From time immemorial, allegations are rife in Kerala politics about the involvement of CIA. Taking a week off from Yentha, I decided to investigate the truth. And soon I stumbled upon a copy of a confidential report submitted by Agent Patrick to Obama. It is true, I shuddered.
Guys, it was a close shave. I learned to my horror that a CIA team worked in our capital for a while, to study the possibilities of a coup in Kerala. Rising to its stature as a capital city, Trivadrum dashed their hopes. Thanks to the people and the authorities. You want me to read the report, eh? Hear it out:
As part of the covert operation I assumed a bogus name, as soon as I came here. I told my neighbours that I was working in Techno park. That stalled all enquiries.
We began our work by visiting thattukadas at night to study the people. We couldn’t help admiring their talents. Let me begin with the chammanthi they make, Obama. It is a craft! You pour it in Statue, it ends up in Thampanoor. And the pace at which dosa is diminishing in size, soon it will be one rupee for just the sound. I complained that there was a dead fly in my sambar. Samban, the dosa maker came up to me and said, “Sorry, it is the heat that kills it. And don’t make a fuss, they’ll all want now.”
And you wanted us to investigate what technology the government is using to cover the eyes of our spy-satellites. Gosh! Advanced technology sir. Every morning, they send out KSRTC buses to different parts of the city emitting thick black smoke. Auto rickshaws cover pocket roads, where the buses cannot ply. A whole department (Motor Vehicles) is functioning in the state to check whether a minimum quantity of tar and carbon monoxide is emitted on a daily basis.
Did I say auto rickshaws? Oh, yes, they are god’s creations sir. Tell our Patton tank drivers to go slow when they are caught behind one. Auto rickshaws are famous for their lightening u-turns. The courageous auto driver would give our Patton tank drivers an earful, even if it is his fault. “Ippo adayayene…(Your bloody tank was just saved from getting under the wheels of my auto rickshaw)Thalle…enthada ravile veetil paranjittu thane irangiyirikkunathu?” An auto rickshaw driver talking to a Patton tank driver!
With the help of them, we can conquer more in the city. On my way from Over bridge to Palayam, my auto rickshaw driver showed me three secretariats, four East forts and two Shangumugham beaches. He charged me only five hundred for all that. When I asked him, what the figure in the metre ‘110’ meant, he broke down. “That is the age at which my father died. Oh, he was such a nice man,” I gave him Rs. 100 extra. Poor man.
The traffic is a big conundrum we have to deal with. Tell our soldiers, never to trust a zebra crossing. Hear out what a private bus driver has to say: “Well, it is an extremely difficult task to catch a zebra-crossing in between the front and back tyres of a bus at the traffic lights. Only the skillful can be so precise.” It takes the bravest of our American soldiers to cross the frontline of vehicles waiting for the green signal.
And the way the pedestrians dexterously avoid spittle, tell our army not to bring foot-mines when they come. Sheer waste. The locals would survive stampedes too, for they got trained getting into the dining halls at marriages.
We usually traveled around in jadhas (protest marches), the best mode of conveyance in the city. You catch a jadha to move around and can take rest getting on city buses stranded on the way.
The politicians here are extremely smart. When I met one and complained about mosquitoes, he replied giving me the shock of my life, “CIA is behind that…” We were about to run when we saw his wife coming. “Chetta…nammude kandan poocha prasavichu.” He looked deep into the horizon, took a deep sigh and mumbled…”CIA…” Sir, I know it is classified information. Still, I want to know. Do you have any other team, working on that?
All roads lead to Amayizhanjan thodu in the city. Obama sir, you must see the trenches here, which are maintained by the PWD. When it rains, only a Malayalee can tell a road from a thodu. We haven’t measured the depths of some potholes. So no way you could nuke this spot. Because if it falls in one of these potholes, it could be you sitting at the other end of the planet, getting nuked.
