Satire

What happened when Pappu met Feku on April Fools’ Day

April-Fool-Day-Pranks

“Look who we have here,” said Feku, when he ran into Pappu at the New Delhi Airport, early morning today.
“Kahan hai re tu?” he asked.
“I was here only,” replied Pappu.
“Where?”
“In Surajkund.”
“Oh and everyone was speculating you are somewhere in Europe with your girl friend,” said a surprised Feku.
“Nah, I was with Jeejaji in Haryana. He knows the state very well na.”
“But why did you disappear?” asked a slightly concerned Feku.
“Oh, this was an idea one of the brand managers who has joined us came up with,” replied Pappu. “Brand managers?” asked Feku. “And I thought I had already recruited all of them.”
“Nah. So, you see no one was talking about me.”
“So?”
“So, I was told that I if I disappeared everyone would be talking about me.”
“Ah. Interesting.”
“And newspapers would write about me on their front pages. Websites would write analytical pieces on my disappearance.”
“You devil! There is nothing like negative publicity. What an idea. I will also try it in the years to come, when people stop believing in acche din aane waale hain.”
“With our party no longer in government we can’t put out those full page advertisements that we used to do, for all the publicity that we needed,” said a rather sad Pappu. “Ek wo din bhi the!”
“Yes, yes. Ab to hamari baari hai!” 
“But don’t tell anyone yet, that I am back.”
“Why?” asked a concerned Feku.
“I want to officially come back on Easter.”
“Pop out of the Egg, you mean?” asked Feku and burst out into laughter.
“He he. But I must tell you I am really inspired by you,” said Pappu immediately alerting Feku.
“That’s nice. Now what have I done?”
“Arre your party has become the biggest political party in the world.”
“Oh, that.”
“What an idea. Just make a missed call and become a member.”
“You see, all the brand managers I have hired, just keep coming up with these great ideas,” explained Feku.
“But how does someone, who has become a member by making a missed call, resign if he wants to? Make a missed call again?” asked Pappu trying to give chabhi to Feku.
“Pappu ji, now tell me, the nation wants to know when are you getting married?” asked Feku, trying to change the topic.
“Ah. You know Veronica my Spanish girl friend left me.”
“Awww. I am sorry to hear that . These women can drive you real crazy. But the family line also has to continue. It’s such a tricky call.”
“You must be talking from your ‘brief’ experience. My Spanish girl friend loved calling me Raul. I can still remember the way she used to twirl her tongue while calling out my name. “Raaaauuuullll,” still gives me goosebumps,” recalled a rather emotional Pappu.
“Never mind Pappu. It’s time to move on. As the Biggest B once said: “Jo beet gayi so baat gayi, maana woh behad pyara tha,”” said Feku, getting all poetic.
“But I still miss her you know. “Like the roses need the rain. Like the poets need the pain. Baby I want you,”” said Pappu, bursting out into a Bon Jovi song.
“Lagta hai dard bahut gehra hai,” said Feku.
“Sorry?”
“The Spanish girl might want you to become a matador in a bull fight. Next time you should date a nice homely Gujarati girl. Worse come worse she will make you fly kites on Makar Sankranti and make you eat dhoklo, theplo, khakro and undiyo,” saidFeku, trying to feign some sympathy. 
“And I can shout Kai Po Che,” said Pappu, all excited. “Once I cut your kite. Wo subah kabhi to aayegi!”
“If you want I could even look for a good Gujarati girl for you,” offered Feku,ignoring Pappu’s remark. 
“Could you?” asked Pappu.
“Yes, why not!”
“But there is a slight problem with that?”
“What? Madam won’t like it?” asked Feku. “Don’t worry I will talk to her.”
“No. No. Ma is fine as long as I marry a girl.”
“Then?”
“Well, I can’t call my girlfriend ben no. Also, she might turn out to be a Gujarat model. Not good for my party you see.”
“Ye achi baat nahi hai,” screamed Feku and walked out of the room.

