Nor any drop to drink

The better part of the Delhi metropolis seems to be in the grip of a devastating drought. There’s word on the news of people foraging around for precious water to meet basic needs (no, by basic I do not mean laundry… think more along the lines of drinking and cooking). Given that the mighty State Government has very few options but to grin and bear it, there is little that the tiny Kingdom of Tsango can do to insulate itself from the sorry state of affairs.

Now, all of us down at Tsango are a fairly resilient lot quite accustomed to all nature of adversity (not to mention perfectly at ease with the prospect of a suspension in all bathing/washing-laundering/cleaning related activities). All would have been well had it not been for the tremendous stupidity of other Queens (96 of them at last count) of the wider AGSHW area. A pressing lack of sense… civic, common or any miscellaneous variety. For they live in an advanced stage of denial and or indifference. A world where come hell or high water (or lack thereof) clothes must be washed, floors must be swept and swabbed, hair must be shampooed (AND conditioned, lather…rinse…repeat…lather…rinse…repeat). While the rest of the world and all its mere mortals struggle to subsist, this insensitive lot can’t digest the thought of having to survive one day without washing their precious undies. And all the drones who do their bidding must go about their assigned tasks mechanically… the malees must water plants, the maids must polish the stairs. Life goes on as if noting at all happened. Its enough to drive anyone stark raving mad.

The Queen (she of Tsango, not the other thoughtless witches) of course being of the conscientious (God bless MS Word, else I’d never have been able to spell that blasted word) sort felt it her moral duty to educate the dumb masses. Alas, like most visionary thinkers she is misunderstood in her own times. She must be content with posthumous recognition.

So she swallowed her pride and budding activism whole and retreated into her quarters, which albeit overrun by sexually hyper-active lizards and pigeons with steadily precipitating intelligence quotients is still, after all, home.

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There is much that needs attention. Some, like the unwashed plates and bucket full of dirty clothes shall have to wait till the liquidity crisis abates. But there are term papers to be written and exams to be crammed for. Conversations to be made, with Mona, Bob and of course with Thin Air. There are Georges (Clooney) to be ogled at and an old forgotten Kingfisher to be consumed. Naps to be taken (much oversleeping to be done) and movies to be watched on a doddering old laptop. An entire life to be lived in the confines of those four walls.

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My apologies to the Duke (he of Puke) for paraphrasing much of the content of a series of vituperative messages into this post. I’m sorry you had to read this twice over.

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A lizard climbed into the fan’s regulator about 45 minutes back. And it is yet to surface. I can posit a few explanations. 1) Overcome by exhaustion after a day of scurrying around, she decided to take a nap 2) Subsequent to her daring venture into the dark recesses of the electrical appliance, she has been electrocuted…her charred remains only to be discovered eons from now 3) The inside of the regulator is in fact the scene of THE MOST happening party for miles around. All of the famous reptilian P3Ps are there shaking their tails and booties and sampling scrumptious 6 legged hors d’ oeuvres…

Yes I have a lot of spare time on my hands, but if you’re reading this, well then so do you. So there.