Technology-wise, the mallus are a class by themselves. We are no match for their ingenuity. Thumpa, as you know where the ISRO is, is an eyewash sir. The actual launching centre is at Vazhayila, near Peroorkada. In order to fool the world, the water authority runs the launching unit(They claim it is just the pipe lines bursting. Chummatheya, never have I seen water in my pipe).
Last week, they made a manned mission to space. Sasi, who was running a thattukada at Vazhayila was rocketed to space with the power of (can you believe it!) water! His thattukada closely followed him. The exact timing of these launchings still remains elusive. He is not back to his wife’s evening scolding sessions even when this report is being typed.
And now a few words about the social setup. We have been noticing a curious incident from day 1. Early morning: We saw polythene covers filled to their brim rolling over the wall from one house to another. Five minutes later we would see another landing on another house. What could it be, we were curious. And curiosity almost killed us all. We got a cover like that, thrown out of a car on the road. The vomiting hasn’t stopped since then sir. Waste management! Thank god, they have some good crematoriums in the city.
Few would notice, if we barge into a house at prime time. Women would be glued to the TV watching the 73rd climax of a serial called ‘manasaputhri.’ Husbands would be busy exploiting the moment, boozing up under the cot or inside the cupboard. (They are ready to help us in our coup, provided we don’t tell the booze-matter to their wives).
Please tell our soldiers when they come, that they never, never should touch or switch off a TV. Katrina (the storm that raged through our country) was light breeze, our soldiers will learn, before the Narayanis, Karthyayanis, Eliyammas and Dakshayanis unleashed from the premises of a television. Instead the yankees can loot the house, plunder the bedroom, beat up the husband, dance with the daughters, throw up the kids. No one will ask. Don’t touch the telly.
I saw some women from Maldives also in the city. They also sit around the television in the evening ready to shed tears, but for the language. “Lanthanum mappi ghamis lanthan lanthan,” one said trying to hold back her tears. How true! And how pathetic!
The neighbours love one another a lot. They won’t be having any peace of mind, until they see their neighbours also have what they have. “Chetta…avide current undo?” “Illaaaaaa….” They get relieved. Because of their resourcefulness, even gods in the city remain alert 24×7. One god never dares to get up from his lying position for fear of men pulling him down. Another God stands on the topmost storey of buildings, but is still not sure, hence peers down worriedly at his legs all the time.
And sir, nowhere else we saw people treating countries as individuals. I heard Kuttan, a local barber talking, “Aa amerikkakku bhranthanu (America is mad). Avanalle pandu Indiaye chathichathu?(America jilted India). Paranju pattichille, dushtan (America broke its promise). Ethra nalu India athu kittumennu karuthi kathirunnu, pavam(Poor India waited long for getting it). Avante chellakkittu oru kuthu kodukkukaya vendathu( Well..er…Obama, forget it).
And you must appreciate their courage also. You know what they did when we attacked Iraq. The DYFI, Mukkola unit issued a warning to Bush to pull back American forces or face dire consequences. Next day, Youth Congress leader, Decent Junction Pushkaran issued an ultimatum to the US to go back from Iraq. When we pulled back some of our forces ultimately, Pushkaran was greeted with slogans, “Pullane pullane..bush Pushkinu pullane…”
Obama, one more thing I want you to tell our soldiers. Even if they come, don’t set up camps in any open grounds in the city. The people here are looking around for opportunities to spend their evenings at trade fairs and exhibition stalls. Even if our soldiers set up camps, never, never should they hang out their undergarments outside for drying. The locals would take it as trade fair.
We raised a camp at Putharikkandam, and next day we woke up to a pandemonium. The whole ground was mobbed by families—nagging wives, crying babies, serious husbands, balloon merchants, peepi merchants and a few giant wheels whirring in the background. We were left with empty strings. It was only after selling newspapers to big bazar in exchange for undergarments we could wear pants.
So think twice before you try the place. We have weaker places like China and Russia. Leave Trivandrum off your agenda. We have got to learn a lot from here.
With lots of love