A Big Bang for Diwali

“Namaskar and a Shubh Diwali to one and all,” he said, greeting his guests. “There are special fireworks for your delight. I would also urge you to try our Sushmaji’s onion bhajias.”

Since neither the fireworks nor the card games were as yetevident, I made my way to the corner in the garden where Sushmaji, the recently crowned empress of Delhi, was presiding over a smoking cauldron. The air was redolent with the unmistakable fragrance of bhajias, not the common cauliflower variety but 100 per cent genuine onion. They must have cost PMji a bomb.

“Come ji, eat, eat, while they are hot,” said Sushmaji, as charming as ever, while she wiped the perspiration from her forehead. “I personally bought these onions from the Kalyanpuri Mother Diary outlet — for Rs 5 a kilo only. I had gone there for police patrol duty, as you may have read in the newspapers,” she added, without being asked.

I must have hesitated for a moment because Sushmaji, with chief ministerial clairvoyance, went on, “Not to worry, ji, no mustard oil used, only 100 per cent sudh ghee. I may add however that the edible oil dispensed by our government is 100 per cent safe and will remain safe at least until the forthcoming assembly elections in the four states areover.”

Grateful for this assurance, I happily (and greedily) heaped the piping hot bhajias on to my plate. That was when HRD minister Murli Manohar Joshiji walked by. “What’s cooking, Sushmaji? Sudh ghee is it? I have always believed that sudh ghee is excellent for brain power. Secret of ancient India’s greatness, this old Aryan tradition. Marxist historians have deliberately ignored this aspect for their own nefarious purposes,” he said.

But before Joshiji could warm up to the subject, former Delhi Chief Minister Sahib Singh Verma’s Jat supporters had descended on the premises holding canisters of kerosene and threatening to immolate themselves and everyone else. “Madanlal Khurana hai, hai. Jiska roal kukka, uska bol bhi uchha,” they screamed in high agitation.

Uh-ho, the fireworks have started, I thought to myself, and beat a quick retreat. I walked to the other side of the garden where the blue-turbanned Akalis were preparing to send several rockets, said to have beenmanufactured in Udham Singh Nagar, up into the stratosphere.

Not to be undone, Defence Minister George Fernandes’s Samata Party jawans, clad in battle fatigues, were taking potshots at effigies of Laloo and Rabri. They had barely finished with this military exercise that Pakistan was not informed about, when a smiling Jayalalitha took out what looked like a large, onion-shaped object from under her cape. “Happy Deepavali to you all,” she beamed. “As a token of AIADMK’s esteem for PMji, we have designed a special (child labour-free) Deepavali cracker to bring some cheer to this festival of lights. Article 356 is the name we’ve given it. Place it under Karunanidhi’s chair, light it and watch the fun — 356 mini-blasts, carefully calibrated to do the needful.”

While this was impressive, the evening’s piece de resistance was just being wheeled in under the cover of darkness. Scientists Kalam and Chidambaram kept fussing over the various gauges attached to the shrouded object.

Curious, I went up toPMji’s principal secretaryji, Brajesh Mishraji, and asked him what it was. “We Indians aren’t children anymore to dabble in kidstuff like crackers and sparklers. This here is the real thing,” he said.It was then that I decided to flee PMji’s party — it was getting a bit too action-packed for the likes of me. Sure enough, as the midnight hour struck, a gigantic mushroom cloud suddenly rent Delhi’s night skies. With hydrothermal devices, who needs diyas anyway?