(Vivek Kaul is the author of the Easy Money trilogy. He tweets @kaul_vivek)  

The spoof originally appeared on Firstpost on April 1, 2015

The Sensex will touch one million by 2050

Vivek Kaul 

“So, the bosses are really mad at us,” said Harshad, the senior most analyst at the brokerage firm.
“Oh, why?” asked Ketan. “What did we do now? I have recommended every stock that they wanted me to recommend.”
“I guess it must have to do with all the Sensex forecasts. There was even one report which predicted that the index will touch one lakh points by 2020,” explained Rakesh.
“Yeah and we haven’t put out one,” said Harshad.
“You know I don’t like these Indian numbers,” said Samir, butting in on the video-conference from Singapore. “This lakh-shak is too small. Let’s talk of at least a million.”
“Samir,” said Ketan. “How come you are not on TV today, driving up the market?”
“Guys, lets get serious,” said a rather worried Harshad. “We need to do something.”
“Arre this prediction business is too risky,” said Rakesh. “I predicted in 2007 that the Sensex will touch 50,000 points in six-seven years.”
“So?” asked Samir.
“Well, we are only half way there.”
“You forgot the first law of forecasting, which it to make as many forecasts as possible and then publicise the ones you get right. How do you think I have managed to survive so long?” explained Samir.
“Guys, we are deviating from the point,” said Harshad. “We need to do some damage control.”
“Like what?” asked Ketan.
“Like coming up with our own Sensex forecast,” answered Harshad.
“Then, let’s follow the second rule of forecasting,” said Samir.
“Second rule?” asked Rakesh.
“Oh. Let’s say that the Sensex will touch one million points by 2050.”
“But what is the second rule of forecasting?” asked a frustrated Harshad.
“Oh, it is to make a forecast very far into the future, so that even if we get it wrong, nobody would know that we had made the forecast in the first place,” explained Samir with a chuckle.
“Actually, the Sensex needs to give a return of just 10.8% per year for it to touch one million points by 2050,” said Ketan, quickly running the numbers on the excel sheet. “So this is one forecast we will most likely get right.”
“Nah, but 2050 is too far off,” said Harshad. “While we can say that, we will also need something which is a tad nearer.”
“How about the Sensex touching one lakh points by 2022,” said Rakesh, not having learnt from his previous mistake.
“But why 2022?” asked Ketan. “And not 2021 or 2023?”
“Oh, in 2022, we complete 75 years of freedom,” replied Rakesh.
“So?” asked Samir.
“Mr Bachchan also turns 80 that year,” said Ketan.
“Guys, where is this heading,” said Harshad. “You will get me fired. I still have EMIs to pay.”
“Actually Mr Bachchan reminds me of a line from the film Amar, Akbar, Anthony,” said Ketan.
“Ye kya ho raha hai?” asked Harshad, having lost control of the meeting totally.
“So, you see, the whole country of the system is juxtaposition by the haemoglobin in the atmosphere because you are a sophisticated rhetorician intoxicated by the exuberance of your own verbosity,” said Ketan.
“Man, I never knew you could say that,” said Samir, jumping from his seat. “I tried rattoing it for almost a year and then gave up.”
“Guys, guys, but what is the point?” asked a beleaguered Harshad.
“The point is that we need to come up with some sophisticated sounding gibberish to predict that Sensex will touch one lakh points by 2022,” explained Rakesh.
“Ah you read my mind so well,” complemented Ketan.
“So, what is the story?” asked Harshad.
“It’s simple. The Sensex needs to give a return of 17.8 to 20.3% returns per year if it needs to touch one lakh points in 2022,” explained Ketan, quickly using the excel sheet again.
“And?” asked Samir, totally flummoxed about where this was going.
“If we look at Sensex since 1979, it has given a return of a little over 17% per year on an average,” said Ketan.
“But 17% is not enough. We need more than that,” said Harshad, feeling a tad relaxed now.
“Well, we can add a few percentage points, as the new government premium,” said Ketan.
“New government premium?” asked Samir, feeling totally left out in Singapore.
“You need to comeback Samir,” said Rakesh. “You are not getting even the most basic stuff these days.”
“Let me explain,” said Ketan. “Basically we will say that the new government will set right everything that is wrong with the Indian economy. And that will mean that the Sensex will rise at 20% per year over the next eight years, instead of the usual 17%.”
“Brilliant story guys,” exclaimed Samir.
“So, I guess we have our story,” said Rakesh. “Let me just go and check how my value picks are doing. I had bought some of these stocks in the late 1980s.”
“Wait, wait, guys. Let me add the icing on the cake,” interrupted Samir.
“But make it quick,” said Harshad.
“I think along with the story, we also need to launch a new M.O.D.I. fund,” said Samir.
“Eh, what is that?” asked Ketan, irritated by the fact that Samir was butting in to take all the credit. “Oh M.O.D.I. fund stands for Multiple Opportunities in the Development of India fund,” said Samir.
“The name will help us raise a lot of money.”
“Ah, Samir, the I love way you give it a spin,” said Harshad. “Its all about Modi anyway.”
The article originally appeared on www.FirstBiz.com on June 16, 2014
(Vivek Kaul is the author of the Easy Money trilogy. He tweets @kaul_vivek) 

