Didi sharpens her weapons to conquer the Hindi belt (satire)

Didi has plans to boost her tribe and feels that she must explore other states for possible wins. Her slogans are aimed at touching the heart strings of the poor and downtrodden and, when she takes the stage, the words keep flowing out, as if by magic.
‘Yes,’ Moo Cool agreed in one of her meetings. ‘You are the new leader of the masses. You can become the No 1 in no time. Only – you must master the language.’
‘I also agree,’ Fear Had nodded. ‘You can converse in Hindi. You do speak in Hindi when visiting Burra Bazar – but, if you have to speak in Hindi nonstop for a long time, you might be handicapped.’
‘I feel you must get a good tutor,’ Dee Wreck said. ‘You still have some time before you embark on your Mission Lucknow and Mission Patna. A couple of hours every day in your chamber in Nabanna will do the trick.’

Didi listened to them and laughed.
‘Don’t underestimate me,’ she said. ‘I listen to the TV news channels and they speak in Hindi. It is the link language of our country. I am able to get my point across to the leaders in Delhi. I can give them back in their own coin.’
‘I know that you can,’ Dee Wreck went on. ‘But – at the grassroots level people love to listen to someone who talks in their lingo. So – my suggestion is that you go fully prepared. We don’t want you to be disappointed. We want our flag to fly high.’
Didi sighed.
‘Well – if all of you want it that way, so be it,’ she said. ‘I believe in the maxim – when in Rome, do as Romans do. I’ll talk like them, I’ll dress like them. I want them to strengthen my hands.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Moo Cool assured. ‘I will take care of all that. Only – it should not be like that Jantar Mantar episode when that old man let us down.’
‘Let us not dwell on the past,’ she said. ‘Let us look at the bright future. Akki Lace has agreed to sit on the dias with me.’
‘The recipe for success is Hindi is a little smattering of Urdu and Bhojpuri,’ Moo Cool said. ‘The land of Nawabs love the pehle-aap lines.’
‘And – the Biharis will be floored by Bhojpuri,’ Dee Wreck added. (to be continued ..)


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org


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Fuchka Festival in Kolkata and selfies (satire)

Didi was in top gear. She had won a battle and had returned land to the farmers. She had ousted an automobile manufacturing company from her land, had uprooted the buildings and had returned the land back to the farmers. It was a promise she had made and, she had fulfilled it.
‘I think this calls for a celebration,’ Patro Chatto said in a low voice. He had, of late, come closer to Didi and he loved to bask in her glory.
‘Let us arrange a festival,’ Didi said. ‘We have ilish festival and sandesh festival, let us organize another interesting festival that has universal appeal.’
‘We can go in for jhal muri festival,’ Dee Wreck suggested. ‘It is a unique product of Bengal and has taken London by storm. I have seen rave reviews in the social media. We can use the opportunity to woo the British to come to our city.’
‘That is a good idea,’ Fear Had said. ‘I know you also love jhal muri. The other day you were having jhal muri in front of Victoria Memorial with one of your guests and it became hot news. Just like the hot jhal muri.’ Didi gave Fear Had a hard look.
‘I have a better idea,’ Omit Misra cleared his throat. ‘It has a mass appeal because it is loved equally all over the country.’
‘What is it?’ Didi asked.

‘Fuchka,’ Omit Misra replied and wiped his glasses. ‘It is also known as the golguppa or pani puri. Whenever I get a chance, I have several mouthfuls.’
‘Not a bad idea,’ Didi was serious. ‘I’ll invite my friends from Delhi and Mumbai to set up stalls for variety.’ ‘What about the venue?’ Show Van asked.
‘The Milon Mela,’ Didi said. ‘That is where we hold all festivals.’
‘But – it is a huge area. Can it be filled?’
Didi grinned.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she chided him. ‘There will be stalls for selling fuchka and golguppas and pani puris. Then there will be a section on cookery where experts will come and talk about how to make fuchkas. And – there will be books on fuchkas. I will write one book of poems about fuchka. The possibilities are unlimited.’
‘When do we have this festival?’ Dee Wreck asked.
‘Get hold of the oldest fuchka man and his date of birth. That will be the date,’ Didi said. ‘He will probably be from Bihar. I will honor him on the occasion and my fans will increase. I will also declare a holiday on that date so that everyone can make a beeline for Milon Mela to enjoy fuchkas.’
‘There is one problem,’ Patro Chatto mumbled.
‘What?’ Didi asked.
‘Can you take selfie while gulping fuchkas?’ (to be continued …)


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org


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Didi plans new conquests via Rabindrasangeet (satire)

It was a new day and, while the world was abuzz with speculations, our Didi was calm as always. She knew the answers because she had drawn up strategies that can never fail. She did all the planning and left to her subordinates to give proper shape to the plans.
Moo Cool was with her as were members of the top notch team of Abhi Shake, Dee Wreck, Patro Chatto, Omit Misra, Fear Had, and Bruto Bose. Their eyes were glued on the huge TV set and, as the day progressed, there were sighs of relief - the results had been on expected lines.
‘Get ready for the second innings,’ Didi said as she reached for her phone. It was a congratulatory message from Delhi. ‘Where are the sweets?’ Abhi Shake asked no one in particular.

