Democracy delivered at home in an envelope

Aditya Aamir

[dropcap]J[/dropcap]ocko Street returned from the front door all smiles and lollipop lore written all over his ruddy face. Alex Smart on holiday asked why all the glamour at 11 in the morning and Jocko did his li’l-bow routine, waving a folded something in his hand. “This Sir, in my hand is democracy, people’s power at work, Arvind doing his magic!”

“What’s it? Arvind the Muffler Magician working for his paycheck instead of sleeping on the sofa! Looks like you finally got your ration card. Do ration cards translate to democracy, people power?”

“Nope, but when they are delivered to your doorstep, that means democracy, government for the people, by the people. AAP and Arvind are delivering what they promised to deliver if Modi and his pathological minions backed off, gotcha?”

“You mean that’s what the AAP government does now, deliver ration cards to doorsteps? Turn people lazy and goddamn pamper the hardworking Delhiwalla with gimmicks such as delivering stuff home, what else is new with Kejriwal and his one-horse town?”

“Alex, the problem with you is you don’t love your city Delhi, I do, OK? You asked what else? Well, a total of 40 services in all bro, from passports to driving licences to ration cards, all delivered at the doorstep, no hassles. You wouldn’t know how much time and harassment and money it saves, never mind the small tips and the bakshish.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure. Don’t worry, the money part must have been accounted for with some sort of tax, ad valorem of course; it’s an old gimmick pal, an old gimmick, governments never run themselves into the red. Like they say in Hindi, Is Haath Se Nahi Toh Us Haat Se, they get what they want. Don’t forget Kejri is an old IRS hand!”

“What do you mean IRS? Since when did Trump’s Internal Revenue Service invade India, the land of the holy cow? You must be loco, gone off the rocker; maybe it’s a one off, could be because of the hangover from last night’s Jack Daniels?”

“Listen tiny-brain, IRS as in Indian Revenue Service. You ought to brush up on your reading and general knowledge Jocko. And Kejriwal was in the Indian Revenue Service, so was his wife, maybe she still is. It is because of these two and Modi that my friend Rahul is in tax trouble. The Indian Revenue Service should oughta do some door delivery, too.”

“What do you mean your friend Rahul, since when did you become chum to Rahul Gandhi? Hell, you wouldn’t qualify to be his lashkar, I mean foot-soldier, I’d say he wouldn’t tell you the time of the day if the last hour before holocaust was upon you.”

[box type=”shadow” align=”aligncenter” class=”” width=””]AAP ka swagat hai…

In a total of 40 services, from passports to driving licences to ration cards, all will be delivered at one’s doorstep, no hassles. How much time, harassment and money it will save the public, never mind the small tips and the bakshish![/box]

“OK Man, you are right, I’m nowhere equal to Rahul. He’s PM-material, Man. Me, I wouldn’t know the PM from the AM if I had a Rolex to tell me. But, believe you me Jocko, Rahul will tell me the time of the day, ’cause he’s that sort of guy, very friendly and damn good at heart, he cares. Can Kejriwal match Rahul’s smile?”

“So, what are you Groucho Marxing about, why should the damn Indian IRS do door delivery and of what? And, by the way, if you don’t know, no courier or delivery boy can get within a mile of Rahul’s pad. You see wise guy, there’s something called the SPG. You’ll be lynched without a cow to milk.”

“Friend, and I hate to call you friend ’cause you ain’t worth it, I believe the IRS failed in its duty; the IRS should have warned Rahul that his tax consultants were two-timing him, the rats. They should have got on to Tom Vadakkan or Divya ‘Ramya’ Spandana and warned Rahul that he was being set up for the kill by Modi and Shah.”

“Alex, and I’ll warn you as a friend, you’re talking rubbish. Rahul’s in deep crap trouble because of some young Indian. Don’t know who the guy must be, but he sure has guts, this young Indian chap to take on the first family of India, calls for guts, brilliant. Always get your facts right Alex, always.”

“Jocko, I thank the lord you’re a friend, pal. I mean how many people in Delhi share a roof over their empty heads with a genius, a screwing Einstein. What’s your IQ Jocko, must be in the high 170s, surely? By the way, you cannot be the brilliant young Indian who’s got Rahul tied up in tax-knots, are you?”

“No, I am not that young Indian, Alex. But my hat’s off for the guy. I’m sure he must be somebody as brilliant as Arvind. Of course, there’s the gadfly Subramanian Swamy also involved, but I’ve seen Swamy’s picture and he is not young. That rules him out.”

“Brilliant, now if you snoop around, maybe ask Arvind, you’ll find out who’s the Young Indian? That will be awesome, Man. And I’ll put in a word with Divya Spandana, she’ll maybe take you under her wings. That’s where you ought to be, under Spandana’s wings, a brilliant young man such as you should have your picture in the National Herald.”

“That’s it, Alex, that’s it the National Herald! Eureka! That is the newspaper all of them are fighting over, something about ownership and shares and money. Rahul’s mom Sonia is part of the skirmish and so is some guy called Oscar. I think it’s in today’s paper along with the Bharat bandh.”

Alex Smart gave Jocko a dramatic thumbs up and disappeared behind the kitchen door. Jocko Street on the drawing room sofa smiled and waited for the doorbell to ring his driver’s licence delivered at doorstep, AAP Ka Swagat Hai!

(Author is a political commentator)