The Sensex will touch one million by 2050

Vivek Kaul 

“So, the bosses are really mad at us,” said Harshad, the senior most analyst at the brokerage firm.
“Oh, why?” asked Ketan. “What did we do now? I have recommended every stock that they wanted me to recommend.”
“I guess it must have to do with all the Sensex forecasts. There was even one report which predicted that the index will touch one lakh points by 2020,” explained Rakesh.
“Yeah and we haven’t put out one,” said Harshad.
“You know I don’t like these Indian numbers,” said Samir, butting in on the video-conference from Singapore. “This lakh-shak is too small. Let’s talk of at least a million.”
“Samir,” said Ketan. “How come you are not on TV today, driving up the market?”
“Guys, lets get serious,” said a rather worried Harshad. “We need to do something.”
“Arre this prediction business is too risky,” said Rakesh. “I predicted in 2007 that the Sensex will touch 50,000 points in six-seven years.”
“So?” asked Samir.
“Well, we are only half way there.”
“You forgot the first law of forecasting, which it to make as many forecasts as possible and then publicise the ones you get right. How do you think I have managed to survive so long?” explained Samir.
“Guys, we are deviating from the point,” said Harshad. “We need to do some damage control.”
“Like what?” asked Ketan.
“Like coming up with our own Sensex forecast,” answered Harshad.
“Then, let’s follow the second rule of forecasting,” said Samir.
“Second rule?” asked Rakesh.
“Oh. Let’s say that the Sensex will touch one million points by 2050.”
“But what is the second rule of forecasting?” asked a frustrated Harshad.
“Oh, it is to make a forecast very far into the future, so that even if we get it wrong, nobody would know that we had made the forecast in the first place,” explained Samir with a chuckle.
“Actually, the Sensex needs to give a return of just 10.8% per year for it to touch one million points by 2050,” said Ketan, quickly running the numbers on the excel sheet. “So this is one forecast we will most likely get right.”
“Nah, but 2050 is too far off,” said Harshad. “While we can say that, we will also need something which is a tad nearer.”
“How about the Sensex touching one lakh points by 2022,” said Rakesh, not having learnt from his previous mistake.
“But why 2022?” asked Ketan. “And not 2021 or 2023?”
“Oh, in 2022, we complete 75 years of freedom,” replied Rakesh.
“So?” asked Samir.
“Mr Bachchan also turns 80 that year,” said Ketan.
“Guys, where is this heading,” said Harshad. “You will get me fired. I still have EMIs to pay.”
“Actually Mr Bachchan reminds me of a line from the film Amar, Akbar, Anthony,” said Ketan.
“Ye kya ho raha hai?” asked Harshad, having lost control of the meeting totally.
“So, you see, the whole country of the system is juxtaposition by the haemoglobin in the atmosphere because you are a sophisticated rhetorician intoxicated by the exuberance of your own verbosity,” said Ketan.
“Man, I never knew you could say that,” said Samir, jumping from his seat. “I tried rattoing it for almost a year and then gave up.”
“Guys, guys, but what is the point?” asked a beleaguered Harshad.
“The point is that we need to come up with some sophisticated sounding gibberish to predict that Sensex will touch one lakh points by 2022,” explained Rakesh.
“Ah you read my mind so well,” complemented Ketan.
“So, what is the story?” asked Harshad.
“It’s simple. The Sensex needs to give a return of 17.8 to 20.3% returns per year if it needs to touch one lakh points in 2022,” explained Ketan, quickly using the excel sheet again.
“And?” asked Samir, totally flummoxed about where this was going.
“If we look at Sensex since 1979, it has given a return of a little over 17% per year on an average,” said Ketan.
“But 17% is not enough. We need more than that,” said Harshad, feeling a tad relaxed now.
“Well, we can add a few percentage points, as the new government premium,” said Ketan.
“New government premium?” asked Samir, feeling totally left out in Singapore.
“You need to comeback Samir,” said Rakesh. “You are not getting even the most basic stuff these days.”
“Let me explain,” said Ketan. “Basically we will say that the new government will set right everything that is wrong with the Indian economy. And that will mean that the Sensex will rise at 20% per year over the next eight years, instead of the usual 17%.”
“Brilliant story guys,” exclaimed Samir.
“So, I guess we have our story,” said Rakesh. “Let me just go and check how my value picks are doing. I had bought some of these stocks in the late 1980s.”
“Wait, wait, guys. Let me add the icing on the cake,” interrupted Samir.
“But make it quick,” said Harshad.
“I think along with the story, we also need to launch a new M.O.D.I. fund,” said Samir.
“Eh, what is that?” asked Ketan, irritated by the fact that Samir was butting in to take all the credit. “Oh M.O.D.I. fund stands for Multiple Opportunities in the Development of India fund,” said Samir.
“The name will help us raise a lot of money.”
“Ah, Samir, the I love way you give it a spin,” said Harshad. “Its all about Modi anyway.”
The article originally appeared on www.FirstBiz.com on June 16, 2014
(Vivek Kaul is the author of the Easy Money trilogy. He tweets @kaul_vivek) 

