Namil Tadu and other stories

Deep deep within the mystic land of India there lies an even more mystic place, if such a thing is possible, known as Namil Tadu.

It is ruled by Queen Bayalalitha, and it is about her that this story will concern. She is a popular queen, loved dearly by the rich and poor both and revered by her subjects to the level of being a God. Which she very well might be.

But each kingdom shall have its share of despots, and so it was with Namil Tadu. One of the queens aides, a bitter man by the name N Aarunanidhi, was jealous of all the respect and affection reaped on the Queen.

An evil plot hatched in his mind, to besmirch the great Queen's reputation, overthrow her, and become King himself. Unfortunately, the land of Namil Tadu was governed under the principles of hemocracy, whereby idiots not fit enough to drive (and I'm talking about bicycles), were given power to choose their leader. All this meant that N Aarunanidhi could not use his military might, his cannons and his foot soldiers, to overthrow the Queen, in a style made so popular by the neighbouring kingdom of Rakistan. Such things were simply not permitted in a hemocracy (motto: of the idiots, by the idiots, for the idiots).

In a hemocracy, to overthrow someone, one has to convince the masses. And what better way to do this than to bring to light certain unsavoury details regarding the Queen? It turns out that the Queen was fond of milk, butter and money, but not necessarily in that order. Money came first for her, way above butter, much much above. To fulfil her desires the Queen would occasionally (only occasionally you understand) rob from the people. A bit of money meant for the kingdom's roads would go into her private coffers, a bit of money meant for the kingdom's communication lines, a bit meant for it's infrastructure.

And thus the Queen kept on getting fatter and fatter.

The way she figured was: hey, who would know? But N Aarunanidhi did. He let a few others in onto his secret, telling all to the land's loosepapers.

The Queen was disgraced, humiliated. Members of the police came and grabbed her, locked her in the kingdom's prisons. Forced to eat the common mans food, caged within four walls, the spirit of jealousy kept on getting stronger and stronger in her (ig)noble heart.

Meanwhile N Aarunanidhi proved to be a worthy king. He truly loved the people, as was evidenced by the fact that he stole much less from them. He cared for them, sharing their joy and crying with them in their moments of sorrow. And the people loved him back. Truly and deeply.

But like my father used to say: once an idiot, always an idiot. In the next general welections, the people decided that they were tired of their good King and wanted the disgraced Queen back. Demanded her back.

And thus a convict was released from prison. And thus a thief became a Queen. One of the first decisions that she took, once back in power, was to imprison the good and true N Aarunanidhi.

The intelligent man may ask: on what charges? The Queen replies: Charges? What are they? Isn't it enough that my heart burns with jealousy and anger and prejudice? The intelligent man may ask: Shouldn't the Queen be concerned with more pressing matters of the state? The Queen replies: State? What state? Isn't it enough that my heart burns with jealousy and anger and prejudice? Fuck the state I say.

And thus the Queen kept on getting fatter and fatter.

End of story.

Now understand that this is YOUR country that I am talking about.

Run. Hide. Be afraid. Search for a different country to call home.

OR JOIN ME IN MY UNDERGROUND BUNKER DEEP IN THE MOUNTAINS