‘They will come on time,’ Moo Cool said and smiled.
‘Hope they will be suitable for me,’ Omit Misra mumbled. He was suffering from diabetes.
‘Don’t worry,’ Moo Cool assured him. ‘My boys know that. They’ll be here any minute. They are delayed because I have placed the orders only a few hours ago.’
‘But – the orders should have been sent last night,’ Abhi Shake said. ‘That is our tradition.’
‘This time the situation was different,’ Moo Cool said.
‘You mean you had doubts about our performance? You thought we’ll bite dust?’
Moo Cool did not bother to reply. The door opened and Arrah Bull entered with Money Rule - they had with them boxes of sweets. It was a day meant for celebrations and sweets were an integral part of that event. Of course, the sweets were specially prepare with the diabetics in mind.
Suddenly Didi spoke.
‘Dee Wreck, what message have you put up on our site?’
‘I have prepared a draft,’ he said. ‘Once you approve it, I’ll post it.’
‘Remember – our sights must now be on going national,’ Didi said. ‘Let us take our very own Bengali culture to very home in the country.'
‘You mean our variety of unique foods?’
‘Foods and songs.’
‘Songs?’
‘Yes – Rabindrasangeet. Since Hindi is the language of the masses, I want to spread Rabindrasangeet to the villages of Bihar, UP, MP. We want penetration and songs will be the medium. Once they get addicted to those songs, we’ll have them eating from our hands. I want to rope in singers who will deliver the goods.’
‘But we do not have such singers,’ Patro Chatto said.
‘Search and you will find them,’ Didi said. ‘TV reality shows throw up fantastic talents. That could be the starting point. I want Rabindrasangeet to be played at every street crossing. It was a hit in Kolkata, I want it to be a hit in Patna, Lucknow and other cities as well.’
‘I’ll put Arrah Bull and Money Rule on the job,’ Moo Cool said. ‘They have mastered the art of convincing people.’ (to be continued …)


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Didi discusses industries with Moo Cool and Omit Misra (satire)

Critics may talk ill of her but Didi knows that she is unstoppable – she has swept aside all opposition and over the last four years, she has woven a web of magic. She has promised her people the Moon and believes that it is within her grasp.
She was closeted in her humble house with a few of her trusted lieutenants like Dee Wreck, Omit Misra, Show Van, Fear Had, and Moo Cool and was trying to evolve new strategies for the future.
‘We must ensure that we project our positives in the industrial sector,’ she said.
‘Agreed,’ Omit Mitra wiped his glasses. ‘We have held several get-togethers with industrialists. They were happy with our arrangements. Especially the sweet dishes – they loved the tastes.’
‘What sort of business potential can we expect?’ Didi asked.

‘Well – it could run into crores,’ Omit Misra replied. ‘But – there could be a hitch.’
‘What sort of?’
‘It is the health aspect,’ Omit said. ‘The days of people gorging on dozens of rasogollas have gone with the wind – winds of change.’
‘I see,’ Didi was serious. ‘What about the pickle industry?’
‘That is OK – but the competition is stiff,’ Omit admitted. ‘Pickles from North India have already captured a major portion of the market.’
‘Then our cottage industries like mat making and hand fans.’
‘Today those are out of fashion, it is now the age of carpets and air conditioners.’
Didi now looked at the others.
‘We must promote our industries,’ Didi was serious. ‘We already have Gourav Danguli working on it through TV – let us organize some more industry fairs.’
Her lieutenants looked at each other – they dared not speak up in front of Didi. They knew that the trips to Singapore and London did not prove to be up to expectations. Neither did the local exhibitions and fairs.
‘Don’t you have any new ideas?’ Didi prodded them.
‘I am writing a book on how to play the game of politics,’ Moo Cool said. ‘If Dee Wreck can market it properly, it would rake in crores of rupees like paintings.’
‘What all have you revealed?’ Didi was curious.
‘It is all about how to keep everyone guessing,’ Moo Cool smiled. ‘It is full of tension, emotion, intrigue, and suspense – there are thrills galore and the ending is a surprise.’
‘And – what is the name of your book?’
‘‘Double G – the Guessing Game’,’ Moo Cool gave his patent smile. (to be continued …)

(Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org)

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