Skip to main content

Bra Baba


Fiction

“A centipede is crawling across a road with a velocity of one foot per minute.  There are vehicles plying on the road at the rate of one per five minutes.  The vehicles are of various widths like bikes, cars and buses. What is the probability of the centipede crossing the road alive?”

“Nil,” said Rohan without even thinking for a moment.

Radhakrishna, the mathematics teacher, was stupefied.  He had expected the brilliant student to sit and apply some formulas.  What is mathematics without formulas? 

Radhakrishna had given the problem to Rohan in order to keep him quiet in the class.  Rohan was an ADHD student according to the counsellor of the school.  He needed a lot of attention.  ADHD means that, hai na?  Attention Deficit?  So the loving and caring mathematics teacher gave him all the attention he could.  He gave him all the problems that his knowledge of mathematics could create.  He was particularly fond of algebra and Rohan turned out to be an expert with all the formulas in the algebra that Radhakrishna knew.  It was then that the teacher sought the advice of Professor Miranandan who handed over the centipede on a platter.

“Show me the calculations.  The steps of your calculations are vital in CBSE’s value points,” said Radhakrishna to Rohan.

“Arey Sir, your question is infinitely more absurd than the universe which has at least some laws like gravity.  But I will solve it nevertheless if you tell me the velocity of each vehicle, its acceleration, wheelbase...”

Radhakrishna stared at Rohan.  Rohan stared back. 

It was then Sohan dangled a bra in front of the class.

“Alge-Bra. Alge-Bra. This is the bra that Radha Sir was trying to pull out from our balcony last night.”

Radhakrishna was saved soon from the classroom by the Principal who rushed there in spite of the obesity he had amassed in direct proportion to the donations paid by hapless parents.

“Algebra has become bra,” Leela shouted.  Leela had a particular reason to shout.  Her inner thigh had been pinched by Radhakrishnan Sir the other day for failing to get one step right in a problem which applied the formula (a+b-c)3.

Radhakrishna left the village the very next day bearing the shame of bra-lifting.  But his mathematical mind was more preoccupied with his ADHD student’s universal laws of gravity.  Gravity.  Grave.  Gravitation.  Pull.  Yes, everything pulls everything else.  Sitting under a coconut tree which had thankfully no coconuts to fall on his head like Newton’s apple, Radhakrishna was attaining enlightenment.  He refused to go to school though his magnanimous wife forgave his sin of pilfering the bra of Sohan’s mother.  The thunderstruck coconut tree was in the next village and it was superstitiously avoided by people.

A stranger passing by thought Radhakrishna was a beggar and threw a ten rupee note as carelessly as a priest who gave gratuitous counsels to devotees.  Radhakrishna was in too deep a contemplation to notice ten rupees.  But more and more people passed by and the ten rupee note extracted the devotion and more currency notes soon which Radhakrishna could not ignore.

Radhakrishna soon became Radha Swami.

Algebra gave way to the Vedas. 

“Those who are misers will never part with their money,” Radha Swami started his Satsang homily with a quote from Rig Veda. 

The misers opened their wallets. 

Radha Swami’s wife opened a bank account which overflew with currency from abroad soon as devotees sought online delivery of Radha Swami’s instant wisdom from beneath a thunderstruck coconut tree.

“Bra Baba is going to buy the Manorama estate,” announced Leela one day in the class.

The Manorama estate was soon razed to the ground in order to construct what Radha Swami called an ashram.  

Eventually acres and acres of land was bought up by Radha Swami Ashram Trust whose motto was “Trust, isn’t that everything?”

Only Leela and Sohan and their friends referred to the Swami as Bra Baba.  They were still children.  When they grow up they will also become trustees of the Trust.  Let us forgive them.

Rohan still remained an ADHD problem even for the Bra Baba in his mind.  So the Baba appointed a corporate honcho to evict Rohan’s family from the village that was no more a village now...



