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Dilip Bobb 

~By Dilip Bobb

And so it came to pass that the Avenging Knight reappeared for the sequel to this historic epic, armed and ready to defend the country he so loved against all enemies, seen and unseen, anyone in fact who he perceived as anti-nationals. Eyes flashing fire and hair slicked back by a designer’s deft hands, Sir SlickSpittle set forth, declaring that there be dragons and the nation needs to expose them. Here follows the adventures of the boldest knight in the kingdom, or the Republic, as he hath named it. 

Sir SlickSpittle: Halt, who goes there?

Pakistani General: Lt General Besharam Khan, retired. Who wants to know?

SS: The nation, the nation that is behind me and urgently needing to know.

PG: Know what?

SS: Forsooth, you have cried havoc and let slip the dogs of war. Vengeance is demanded, nay urgently required. The nation is waiting….

PG: This is all Latin to me.

SS: No, General, I know the better part of valor is discretion, but there’s no hiding from the Avenging Knight, a.k.a A.R. Nab. I have nabbed you in my studio, and you will pay the price.

PG: But I’ve been paid in advance by your accounts…

SS: (shouting) You have been called to account. Two of our soldiers were beheaded by your army which is the Devil incarnate. The Game is on. A.R. Nab is back and no anti-national or enemy agent will escape my attention. You have a lean and hungry look, such men are dangerous and meddle in the internal affairs of other nations.

PG: I say, this is a bit much. I retired 20 years ago.

SS:  Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. It says so in The Tempest. That is also my middle name. General, the quality of my mercy is not strained. Can you hear that?

PG: What is that?  I hear lightning and thunder and there are flames rising from the screen.

SS: General, that is the crack of doom. Aha! Who goes there?

Shashi Tharoor: It’s me, a humble MP from Thiruvananthapuram, on my way to perform in the service of the poor and downtrodden.

SS:  Thou art a flesh-monger, scullion, destroyer of women, lickspittle, a murderer most foul.

ST:  This is deja vu. 

SS: No, this is your nemesis. I am the voice of your dead wife, the dear, sweet Sunanda, innocent as the day she was born, dreams and hopes unfilled, undone by your foul hand.

ST: I have heard this foul language before and it is defamatory.

SS: I am back, and the game is up.

ST: I thought the game was on. This is nothing but an exasperating farrago of distortions, misrepresentations and outright falsehoods. You are a knave, not a Knight and you will be hoist with your own petard. I loved my wife and this is much ado about nothing.

SS:  I am now here to expose the anti-nationals.

ST: But you just falsely accused me of cold-blooded murder?

SS: That too is an anti-national act. She was a daughter of India. In fact, sir, you are part of the anti-nationals who are poisoning our politics. You, The Family, that purveyor of fake news, Arvind Kejriwal, your scurvy companion Lalu Prasad Yadav, a plague on your houses. Mine is not a lone voice, I have a guest in my studio, Sambit Patra. Sambit, what do you have to say?

Sambit: A plague on their houses.

SS: See, everyone thinks that way, the nation thinks that way and I am not alone in my fight against the anti-nationals. Once more unto the breach. I have been away from my audience for too long and parting was such sweet sorrow. But beware, enemies of the state and wife murderers and molesters and all those leftist liberals living in Lutyen’s Delhi. I am back. The Republic is in safe hands.

Fade out with A.R.Nab’s angry face and background music from Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries.

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