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Stars,
planets and changing rooms
By
Henry Holdenbottle |
Dear
Chandi,
My
sixth sense is tingling darling. According to an excited grape on
the vine, and a grape I may as well tell you that is particularly
given to mindless gossip, you have been changing rooms at the
presidential abode like bally ho. Sooth sayers and augurers rather
than interior designers have been responsible for this to and fro.
When Saturn was in the fifth house you needed to move to the
fourth room. No sooner Cancer returned to the eighth, you were
back where you started, in room one. Tedious, these little
internal journeys made on an ecclesiastical whim eh?
Just
as you bundled a few saris and tied a rope around your checked
suitcase in order to move to the back room overlooking the
brackish pond, those darn soothsayers saw a guiding star in the
east, requiring you to sally forth into a front room with a view
of the fourth floor of the CID. |
The
bally nuisance with these stars and planets and what not dearie is that
they can be interpreted any which way but loose. Sauce for the goose is
never sauce for the gander in these astrological affairs.
With
this level of reliance on the earth turning on its axis and so on, me
thinks the stars had something to do with your momentous decision last
week to de-merge the north and east. Come to think of it, may not have
been the stars at all. Might have been the full moon.
What
possessed you dear madam to talk of de-merging at this crucial time? I
know, could it have been the cyanide talks in Paris regarding the
interim administration? The timing seems perfect. Just as Tamilselvan
sat down under the Eiffel Tower to a snack of escargot in order to
discuss matters of an interim nature, you go and put a spanner in the
works. The poor chap would have sprung up from his seat under the famous
monument, dropping salted snails all over the place, as if poked with a
pointed instrument in the ample seat of his roomy pants.
I
mean to say darling, only a few moons ago, you were willing to give the
bally buggers 10 years of merged administration not to mention their own
police force. What made you change your mind? The primary cyanide was
even allowed to be Grand Vizier or monarch of all he surveys if you
prefer, in your little plan more fully explained to those journalistic
types at Time magazine. And now, you seem to be constantly in reverse
gear. Rather puckishly you seem to be behaving dear. Wanting to put a
little spanner in the works, what?
Wouldn't
be surprised if it wasn't Ranil and his satirical remarks giving you a
bit of a headache. Him and his dry wit. I am told that on hearing your
comment to the media types that he, Ranil in his salad days had toddled
behind you at Temple Trees shouting 'akki, akki', the droll chap had
quipped that you obviously had a hearing problem even in those younger
days for you had got the 'K' mixed up with an 'A.' Oops! The chap seems
to be getting witty in his old age.
Then
again it seems you are a tad nervous darling. Feeling time pass you by
eh? 2005 approaching apace what? Need to do a little political
manoeuvering to get back in the saddle.
But
back to upsetting apple carts and wrenching things apart. I can fathom
your trend of thought. If you cannot cohabit in the south, why merge in
the north? And alienating the turbaned kind is never quite such a
problem. They'll be creeping out of the woodwork, bearded to the
eyebrows and ready to de-merge, nicely incited by you.
Or
then again, this may be what you, having grown up on the wsest bank of
the Seine would call, 'j'adoube.' Merely an adjustment. A tactic used in
chess when touching a piece without intending to move it.
Rest
assured darling, if the turbaned chaps get stirred up to the marrow we
will have blood and mayhem once again. So when you call for that
referendum, tread very carefully. Very, very carefully even. Though I am
compelled to add that since the bally thing has been getting postponed
by successive presidents for yonks, come to think of it, good thing too
if you had a referendum asking the chappies in the east to vote for
merge or de-merge. That will purge out any doubts and we can get on with
the war. Wouldn't you like that dear? Hmmm. A coup de maitre, what?
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