The other day I ran into my school buddy Chandramouliswamy at one of the capital's cocktail parties. I was a little surprised to see him, because he was a dropout. Clearly, he was doing well for himself now. Before getting into his Mercedes he stopped for a moment and chatted about old times and buddies. He also asked me over to his ashram.I called upon him the following Saturday. The nameplate "Chandramouliswamy IAS" nonplussed me. I had got into the civil service, albeit as a footboard passenger, and I knew there was no question of his also having made it to the heaven-born service. Then my eye was caught by the number of parked cars with lots of gun-toting Black Cats. As I entered his room I saw a khadi-clad neta stretching his palm out. The swamy was lost in thought. With his eyes closed he droned: "The khaini-chewing humble Uriah has kept the cap at the feet of the wrong woman; the old man was in a hurry. No amount of obeisance to the daughter will do. He will pay for this fauxpas. There are no feringhees; all of us are from the same stock except the Dravidians, according to a Jain Judge. Indians have no prejudice against any language. Election speeches in Tamil Nadu could be in a smattering of Hindi garnished with Tamil or, for that matter. in Italian. And the converse in UP. It makes for national integration. "The party can engage a ventriloquist while a woman may appear to be reading. Friends, Romans, not excluding a Quattrocchi and countrymen wouldn't mind.""If you are a Roman Catholic you are catholic in outlook and not communal. Inquisition is a matter of history. And one is secular so long as one accepts in any currency - be it Lira or Swiss Franc or greenbacks - without discrimination. With onions selling at Rs 28 per kilo one could promise onion capsicum pizzas to the masses with a Bofors burger thrown in. Gucci shoes for the poor and Italian as the official language. Bungalow in Lodi Estate at subsidised rates to solve the housing problem with Italian marblein the bathrooms; drinking water needs could be met by Campari."As the man was leaving after the dramatic monologue ended the swamy advised him to go in for a strategic alliance with the CBI. Had the neta heard aright? He enquired of the swamy whether he meant the CPI. Swamiji was outraged. A pseudo-intellectual with the trademark harassed look entered. He was from the India International Centre. The pseudo was worried. Fair-weather friends at the IIC could not be relied upon, now that the PM was in his mandatory overs. Gujral was looking for a safe berth. "Swamiji, we need your blessings and advice. Should it be Jalandhar or Jehanabad?" The swamy was sympathetic. "It would be risky to rely upon the wily Yadav. Jalandhar could be bought by the Punjab da puttar." The swamy finally threw out the IIC ambassador, saying that Gujral sculpture was better than the Gujral doctrine. For the saffron-clad politician who followed him, the swamy had a revelation: the mandir does not help relievehousing shortages.Over lunch, I found him slipping into a reminiscent mood. No good at studies, he had been determined to do well. Early in life, he had realised that civil servants retire at 58 while professionals mature and prosper late. Empanelment, as he put it, starts at 60-plus. That is why he got into the IAS. I couldn't fathom that till he spelt it out: "India Astrological Service!" He had entered into a strategic pre-poll alliance with the EC. All exit polls were banned and the politicians made a beeline to him. He farmed out his business among his disciples. There were calculated and inspired leaks of the prospects of politicians and parties.As I got up to leave I asked him about the outcome of the election. He was surprised at my naivete. Quickly gathering his wits, he took a cheap dig at hung Parliaments, "Some of them deserve to be hung," he said.
