The windmills of Time


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The bath-tub was anointed with lavender oil and rose petals. Deva Bapu rose from the tub. 3 female attendants knelt to spread a fluffy white towel at his feet. Deva spun the saffron robes around his considerable girth. One attendant stood on tiptoe to daub horizontal gashes of vermillion and ash across his broad forehead. Her nipples, demure in white silk, grazed against bare nipples. She blushed and swayed in ecstasy. Another attendant wound rosary beads around his hairy wrist.


Deva Bapu heard the shuffle of impatient thighs scraping the floor directly above his head. He knew the assembly was packed with devotees. He flicked a glance at the mirror. Miracle Bapu stared back at him. His eyes were bloodshot and flat as a snake.He didn’t doubt his divinity.  Continue reading


The surgeon’sdecision


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“Doctor saab, my child got a bruise on his knee. It’s bleeding heavily. Help, please.”

“Hmm, blood is very precious. We cannot permit its loss,” said the #surgeon. Nobody was sure if he owned a medical degree. However, his ancestor had been a great surgeon once upon a time. He spent plenty of his earnings to ensure that the young surgeon’s face was splashed upon pamphlets and trumpeted through handouts as the upcoming Messiah.

The village people were #innocent, #trusting and #hopeful. So they trusted and hoped.


Continue reading

The story of my experiments with Truth


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A school memory pops out of my amygdala.

Lil Sweety is in the 10th std. Unit test exam. Subject – English.

She receives a measly 0.5 marks for one particular 5 mark question. She anxiously goes through her whole answer and finds no fault with it. She approaches the teacher, proffers her answer sheet and politely enquires what went wrong with her answer.


The teacher peruses the answer once and jabs a triumphant thumb at the second sentence. “You wrote M.K Gandhi instead of Gandhiji.”

Sweety blinks in puzzlement and tries to establish her point. “Madam, M.K Gandhi is the same person as Gandhiji.”

“I know.” The teacher snaps. “But you cannot write M.K Gandhi. It’s insulting to the Father of the Nation.”

Sweety is even more perplexed. ”Why should he get insulted by his own name?”

“You wouldn’t understand. Don’t repeat the mistake next time.”

“Is there anything else wrong with my answer?”


Finis. Sweety’s marks stay stubbornly steady at 0.5 out of 5.0

Needless to say, that is the end of her experiments with Truth. Since lil Sweety is not convinced by the teacher’s reasoning or reply, she decides that the best solution to this problem is to keep the entire M.K Gandhi chapter as optional.  Not just for the Final exam, but Forever. anonymous-black-bw-mask-reason-truth

P.S– It’s a true story from her childhood. Sweety is now grown up (relatively) but she remains as baffled as ever. What crime did she commit?

What would you do if you were lil Sweety? What would you do if you were the teacher?

MK Gandhi