Unusual campaign reports are coming in from Bangalore South, where Rohini Nilekani is campaigning for husband Nandan. Madam’s right arm rests in a sling because of an injury. (No need to draw poetic meanings about how the Congress symbol lies fractured). So how does it work? Commotion. Your bell rings frantically. You make a dash and swing open the door to find Madam waving a sheaf of handbills at you. You’re in panic. What have you done now? “Come out, come out,” she says, in a voice that makes you tremble and attempt to banish apparitions of your headmistress. “He is here!” He who? You rush. Edno bidno type. There he is, striding by. The he who sacrificed a plush life to walk the squalid streets of Gurappanpalya and Tilaknagar. The new political he. But Madam is not so Congress: her group is called Together With Nandan. Like Koffee With Karan. Biscuit Pack (aka B.Pac) with Kiran. Majjigehuli with Mohandas. Appalam with Amma. Momos with Mamata. Tequila with Shakila. Well, you get the drift... If you vote right, and overcome your childhood traumas, you might even win yourself a Dilpasand with Rohini. At an Iyengar bakery near you. Ah, the challenges of a product launch!
Narendra Modi, kalyam panniyoo brahmachari, is now acknowledging he has a wife. Information Minister Kapil Sibal is livid: he wants the Election Commission to punish Modi. Kapilji, please, however angry you might be, please don’t shoot off those SMS poems of yours. We are already shuddering to think of your rhymes: Modi/jodi. Marriage/justice miscarriage. Jashodaben/Autobahn. Bas, kavivary, bas!
(Your daily dose of satire)