Location: Darjeeling, India

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Congratulations Mr. G

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Hearty congratulations for bringing us home the Sixth Schedule (at least in theory). You truly are a remarkable man. Now that we are all tribals, guaranteed by the Constitution (almost), all our troubles are over. We need not worry over trivial issues like ‘how to earn our daily bread’ but should rather be concerned about where to get our tongbas from. Isn’t that right? You gave a great speech by the way.

You have called for celebrations on this momentous occasion. We should make merry indeed. You want us to celebrate like a true tribal in drunken revelry. You are damn right. What better way than to become bhanghes. You are a genius I tell you - and you really know how to throw a party. Woohoo! Since we are to shed all inhibitions, I think we should start shedding our clothes too in the spirit of tribal brotherhood. Isn’t that a good idea? Imagine a whole town of bare-naked bhange men and skimpily clad bhange women all engaging in intense orgy. Our petite belles have already learnt how to expose their navel and butt-cleavage so implementing the above should be a breeze. When are you going to discard your suit and boot? We would love to see you in a loin cloth and cap. No compulsions here. You can take your time.

You also have warned the police from hauling in drunkards. They are a nuisance, aren’t they? The police I mean. They undoubtedly are not required in a tribal society. An unquestionable judgement on your part. They should all be transferred to the plains to cater to the erudite madesis. I also appreciate your remedy to tackle drunkenness. What better way than to dip a bhanghe in the River Teesta. A truly ingenious solution I say. I however feel this is unnecessary because most of our bhanghes will voluntarily immerse themselves in the municipal culverts that have seldom been cleaned since 1988.

You are of the opinion that we should give up modern medicine and resort to shamanism. Why not? Afterall doctors are all insatiable thugs preying on innocent people. Besides we have no dearth of world-class shamans but we do lack proper hospitals.

It is also true that the ubiquitous Shaishala Bomboo is the answer to all our troubles. It is a beautiful song and it is as significant to us as Amazing Grace is to Americans. Everyone should learn it. I am not a singer but at your behest I have already begun practice in earnest. Don’t be surprised if I come up with a hardrock version of the song. There is a small glitch tough. I do not know the verses of the song, so please do not mind if I only lip-sync.

I remember two or three years ago that your goodness had organized a shaman gathering in Chowrasta. I was among the crowd watching the raving shivers of a female shaman. The woman was shaking violently in a trance. There were rumours that you had called a competition among the shamans and the shaman who vibrated the most would reap rich rewards. The throng viewed entranced at this woman’'s antics. You were there too watching down from the podium. Remember? In my view, this woman was certainly the winner judging by the way she twisted and contorted her body all the while blurting gibberish. It was also fascinating to see her rub her hands all over her body and squeeze her breasts. I don’t know what had possessed her but it sure must have been a poltergeist. Did she win? I really don’t know how much money she bagged but what she really required was a wholesome gangbang. Good show!

Even as I write this piece, I constantly have to shift my seating position. I suffer from chronic haemorrhoids, you see. I will consult a renowned shaman (a haemorrhoid specialist) of Bijanbari the first thing tomorrow morning. I am eager to have my debilitating condition danced away.

You have also promised tongbas for all and sundry. It is a good step. I for one was dying for a drink. So you want us to offer two bottles of tongba to the Lord Jagadamba? For you Mr. G, I will go a step further. I will offer two to Lord Jagadamba, three to Lord Mocambo, two to Lord Chamunda and if you insist, one to Tarzan the ape-man. Each according to merit. They should be pleased.

Lately, your loyal supporters are of the opinion that a certain Mr. T is a chor. Once again, I totally agree. Someone who furtively smuggles endangered plants out of the region has to be a chor. Have you seen his pictures in the papers? All the dailies seem to share the one and only picture. What a silly grin he has. He most definitely is a bhange, which further drives home the above point.

Your idea of stifling the free press is commendable. They are a bunch of no-gooders. The present lot are talentless swindlers and always are on the lookout for cheap news. They never have a word of praise for you which is deplorable.

My dear Mr. G, you are our saviour who delivered us from complacency and the exploitation of the Commies. Now that we are Sixth Scheduled tribals living by our Sixth Sense, perhaps they will finally leave us alone. All this wouldn’t have happened without you.

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