What Rahul baba learnt from Dedh Ishqiya before his big speech


rahul gandhiVivek Kaul 
Rahul baba was getting ready to make the big speech.
Along with his mother and a speech writer, an executive from the recently hired advertising agency to spruce up his image, was also present in the war room.
“I am so proud of you beta,” said the mother. “You are finally behaving like a grown up. Taking the bull by its horns.”
“Bull?” asked Rahul. “I thought we called him the feku.”
“Feku is the old term for him sir,” said the executive from the advertising agency. “These days we are calling him the chaiwallah in all our internal communication.”
“Yeah, how does an upstart like him, a chaiwallah‘s son, dare to challenge you Rahul baba,” said the speech writer, who was an old family hand. “India’s next leader has to be you. In fact, we should ask feku to run a tea stall at our conclave.”
“Okay, okay, that is enough,” replied a slightly irritated Rahul. “Have you got the speech ready?”
“Yes sir,” said the speech writer, handing over a few sheets to Rahul.
Rahul went through the pages very quickly and had a slightly miffed look on his face.
“Arre this is the same speech I made last month!” exclaimed Rahul.
“No sir. This is a totally new speech. I just wrote this just today morning,” replied the speech writer. “I stopped copy pasting after what happened to Shah Rukh Khan.”
“But then why does it read the same?”
“What to do,” said the speech writer. “All speeches written for Congress leaders sound the same since the 1960s. It’s all about roti, kapda aur makan. How many different speeches can one write on the same theme?”
“Oh that’s fine,” interjected the advertising executive. “You can fool some of the people all the time. Also, these kind of speeches go well with the brand positioning of the Congress. But we need to add some points about the economic growth to it as well.”
“Economic growth?” asked the speech writer. “
“Yes. Now its about roti, kapda, makan aur economic growth.”
“Arre par what happened to garibi hatao then?” asked the confused speech writer.
“Oh, we have removed garibi already through our flagship schemes like food security and NREGA,” said Rahul.
“When did that happen?” wondered the speech writer. “What will I do now?”
“Shutup,” said Rahul. “So Ma when do I get to make this speech?”
“Oh, right at the end of the conclave.”
“At the end?” asked Rahul. “Why Ma?”
“You are the show stopper beta.”
“I don’t like this. It sounds like the Hindi films of the sixties and the seventies, wherein the actor Pran’s name used to come right at the end of the casting. It always used to be And Pran.”
“So?” asked the perplexed mother.
“I am not a villain Ma.”
“No no beta. You are the show stopper like in the fashion shows. The biggest star always comes at the end. You are the hero. With your speech being scheduled right at the end the workers will wait to listen to you and that way we will have a stadium full of people. Other leaders can also have an audience while they speak.”
“No Ma. Sheila aunty got me to speak right at the end and people started to leave as soon as I started to speak.”
“Oh that was the general public Sir,” the advertising executive interrupted. “These are members of your party. Rest assured they won’t leave. And I will ensure that the doors are locked from the outside till your speech is over.”
