If Only A Man Could Spit His

Do You Know About Hanuman, Sir? He Was The Faithful Servant Of The God Rama, And We Worship Him In Our Temples Because He Is A Shining Example Of How To Serve Your Masters With Absolute Fidelity, Love, And Devotion. These Are The Kinds Of Gods They Have Foisted On Us Mr. Jiabao. Understand, Now, How Hard It Is For A Man To Win His Freedom In India.

A Rich Man's Body Is Like A Premium Cotton Pillow, White And Soft And Blank. ''ours'' Is Different. My Father's Spine Was A Knotted Rope, The Kind That Women Use In Villages To Pull Water From Wells; The Clavicle Curved Around His Neck In High Relief, Like A Dog's Collar; Cuts And Nicks And Scars, Like Little Whip Marks In His Flesh, Ran Down His Chest And Waist, Reaching Down Below His Hip Bones Into His Buttocks. The Story Of A Poor Man's Life Is Written On His Body, In A Sharp Pen.

...the Future Of The World Lies With The Yellow Man And The Brown Man Now That Our Erstwhile Master, The White-skinned Man, Has Wasted Himself Through Buggery, Cell Phone Usage, And Drug Abuse

Indians Mock Their Corrupt Politicians Relentlessly, But They Regard Their Honest Politicians With Silent Suspicion. The First Thing They Do When They Hear Of A Supposedly 'clean' Politician Is To Grin. It Is A Cliche That Honest Politicians In India Tend To Have Dishonest Sons, Who Collect Money From People Seeking An Audience With Dad.

These Are The Three Main Diseases Of This Country, Sir: Typhoid, Cholera, And Election Fever. This Last One Is The Worst; It Makes People Talk And Talk About Things That They Have No Say In ... Would They Do It This Time? Would They Beat The Great Socialist And Win The Elections? Had They Raised Enough Money Of Their Own, And Bribed Enough Policemen, And Bought Enough Fingerprints Of Their Own, To Win? Like Eunuchs Discussing The Kama Sutra, The Voters Discuss The Elections In Laxmangarh.