Friday, March 16, 2012

Rumble in Heaven

God was listening to Pink Floyd. He was fed up of hip hop and wanted to relive those golden days when he exactly the same! Dave Gilmour was singing—“What do you want from me?” and God could identify with this sentiment wholeheartedly. He made a mental note of asking the record keeper when this Gilmour fellow would die so that he could have an exclusive show for himself in heaven. His reverie was interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

He sighed. Only one person was allowed to visit him at this hour of the day and a call from him usually brought bad news.

“Come in, Monty”, he called out irritably. The man entered and one look at his face confirmed God’s fears. 

“What is it Monty? Spell it out”, he said slowly, already anticipating a long night ahead.

“Sir, The Joint Union wants an audience with you”

“The Joint Union?”--asked God incredulously. The Joint Union means the combined associations of the residents of heaven and hell. Only dead humans are allowed membership. Angels, demons, fairies etc. are not allowed. Normally hell and heaven unions are forever after each other’s asses. Only extraordinary circumstances bring them together. For example, a few years back they came together and demanded to see a Sunny Leone starrer.

What the hell happened now which warranted such a communion, God wondered.

“What is the matter Monty?”, he asked.

Monty hesitated. He knew God was not going to like this. But he had no option. Too much was at stake.

“They are upset over your decision to let the master blaster score his 100th century. They think they had similar chances of excellence in their lives, but you denied them the opportunity”

“Do they now?”, asked God. A wave of indignation swept over him. How dare these morons question his decision?

“Who is going to represent The Joint Union?”, he asked testily.

“Sir, as the matter is related to the game of cricket, I have chosen Sir Don Bradman from the heaven side. It was not easy to choose hell’s representatives as all known and suspected match fixers apart from Cronje are still alive. Cronje, as you know, has confessed and hence he is in heaven now. Finally, I had to choose both Hitler and Stalin from hell union. Had to choose both, otherwise another world, I mean, hell war would have started.”—explained Monty patiently.

“Hmmm. Bring them in. Let’s not waste any time”

Monty departed and after a few minutes the Joint Union representatives sauntered in. God looked at them with weary eyes and conjured up three arm chairs for them to sit on. Bradman sat in front him, Hitler to his right and Stalin to his left.

“Well gentlemen, to what do I owe this pleasure?”, God asked gently.

None of them spoke for a while. Then Bradman started-

“Mate, I always had the highest regard for you. All my life, I attended mass on Sundays and never spoke a word against you. I expected a fair deal from you. But you always broke my heart. You didn’t allow me to score those four runs. Then a short brown chap named Sunny broke my record. As if that was not enough, a curly haired kid from India scored a few centuries and people started to compare him with me! Me, can you imagine?”

God wanted to say something, but Sir Don interrupted-“No, please let me finish. This Indian chap then plays on for ages. He is old enough to be a commentator, but still you let him continue. Now, for the last year he had been shamelessly pursuing one century and people had finally started to realize who the greater man was. But alas, you have also allowed him that elusive century today. And look at that half bred pommy Nasser Hussain. He has already declared gleefully that I was great, but that joker from India is the greatest!”

There was pin drop silence in the room. God looked towards Stalin.

Stalin growled—“Look Comrade”. God winced, but let him continue. “I do not understand cricket. But I think this bloke has a point. I mean, I was about to purge my fatherland of all rubbish—anti revolutionaries, Jews, poles, Taziks etc. I could’ve completed my mission but you didn’t allow me to live.”

Hitler started babbling—“Same here. I had planned and built such marvelous institutions like auswitchz to get rid of vermin. But I couldn’t even finish 25% of my job. You forced me to commit suicide. And on top of it, the bloody Russians keep on dropping vodka every other day on my skull at Moscow. I mean, you could have given me a few more years, like you have given my Aryan brother.”

Sir Don sadly shook his head—“Do you see what you have done. Because of you, I have to share the same platform with these monsters”

Both Stalin and Hitler glared at Sir Don and asked together—“Sure you are not a Jew, eh?”

God realized it was time to interfere. He said gently—“Gentlemen, it all depends on constituencies. You know very well that I run a democratic system here. I listen to the majority. Stalin, let me start with you. You never had a chance actually. You and your lot didn’t believe in me. You never prayed. But the people you were trying to kill prayed to me day and night. So, you understand, it was only a matter of time.”

“Adolf, half of your countrymen and the rest of the world prayed for your death. So, you get the point”

“Now Sir Don, I think only a dozen or so guys prayed for you to score those four runs you talked about. Others didn’t give a damn. They loved you anyway. On the other hand, the whole Indian sub continent along with the pommies wanted Sunny Gavaskar to break your record. Again, your countrymen were not bothered about it, hence they didn’t pray for you. The same thing happened in case of Sachin Tendulkar. This time, all other cricketing nations including your own joined in the prayer. Because they wanted this guy to continue so that India keeps on losing. And the billions of Indians wanted him to score that century. So, you see, I had no other option. I had to give in.”

“Moreover”, God continued, “I have a soft spot for this guy.He utters the word ‘Aila’ so cutely. I simply love that ad where he says ‘Aila’ and eats a biscuit”

The Joint Union members were about to protest when a sexy lady in lingerie entered the room with a cup. One look at her and the union members were thankful to God for offering them each a chair to sit on. It would have hugely embarrassing to remain in a standing position.

Only when the lady placed the cup in front of God that the union members could see what was written on it. Suddenly, everything became crystal clear to them. Then they looked at God who was smiling like a kid who had just opened his Christmas presents. He took a sip from the cup and declared in a joyous voice—“Boost is the secret of my energy!”

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