:: Cyrus Broacha

Got caught in the ban, where can I exhale, Mr Ramadoss?

Cyrus Broacha

My good friend Shree Kunal Vijayakar or, to go by his screen name, Vijay Kunalkar was crying. The last time that had happened I had stepped on him. This time I couldn’t quite find any valid reason. Kunal doesn’t do the macho cry preferred by most men over 18, and the entire initiativer (in this cry the male tries to cover his face and sort of deny the wailing is coming from him), he in fact prefers to roll along the ground like an old carpet and makes more noise than a drunken orchestra. After pleading with him to stop, I did what any good friend would have done. I injected him with 30 milligrams of morphine, took 60 gms myself, and finally got him to calm down. But what was all this ruckus over?

Kunal, then turned and pointed a quivering finger at a newspaper article and as he did so I couldn’t quite help but notice how his finger had aged. I put it at roughly 144 years. The article was a lot fresher. It spoke about a ban, arguably the most popular sport in India after cricket, and yes much better organised. And what was the ban on "Smoking in public places". As I read the last sentence aloud, Kunal emitted a loud groan, directly similar to the expression made by the Indian Gaur or Water Buffalo when he’s halted in the process of copulating. Since I have noticed both these sounds before, I can only differentiate between them by saying the Gaur sounds a little more sweeter, even civilised, in his protest.

However, in Kunal’s defence, Gaurs don’t have to deal with a ban on smoking in public. Water Buffaloes, in fact, can and do smoke in public places.

But how close is Kunal to his cigarette? Apparently as close as a man can get to an inanimate object. I can empathise with his relationship since I’m married.

A lack of human qualities is no land block to getting close to someone, otherwise what hope would there be for Michael Jackson, Paris Hilton and Himesh’s former hairpiece. So let’s hear it from Kunal’s mouth, which in any case is soon to be unoccupied and may have to think of various creative ways to pass the time. Here is the content of a secret letter he’s asked me to pilfer and print. Part of a long and agonising correspondence between Kunal and the Union minister for health Dr Anbumani Ramadoss. Twenty-seven letters to be precise, some of them joined together, as well.

"Dear Dr Ramadoss,

How are you? Wait a minute, that’s a pointless question, obviously you are healthy, you are the damn health minister. Having an unhealthy health minister is like having a broke finance minister or a homeless home minister or …er sorry. I’m bit stuck on the minister for oil, gas and natural resources. Look Mr Ramadoss, I don’t mind that you are healthy, but trying to force a health choice on the rest of the society, well that’s a sign of a totalitarian organisation such as Hitler’s Germany or Enron or the waiters at the Piano Bar.

First you guys tried to control wealth, now you are after health, and just because there’s no words that rhyme with them Left, who knows where you’ll land up next. A ban on pointing, yawning perhaps? er… Scratching? Mr Ramadoss let me speak frankly, calling you Mr Ramadoss is taking too long. Let me address you by your first name, Anbumani, er… okay Mr Ramadoss my name is Kunal. I am an actor, writer, director and, up to the age of 14, dancer as well. I am a student of the culinary arts and have contributed to her growth with my twin inventions, the Vijayakar Sausage and the Carakunal Custard. Both eggless creations, by the way. However, I have one friend who I lean on, one dost who helps me through thick and thin. One guy who is always by my side, and that’s if you don’t count my manservant Mangesh, and that’s my cigarette. We stand by each other even though it’s costlier to buy a cigarette than to get a back massage in Thailand. Of course, once rates are on par with a full body massage, I may be forced to reconsider my friendship.

I hope you’ll see the error of your ways. Pull back the ban, and instead ban far more dangerous enemies of the public. Namely, Bombay reality shows, and politician’s motorcades which hold us up endlessly.

Shree Kunal Vijaykar

PS: U can email me at It’sMyBloodyLung Dot.Com Over to Mr Ramadoss