“Haan that sounds like a plan,” said Rahul. “Good we hired you guys.”
“Always at your service sir,” replied the advertising executive.
“You know I was thinking of using some Urdu poetry that I have been reading lately,” said Rahul. “Ah, like mauni baba,” said the speech writer.
“So how is this?”
“Wah Wah,” said the advertising executive.
“Arre first let me complete the couplet,” said Rahul.
“Oh, but what is that we have to say when someone starts reciting a couplet?” asked the advertising executive, who happened to be a Bengali.
“Irshad, irshad, Rahul baba,” the speech writer chipped in.
“Ke arz kiya hai,” started Rahul.
“Bolo beta,” said the mother.
“Galat bazar ki janib chale aaye hain hum shayad,
chalo Sansad main chalte hain wahan bhi sale lagti hai.
Koi bhi androoni gandagi bahar nahi hoti,
humme to is hukumat ki bhi kidney fail lagti hai.”
(janib = towards. Sansad = Parliament. androoni = inside. Gandagi = dirt. hukumat = rule)
“Wah wah beta,” said the excited mother. “I didn’t know there was a poet inside you.”
“Oh, I didn’t write it Ma. This is by a poet called Munnawar Rana,” replied Rahul.
“Sir, there two problems with this couplet,” said the advertising executive.
“Two?” asked Rahul.
“Actually three. As a politician when you quote an Urdu couplet it has to be from Ghalib because he is the only Urdu poet we Indians have heard of.”
“Oh.”
“You are going against your own government with this couplet.”
“That I do all the time. Mauni baba does not mind. And that’s my style”
“Yes. But that is not correct. The party and the government should be seen to be saying the same things,” explained the advertising executive. “This is a fundamental rule of communication.”
“And what is the third thing?”
“Oh, Dedh Ishqiya, a fantastic film which was high on Urdu, did not do as well as it was expected to.”
“So?” asked Rahul.
“I think you should stick to English and Hindi.”
“Hmmm,” said Rahul. “I so wanted to speak some Urdu. People sound so intelligent when they speak in Urdu.”
“What else have you thought of?” asked the speech writer.
“You know I have been reading this management book Fen Zu and the Art of War. And inspired by that I have written something.”
“I am so proud of you beta,” said the beaming mother.
“We will go into this battle as warriors with our heads held high. We will not look back. We will go into this battle knowing who we are and what we stand for. We will fight with all that we have within us. We will not rest. We will not lose courage. And we will not stop till the battle is won,” said Rahul.
“Now that sounds like a speech,” said the advertising executive. “Absolutely kick-ass. You are The Last Action Hero.”
“And I will have to look for a job,” said the speech writer.
“Now only if you had got me a bahu (daughter-in-law),” said the mother.
And Rahul wondered “Agar Joker chala gaya to Batman kya karega? (If the Joker goes away what will Batman do?)”
(Vivek Kaul is a writer. He tweets @kaul_vivek)
The article originally appeared in January 18, 2014
Disclosure: The last line of the piece, “Agar Joker chala gaya to Batman kya karega!,” has been borrowed from a similar line from the recently released Dedh Ishqiya 

