To be perfectly honest, when the editor called, for the first thirty seconds, I thought he was speaking French. Then I realised I really shouldn’t be answering calls whilst doing a headstand. But what is one to do? In the modern world, time is a rarity and I find myself doing all my phone talk at the time of my daily headstand.
Finally, I put my head ahead of my legs, a bit like a mosquito does just before it takes flight, and I gradually began to comprehend. He wanted me to take over his job. I felt choked with emotion. I immediately fell on all fours and started weeping (this is, of course, as per my normal reaction to happy news).
I couldn’t help thinking of my parents’ sacrifices, my mother driving me to school once a month, whenever our driver would lose his monthly relative; my father eating one less Punjabi samosa every alternate Sunday... All these sacrifices would now bear fruit. What about money? Stock options/BMWs? My three-day weekly off, a pair of hot secretaries, or a secretary with a hot pair? I immediately asked him to email me the details and I promptly resumed my headstand.
The email wasn’t so flattering. It seems like I misinterpreted the whole thing — a natural mistake, as my French isn’t that good. I had been invited to take over a column for people with problems, mostly lover’s issues, but also all the other regular stuff, like where to get a good manicure, or whether it’s safer to wear regular underwear or boxers?
What happened to the last columnist? Mysteriously disappeared after he wasn’t allowed to claim an overpriced dinner at Indigo. The one before that developed Irritable Bowel Syndrome. The one before that, though it’s not been proven, may have changed gender without the assistance of anesthesia.
Nonetheless, I am undeterred and have decided to accept the offer. It’s not the princely sum of Rs 800 per column that’s driving me, but the fact that I now have a great opportunity to mislead a whole lot of strangers into leading better lives. I do get your point. Hitler and Mussolini did that with mixed results, but so what? Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Now for my qualifications… I am 89 kilos. I am not at all hairy. I have very few material desires. Sadly with advancing age, I have very few desires at all. I have had seven intense romances in the course of my 39 years.
Two were with inanimate objects. Of the seven, it was the latter two that I cherish the most. Occasionally I wear heels — I live with my parents. I fear everything. I’ve given away all my friends. I won an air rifle and my sister’s middle name is Sonia. Let’s face it, to write a ‘help’ column one can’t ask for better qualifications. So let me address you ‘oh prospective client’.
If you’ve got love issues, tax problems, involuntary urinary discharge, infidelity issues, road rage or just can’t find the right air conditioner; if you’re just lonely, lacking in self esteem and want to know if a lamp shade will make for a good life partner... write to me.
Just write to Uncle Cy at email@example.com And I’ll give you some relief…. err… that is, provided, I’m not doing a headstand at the time.