As Ramu lay beneath a magnificent geriatric banyan tree from the time of the Buddha or shortly thereafter, on the rim of a seasonally verdant Chhatrapati Shivaji Park in delightfully rustic Shivajinagar, his gaze wandered over to a rather lethargic cow lying in the grass, languidly swatting away a small battalion of flies with it’s tail now and then, deep in thought while ruminating upon whatever it had chanced to consume from the nearby garbage dump whose last collection by the sordid Shivajinagar Municipal Corporation was an event that had lapsed from the domain of current affairs into that of history.
In all the world, Hinduism is peculiarly unique in its attitude towards it’s bovine cousins, treating them with the greatest reverence in recognition of the multitude of benefits they shower upon a humanity largely undeserving of their glassy eyed magnanimity. The cow’s benevolently torpid gaze and blissfuly meditative rumination have conferred upon it a halo not unlike a revered sage pontificating upon questions of the gravest import such as the origins of the universe and the nature of reality. Hindus literally put the cow on a pedestal of motherhood and worship it as they would worship any of the myriad gods and goddesses that grace every street corner of the hallowed land, temples long ago having deemed to be of greater civic importance than hospitals, schools and trash cans. Indeed, it is an undeniable fact that the whole world except India disgustingly lusts after bacon and steak, and finds cause to thrust them into every meal of the day, while hypocritically promoting farm tours and petting zoos where cows and other animals are displayed as cuddly tourist attractions to blissfully ignorant children one day, only to be slaughtered the next day with a chilling ruthlessness and savagery that would make Hitler seem mild in comparison.
Then Ramu’s thoughts suddenly turned like an intrepid auto rickshaw driver turning at right angles to avoid a Shivajinagar pothole, to other metaphorical sacred cows that had become the norm in modern day India. The cow and Man’s hypocrisy towards it was merely emblematic of other hypocrisies that were rife and running riot with gay abandon. All political parties paid lip service to the need to maintain unity amidst diversity, yet each one of them had one pet axis or the other along which they wanted to divide constituents in their never-ending quest for “vote banks”. As if people were no different from cattle to be rounded up and collectively stuffed into a ballot. Maybe people were really no different from cattle, hence the depressing state of affairs, reasoned Ramu.
To test this theory, he suddenly gave Somu, who had been lazily stretched out in languid repose, a violent kick up his backside without any prior warning. Somu, Ramu’s best friend, compatriot, confidante, acolyte and accomplice in all projects, official as well as “semi-official”, reacted with the mildest surprise and resumed his idle reverie - of receiving the best student of the year award amidst wild cheers - with almost bovine indifference. Ramu proceeded to give Somu a severe tongue-lashing, the gist being that Somu’s types were leading the nation to utter ruin through their congenital apathy to whatever injustice they happened to be at the receiving end of. Somu made some assenting noises to pacify Ramu’s volcanic fury, which could be as abrupt and transient as a flash monsoon shower in Shivajinagar.
Ramu proceeded to rail and rant against all the kinds of hypocrisy prevalent in society. Communalism, casteism, skin color, religion, north-south polarization, parochialism, oversensitivity to any kind of perceived religious slight - nothing escaped his scathing tongue. One such sacred cow in Shivajinagar was a parochial policy to only staff school positions with local candidates. If no suitable local candidate was available, the post simply remained vacant or was staffed by unqualified temps, to the students’ detriment. The post of Physics teacher in Veermata Jijabai High School (VJHS) had thus lain vacant for years, and had recently been temporarily filled by a Mr. Gunde, an English teacher by profession, desperate for a job. Gunde was, to his credit, a highly qualified English teacher. However, since the only vacancy was for a Physics teacher, he had reluctantly agreed to accept the job in order to make ends meet.
