Race Course Road..!

SUDDENLY we have won the respect of the world. People have started looking at us with new born admiration. Men on the streets of New York, Rome and even Siberia have started doffing their caps when they pass an Indian.
“What a wonderful thing this is,” say the poor farmers with joy as they look at the bank official who has come to ask for their loan repayment. “This is what we should have done years ago!” sigh patients in the hospitals of Delhi as they grin happily at doctors who find that their blood count from dengue and chikungunya have risen sharply during the night.
“It has given us renewed strength!” growls the chief minister of Karnataka, as he shakes a fist, nay two, one in the direction of Tamilnadu and the other towards the Supreme Court. In the nation there is much rejoicing!
Abroad it is the same, as Obama and his wife do a simple dance on the wooden floors of the Whitehouse, “What a wonderful thing for our close friend and ally!” he says as he takes Michelle through the steps of a new Bollywood jig he has just perfected. “If only they had thought of it sooner, India and the US would have been blood brothers by now!” “Better late than never!” coos Michelle in his ear, as Obama nods solemnly. “I must call him and congratulate him!”
“Here’s the phone!” whispers Michele as she disengages herself from the severe steps and watches her husband. “Hi there Mr Prime Minister, you have now won the respect of the world!” says Obama into the phone. “What did you say the new name was?”
“What’s the new name?” asks Michele cuddling up to her husband, all eager to hear what is being said. “Lok Kalyan Marg!” whispers Obama to his wife and they both jump with glee. “That’s going to change history!” nods Michele. “My wife wants to congratulate you!” says Obama, “Now you will be heard in the UN, with new respect. With this, Pakistan is finished!”
Back home in rural India a little child watches his poor parents doing a tribal dance, “Ma,” he asks his mother clutching his empty stomach, “Will this renaming of the Prime Minister’s road, give us more food to eat, prevent daddy from wanting to put a rope round his neck, help me get an education?”
“Ssssh my child!” says his mother lifting the little fellow in her skinny arms, “Isn’t it enough he doesn’t live in Race Course Road anymore..!”
—Email: bobsbanter@gmail.com

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