The best explanation for why India was put through demonetisation
On November 8, 2016, as I was watching the election results in the United States of Armoury, where Agent Orange fibbed his way to power, his fellow fibber appeared on TV and said a defoliation of another kind will happen in the Republic of Nutraj. The supreme fibber, NoRainDrought Toddy, said that my 500 and 1,000 notes will help grease the latest cranking machine in the scary house called Demon Dungeon. I thought it was a fib.
But I recalled that around October 11 one of his sidekicks, the leader of my southern satrap, Candy Baby Naidoo had a premonition about it and suggested that the 500 and 1,000 notes grease the Demon Dungeon. Even though Candy Baby Naidoo looks a lot like my favourite character, Supandi and even thinks like him, he has a dark past. Like Kattappa had stabbed Baahubali, Candy Baby in the 1990s stabbed the founder of his horse trading firm, Rockstar Rama Rao and occupied it. And in the days between October 11 and November 8, Candy Baby and many of the sidekicks exchanged their 500 and 1,000 notes. Don't believe me that they knew of the 500 and 1,000 notes being defoliated in October itself?
Google it and look up the dates in the newspapers. Now!
Anyway, on November 8, when the supreme fibber announced on live TV that at the stroke of the midnight, India shall awake to swanky clean white money, all the sidekicks appeared surprised, as if they had just won a beauty pageant.
Soon, Dimwit Proton, (aka Psycho Samba), ran from one studio to another and claimed that Demon Dungeon is in the best interest of all. A scary house is like an injection he claimed. Painful but necessary. His colleague, with his ever-scowling face, Aaron Jet-leigh - under whose tent the Demon Dungeon was built - agreed.
"But sir, how can it be beneficial? Also, how are we going to supply so many new notes to people if they gave it all for the Demon Dungeon?"
"Do what we always do," said Jet-leigh. "Go fudge it".
"But sir, how do we do that? What about the farmers and merchants? What about those who possess only one note? That too a clean one. Who will fudge so much?" asked the impoverished citizens of Nutraj.
"The citizens can go fudge themselves!" he snapped.
And so, we all went to the Demon Dungeon and put in our hard earned 500s and 1,000s. The lines were serpentine. Some made the supreme sacrifice in the queues. All our notes went down into a bottomless pit. No one knows how much was put in. They are still counting it, they say.
As we waited for the new swanky clean white money that was promised to us, we were given notes of a different complexion. The Demon Dungeon began dishing out pink slips.
"This is cruel!" protested the citizens of Nutraj. "First you take our notes and now you take our jobs!"
"Mr Jet-leigh, at least do some fudging." "Go fudge yourself" is all he said.
We looked to his colleague, the Dharma Raja, Punish GoYell for help.
He said, "I Punish. I Go Yell. You go start a business."
And then came a menacing looking man to attend to Demon Dungeon. He asked us who we were.
"Most of us are malnourished farmers. You might recall us...your ancestors' allies, the British used to call us Ryots…who are you? A technocrat?"
"Oh, sorry I don't know much about Ryots. My expertise is riots. But I know all about the Demon Dungeon. And no one in our government is a technocrat. We are strict. We crack the whip even when not necessary. We are techno-cracks," said the podgy bearded man.
Then, his son, Prince Shahzaada put in a 500 and got back wads of white notes.
"Demon Dungeon works," declared the techno-crack.
"But we lost our notes... how did Shahzaada get so much?"
A lady then took a wire and lashed him. 16,000 times.
The citizens of Nutraj then sang:
This is the public's ire,
Hail the lady & the wire,
The Government is on fire!
To pacify the public, the techno-crack pulled some levers and shafts.
"What's wrong with it?" we asked
"Oh, just a technical problem," he said.
As we looked into the bottomless pit to see where the notes were lost, the sunlight bounced of the bald head of the techno-crack and a strong beam went back into the firmament. Then a satellite descended and out came the Nano Angel, Sweaty Singh. She told us that even if our notes were a 120 metres deep in the ground, it can be retrieved. And she went down under. Meanwhile, some of us went six feet under.
We wondered who was down under, in those dark coal mines. Some whispered that it was the man who funded the advertisements to sustain this kleptocracy.
"Who is he?" asked a naïve one among us.
"Oh! Don't you know who funds the advertisements and feeds NoRainDrought Toddy like a Nanny?" replied another well-informed one.
"Who is it?"
"It's Ad Nanny. He's down under, with blood and coal on his hands. His is the Soot, Loot, Sour Car," replied the informed one.
"But what about the other guy? The darling of NoRainDrought Toddy?" asked the naïve one.
"He is not down under. He's up in the sky, 27 floors high. That's Antilla the hon, you're talking about..." enlightened us the informed one.
And so, it became clear to us citizens of the Republic of Nutraj. As we put in our 500 and 1,000, the likes of Ad Nanny, Antilla the Hon, Candy Baby Naidoo, Shahzaada et al made merry. They laughed all the way to the bank as we cried all the way.
Even today, no one knows how deep the pit is or how many notes we put inside it. Neither do people know how many pink slips and technical problems we have to face.
When we asked the Acronym General, Wonky Naidoo he just shrugged that this is NEW INDIA - Never Ending Witchcraft Inspired by Nefarious Demons In (dis)Array.
"But Sir, that makes no-sense," we protested.
"Neither does the Demon Dungeon. This is New-Sense," said the nonsensical Wonky Naidoo.
To clean the mess of the Demon Dungeon, the half boyfriend and full bonkers man took to Twitter.
"But Sir, the victims of Demon Dungeon aren't on Twitter," some protested.
Nevertheless, by then he absorbed so much of the grime from the Demon Dungeon that he weighed six tonnes. The smarter ones on Twitter called him the Che-Tonne Bhakth. He was joined by the usual suspects, A-New-Pumpkin Kheer, Airborne Cowswamee, SoHell Straight (aka the dolt and the beautiful) et al.
Just as the people's anger began to simmer, the man who stakes claim to the idea of Demon Dungeon, Candy Baby Naidoo - as is his wont - did a somersault and said it was a bad idea to build it. These days, he says robots will invade the republic of Nutraj and we must have more children. I have a gut feeling Candy Baby is actually a cyborg.
And they, certainly, are all nuts. They often promise us Ram-Raj. But our land is governed by these nuts - Welcome to the Republic of Nutraj.
PS: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to your demonetised 500 and 1,000 rupee notes is mere coincidence or a figment of your nostalgia of non #AchheDin.