Gunde was a man with a nervous disposition, thin as a rice stalk, clean shaven and with neatly parted and generously oiled jet black hair. For inscrutable reasons, he came to school everyday in a suit, and was known to absent-mindedly lapse into Dickens and Shakespeare in the midst of proving Newton’s laws, providing a source of much mirth to the backbenchers of which tribe Ramu and Somu were the chieftains. All students of his class, except for Badri the star student, had proceeded to fail en masse in the semester Physics examination. Indeed, Ramu and Somu had attained the humiliating distinction of being the only students to score ciphers in the subject. Badri was a genius who had scored full marks in Physics, to Ramu and Somu’s confounded consternation. Somu, whose sole talent in life was networking, reached out to Badri to get some clue to his phenomenal virtuosity in Physics. Badri revealed, while munching the freshly fried samosas from Sharma Dairy generously sponsored by Somu, that he had happened to make the acquaintance in the Shivajinagar Library, of a certain Dr. Muniandy Chinnadurai from Pollachi in South India, a PhD in Physics from Anna University. Dr. Muniandy, who was a brilliant teacher, had been of great help to him in understanding the concepts of Physics and in clarification of his myriad questions and doubts. It turned out that Dr. Muniandy himself made ends meet by taking private English tuitions since there were no takers in the educational ghetto that Shivajinagar had become, for his Physics qualifications. Now why this august, tall, handsome and aristocratic gentleman had chosen to emigrate to Shivajinagar, a rathole in the middle of nowhere, was an unsolved mystery. Perhaps he just liked the small town vibe and stress free living that Shivajinagar undoubtedly provided.
Ramu, the theorist, when presented with this information from the field, immediately had visions of a grand plan materialize in the intricate pathways of his stellar imagination. A plan to avenge their humiliation at Gunde’s hands shimmered tantalizingly. The outline of the plan was blindingly obvious - to get Gunde and Dr. Muniandy to swap roles. The devil, distressingly enough lay in the details. How could the nonsense parochial law of local teachers only be surmounted? The only person with authority to override it was the local education minister, Mr NKP Salve. Now, through a serendipitous coincidence, as we all know life abounds in, Dhondu Salve, Mr NKP Salve’s son, was Ramu Somu’s classmate. This fact, though not advertised by Dhondu himself, had been masterfully gleaned out by Somu through his clandestine information channels. Dhondu had also failed the Physics exam with a solitary mark, not being the brightest spark in class. But Dhondu also had another personal grouse against Gunde. You see, Gunde had publicly chided Dhondu in class for being the lowest scorer in the exam, when it was clear as daylight that Ramu and Somu should have been the recipients of that particular honor. Dhondu was still silently seething at the injustice and the public humiliation that had ripped his dignity to shreds.
Somu attacked, at Ramu’s insistence, when the iron was white hot. Dhondu was brainwashed over those irresistible samosas at Sharma Dairy to persuade his Dad to waive the parochial rule and let the Physics teacher post be permanently filled by Chinnadurai, with Gunde receiving an honorable discharge. Dhondu needed no persuasion at all. He had been waiting like a sitting duck for just such an opportunity to avenge his mortification. NKP Salve was presented with an irrefutable argument. When it came to his dear ward, no rule was unbendable, no action too unreasonable. Indeed, NKP had bent more than one rule to get him admitted to VJHS in the first place, given the condition of Dhondu’s intellectual apparatus, more like a tubelight than an incandescent bulb. This was a trifle in comparison. The official orders discharging Gunde from his role and appointing Dr. Muniandy to the same were issued at the speed of light to much rejoicing and fanfare in the student community.
The only casualty in this implausible saga was Gunde, who was silently relieved to not have to teach Physics anymore. However, Ramu, with characteristic comprehensiveness and concern, had thought of him too. As soon as Gunde left the VJHS premises, his cellphone started ringing off the hook with calls from Dr. Muniandy’s erstwhile English students. They were looking for a new English teacher. It was a win win for everyone.
A week passed by with gay abandon. The students had all instantly taken to Dr. Muniandy and sang his praises day and night. All except Ramu and Somu, who had been full of themselves and too busy daydreaming about their own exploits and cleverness in getting rid of Gunde. Dr. Muniandy then proceeded to hand out the papers for the flash Physics test. Cold beads of sweat ran down Ramu Somu’s forehead and they gulped nervously.