Firstly, let me state that even though I may be four beers down, I’m fully aware that you readers are absolutely sick of the Kochi controversy.
I understand that you’d rather be violated by a Mongoose bat (or an actual mongoose for that matter), than read another word about how Tharoor allegedly partook in shady dealings, instead of doing the job he was appointed to do, i.e. making small-talk at official dinners.
I get all that. But like it or not, this event is hugely important, because it means we don’t have to think about real issues like Dantewada. (Also, that issue is being pondered over by the likes of Arundhati Roy, who not so long ago, described the Dantewada Naxals as ‘Gandhians with Guns’, which is like saying Bobby Darling is a man, but with some lady parts.)
Therefore, as a responsible humour columnist, I must write about this IPL controversy, since the alternative would be to find a real job. So let’s have a quick look at the sequence of events:
1. Kochi trumps much-favoured Ahmedabad to win its very own IPL team. Keralites are delighted at the prospect of their favourite son, Sreesanth, finally earning his rightful spot as Head Cheerleader.
2. India wakes up to find that one of the owners of the Kochi IPL team is Sunanda Pushkar, a former beautician. Upon learning this, Sreesanth asks her for a free facial.
3. Tharoor, also known as ‘The Justin Bieber of Indian politics’, is incensed when Lalit Modi tweets about the former’s relationship with Ms. Pushkar. (I understand how Mr. Tharoor feels because I too, used to get upset when somebody publicised the fact that I liked a certain girl. In my defence, I was 13.)
4. An epic bout of mudslinging begins, with Tharoor’s aide referring to Modi as a convicted drug trafficker who was also once charged with assault and kidnapping. Such a man, they say, has no business running the IPL. I agree. With drugs, kidnapping and assault on his track record, Mr. Modi is fit to be sent to only one place — Parliament.
5. Tharoor’s camp goes on to add that the Minister received threats from D-Gang, asking him to leave Modi alone. Later it turns out that the D-Gang had called Tharoor only because they wanted his help in setting up their official Twitter page.
6. Rendezvous claims that Modi had offered them 50 million dollars to leave the IPL. This claim makes Modi look like one of those pipe-smoking, silken robe-wearing rich daddies in old Hindi films, who bribes the poor hero (Kochi) to leave his daughter (the IPL) alone. Except that in this case, the father has also whored his baby out to corporate fat-cats who claim that she’s ‘ekdum Karbonn Kamaal’ in bed.
7. Lalit Modi rubbishes all these claims, but deep down you know he’s hurt because he needs Ms. Pushkar more than Tharoor does. After all, he could really use a beautician.
8. Shashi Tharoor tries to defend himself in Parliament, but the Opposition greets him with the same respect one would accord a hijra at Bombay Gymkhana.
This pretty much sums up the entire controversy. Also, if I’m assaulted or kidnapped as a result of this column, you know whom to arrest.
Ashish Shakya co-writes the satire show, The Week That Wasn’t. Sometimes he’s even sober while doing so.