Inflation over 10%: India needs a Rajiv Gandhi Inflation Control Yojana

RAJIV_158869fVivek Kaul
“But Ma I want to become an economist,” said the son.
“An economist?” asked the mother. “Why in the world do you want to do that? You are already a politician.”
“Aren’t they kind of cool?” asked the son.
“Care to explain?”
“Look at Rajan at the Reserve Bank, the women are just swooning over him,” said the son. “Mrs De even wrote a column on how hot he is.”
“Yes. But do you remember the one before Rajan? No woman would have fallen for him, even though he did try and learn the salsa dance,” said the mother, puncturing the bubble.
“Ah, trust you to spoil the fun as always,” said the son. “I was so looking forward to the women swooning over me.”
“Aren’t they already,” replied the mother, trying to do some damage control. “Look at the number of responses we have got to that advertisement we placed on globalshadi.com. Wanted a fair, convent educated, homely girl who respects her elders and can cook.”
“He He.”
“But why do you suddenly want to become an economist?”
“Oh, every other day the media talks about inflation, index of industrial production and what not,” said the son. “And I don’t understand any of it.”
“But you don’t have to understand all that beta,” said the mother. “What else do we have mauni baba for?”
“Oh yeah, mauni baba is an economist, I had almost forgotten, given that he rarely speaks these days.”
“Yes. Let me just call him for you.”
Five minutes later, mauni baba is hurried in through the door.
“What happened madam?” he asked. “Hope all is well.”
“Nothing really,” she replied. “My son here just had a few small doubts. I’ll leave the two of you alone to have a man to man talk.”
Saying this, the mother left the room and the son decided to brush up on his economics.
“You know sir, the index of industrial production(IIP) number came in earlier in the day and it rose by 2%.”
“Yes, it did beta. What do you want to know about it?” asked mauni baba rather lovingly.
“Why is the number so low?”
“We are going through tough times. You know the IIP essentially measures the level of the industrial activity in the country.”
“But isn’t 2% very low?”
“Yes it is. In fact, if we look at just manufacturing which forms 75% of the IIP, it grew by only 0.6%.”
“Oh, so low?”
“Yes,” said mauni baba. “The industrial activity in the country has come to a standstill.”
“But why is that?” asked the son.
“People are not buying as many cars as they were. Neither are they buying consumer durables, which fell by 10% during September 2013, in comparison to the same period last year,” said mauni baba, without answering the question.
“But what is the problem?”
“The problem is inflation. The consumer price inflation for the month of October 2013 was at 10.09%.”
“Oh, yes I saw that on television,” said the son. “They keep going on and on about onion and tomato prices going up. I am so bored of watching that.”
“Yes, you should watch Star World Premiere HD.”
“And if they can’t eat onions and tomatoes, why don’t they try pasta and pizza,” said the son. “Or even caviar.”
“Doesn’t go down well with the Indian taste, you know,” said mauni baba. “We need our dal, rice and rasam.”
“So you were telling me something about inflation.”
“Yes. So inflation is greater than 10%. Food inflation is higher. Consumer price inflation number suggests that food inflation is at 12.56%. As per the wholesale price inflation number, the food inflation is at 18.4%.”
“And what does that mean?”
“Half of the expenditure of an average Indian household goes towards food. Given the rate at which food prices are rising, more and more money is being spent on paying for food and other essentials.”
“Oh.”
“Hence, there is very little money left to buy non essential items like consumer durables and cars. And this leads to low industrial activity. When the demand falls, so does the supply.”
“But where does this inflation come from?” asked the son. “Why can’t we just stop it by launching a RGICLY?”
“RGICLY?” asked mauni baba. “What is that?”
“Rajiv Gandhi Inflation Control Yojana,” explained the son, very seriously.
“We can try, we can try,” said mauni baba going with the flow.
“But where does this inflation come from?”
“Well, over the last few years, the government has increased its expenditure. All this money being spent lands up in the hands of people. And they go out and spend that money. When a greater amount of money chases the same amount of goods and services, prices rise. Food prices particularly work along these lines.”
“Ah. So basically we need to grow more onions and tomatoes.”
“Yes, yes,” said mauni baba. “Its an opportune time to launch IGKTUY.”
“IGKTUY?” asked, the confused son. “What is that?”
“Indira Gandhi Kaandha Tamatar Ugaao Yojana.”
“Kaandha why not just Pyaaz or Pyaaj?” asked the son. “No one understands Kaandha in North India.”
“Oh, I just though IGK comes in a sequence and thus, sounds better,” mauni baba explained.
“IGK or IJK?” asked the son.
“Oh, never mind.”
“But now I get it. Basically inflation is killing growth,” said the son.
“Yes, in fact there is even a term for it.”
“And what is that?”
“Stagflation, which is a combination of stagnation and inflation.”
“Ah, stagflation,” said the son. “I quite like the term. Reminds me of all the stag parties I used to attend.”
“So can I go now?” asked mauni baba.
“Wait, wait, wait,” said the son. “I just understood what you were really trying to say.”
“What?”
“That, mother is essentially responsible for everything. She was the one who got the government to increase its expenditure and spend much more than it earned, which is what finally led to inflation.”
“But I didn’t say that,” mauni baba protested.
“You did not. But that was what you meant,” said a confident son. “Mother won’t like listening to this.”
“Ah. You are making the same mistake as other people.”
“What?”
“They don’t call me mauni baba just for nothing,” said mauni baba and walked out confidently from the room.
The mother soon came back into the room and the son told her everything. As he finished, the mother burst out into a hearty laugh.
“You know, this is quite unbelievable,” she said. “You want me to believe that for the last half an hour mauni baba was speaking and you were listening?”
The article originally appeared on www.firstpost.com on November 13, 2013
(Vivek Kaul is a writer. He tweets @kaul_vivek)