The tribunal set up to settle the Cauvery water dispute has reached its verdict and predictably some factions believe they've got a raw deal. Of course, our erudite citizens have the right to be contemptuous of judicial verdicts and the surest way to lengthen any issue of contention is to do some mischief until your grievances are addressed and your antagonist is made to pay the price. It's a vicious cycle and we've somehow learnt to expect mischief each time a protracted dispute comes to its no-one-wins verdict.
It just so happens that Karnataka was at the receiving end of the verdict this time and its share of the prized Cauvery water has been reduced in favor of Tamil Nadu. I don't have the semblance of an idea how jubilant the farmers of our neighboring state are, but Kannadigas are a shell-shocked lot. Going by past records when violence had claimed many lives, people took no chances. Shops downed their shutters as soon as the verdict was delivered, schools and colleges closed for the day and even some IT companies decided to call it a day at around noon.
We left our office premises at the usual hour and I was taken aback to discover that my shuttle was almost full. Had to take a cabin seat and though it was uncomfortable, clear visibility of the road ahead was my reward. Traffic had thinned considerably and jams were nonexistent. A fellow traveller said something about how soon we were would be reaching home, to which I replied,"Yeah, yeah! And just because of water!"
We set an all-time-record. I reached home at 1850 hrs. Even daylight hadn't completed faded by then! On reaching home, I let loose my Calvin-styled imagination power. Aiding me on my portable music player was a beautiful song sung by a Pakistani guy. Now it's difficult to articulate fantasies, especially the fantastic ones...but let me try.
I imagines I was singing the song into the hearts of Pakistanis. They're cheering me, they're crazy about me. The feeling is mutual. I have a Pakistani babe for a wide. She is doe-eyes and auburn haired. I work diligently to bring the masses of India and Pakistan closer. In fact, I spend a lifetime doing just this. I win the Nobel Peace Prize for my efforts, but not before winning the Nobel Prize for Literature years ago! I've won so many Bookers that I've had to adhere to a self-imposed moratorium against being nominated so that other writers could also win. I do my bit in glorifying atheism, which is now being embraced by many across the subcontinent. I'm exceptionally philanthropic and give away all my earnings to the poor and needy. I've voraciously espoused children's education and women's liberation...both of which are issues of grave concern for India and Pakistan. Then I die. The two one-time arch-rival nations declare a week-long mourning. The world media is focussed on yours truly. By the way, I've also been a successful cricketer for the Indian side and have never been out. So impeccable is my record that statisticians had a hard time reconfiguring their tables to accommodate my flawless achievements. The crowning moment of my cricketing career happens when I beat Pakistan (in Pakistan) and then run along the periphery of the ground carrying the Pakistani flag. The crowd is deafeningly noisy and there's a maddening hysteria all around. I tell everyone that I'm as much Pakistani as Indian since I'm nationality agnostic.
What utter humbug!
I return to reality and begin reading articles from Salon, The New York Times and International Herald Tribune. I take a few breaks and reward myself with spoonfuls of Horlicks. I had originally intended to consume it the conventional way, but the chances of that happening seem bleak now. I cook Top Raman and two omelets for dinner.