person named Gouri Sen,’ he explained. ‘He is our financier. He has loads of money at his disposal and never runs short of cash.’
‘But – there were rumors that there was another Sen …’
Didi cut him short.
‘Gentlemen,’ she gave the audience her tired smile. ‘Dinner is ready. Let us break for dinner. We can continue our talks as we bite into real Bengali cuisine. For dessert, there is mishti doi’ (to be contd …)


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

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