Indian Bloggers



Comments

  1. You forgot to post a disclaimer that this story doesn't have any relationship to all person living or dead and all the similarities, especially with our so called godmen, are unintentional and coincidental. 😂😂😂

    Loved the muted sarcasm.

    ReplyDelete
  2. One of the best satires I have read recently

    ReplyDelete
  3. Ha ha a dark comedy. Bras are ruling the world.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Replies
    1. I was pleasantly surprised to receive 600 views the day this story went online.

      Delete
  5. Ha ha:) a wonderful breather, Tom sir:) Thank you:)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

Florentino’s Many Loves

Florentino Ariza has had 622 serious relationships (combo pack with sex) apart from numerous fleeting liaisons before he is able to embrace the only woman whom he loved with all his heart and soul. And that embrace happens “after a long and troubled love affair” that lasted 51 years, 9 months, and 4 days. Florentino is in his late 70s when he is able to behold, and hold as well, the very body of his beloved Fermina, who is just a few years younger than him. She now stands before him with her wrinkled shoulders, sagged breasts, and flabby skin that is as pale and cold as a frog’s. It is the culmination of a long, very long, wait as far as Florentino is concerned, the end of his passionate quest for his holy grail. “I’ve remained a virgin for you,” he says. All those 622 and more women whose details filled the 25 diaries that he kept writing with meticulous devotion have now vanished into thin air. They mean nothing now that he has reached where he longed to reach all his life. The...

I'll Take These With Me

  Annanya Gulia Annanya Gulia is a grade 12 student of Army Public School, Noida. A former colleague of mine in Delhi, who is now Annanya’s English teacher, drew my attention to the remarkable poetic gift of the young girl. I would like to present one of the poems here. Coming from a teenager who lives in the heartless National Capital Region of India, this poem deserves a deep look. The central theme is the value of lived experience over conventional success. The young poet emphasises that marks and certificates, often seen as measures of achievement, are not what endure. Instead, intangible qualities such as kindness, resilience, curiosity, patience, courage, and the lessons from scars, form the true wealth that she will carry forward. Superficial recognition is not what she hankers after but a celebration of inner growth. What struck me particularly is the rich and vivid imagery employed in the poem. “No rolled-up mark sheets like battle flags” underscores the exaggerated im...

The Little Girl

The Little Girl is a short story by Katherine Mansfield given in the class 9 English course of NCERT. Maggie gave an assignment to her students based on the story and one of her students, Athena Baby Sabu, presented a brilliant job. She converted the story into a delightful comic strip. Mansfield tells the story of Kezia who is the eponymous little girl. Kezia is scared of her father who wields a lot of control on the entire family. She is punished severely for an unwitting mistake which makes her even more scared of her father. Her grandmother is fond of her and is her emotional succour. The grandmother is away from home one day with Kezia's mother who is hospitalised. Kezia gets her usual nightmare and is terrified. There is no one at home to console her except her father from whom she does not expect any consolation. But the father rises to the occasion and lets the little girl sleep beside him that night. She rests her head on her father's chest and can feel his heart...

Maveli in the Pothole Republic

Illustration by Copilot Designer I was trying to navigate the moonscape they call a ‘national highway’ when my shoe vanished into a crater big enough to host the G20 summit. Out of it rose a tall figure, crowned and regal, though with a slight limp. “Maveli!” I exclaimed. “Yes,” he said grimly. “Your roads are terrible. I thought the netherworld was bad, but this—this is hell on asphalt.” I helped him up. “Don’t worry, Maveli, our leaders say we’re heading toward becoming a global economic superpower. See, even Donald Trump is impotent before our might.”   Maveli frowned. “Yes, yes. I saw your leader guffawing in the company of Putin and Xi Jinping. When he’s in the company of world leaders, he behaves like a little boy who’s got his coveted toy.” “Are you a little jealous of him, Maveli?” I asked. “I have reasons to be, but I’m not. Let him enjoy his limelight. A day will come when history will put its merciless foot on his head and send him to his own Patala.” Tha...