THE SEPTEMBER 16TH CHRONICLES- PART I

'SWAMIJI BEEJI' or

'the heir apparent!'

by cheiro edward cayce, donplaypuks® intrepid correspondent for numbers and futures forecasting affairs.

(PART II - POO POO to PP? NOT ON YOUR LIFE' to follow soon)








It was the late evening of a sultry, humid, hot, sweaty Saturday. Locals call it Night Fever.

A sleek, black Govt-issue Limo with fully black- tinted windows and windscreens comes to an abrupt, screeching hall outside the old abandoned annexe next to the Mariamman Temple, a stone’s throw from the old Police Sation and Chinatown bazaar where you can buy ‘original imitation’ watches, branded and designer t-shirts, track-shoes, you name it, for $20, or ‘ok, ok, what’s your bes pry, brudder?’

You could tell at a glance that the limo was a brand-new Prodana from the East Coast. The exhaust pipe was spitting sparks and black smoke and the mechanic was still under the hood attaching the fuel pipe to the carburettor. And the visiting foreign ambassador from Afghaniranqstan was seated in front, next to the driver. A mere $50,000 maintenance job for an August 2008 model; a steal of a quote at that price. The 100 Rolls Royce Silver Shadows parked helter-skelter all round the annexe could not hold a candle to the majesty of the Prodana. The driver, Thangaraju Velu MGR, gets out an opens the back-seat passenger door.

Out steps a fairly tall, burly leaning-towards-corpulence balding Man of indeterminate race and age, sartorially elegant and sporting a Marlborough Rough Rider College Tie. At $200G’s a year for just primary school fees, Marlborough was no place for even the average millionaire’s kids. Here was a Man harbouring great ambitions. A Man who had been denied his rightful ascension. A Man who had heard of a prophecy he could not forget.

‘Tenn Hutt!’ screams TVMGR, used to the commands and protocols of selective national service. ‘At ease’ whispers The Man as he alights on to the kerb.

Chief-In-Command 6-star General Rosemajibbed was a man of great composure under pressure and one not given to raising his voice in public. ‘And MGR, next time, leave your notebook, tape-recorder and Statutory Declaration forms at home, will you please?’ he continue in sotto voce, with the ghost of a smile hovering on his lips.

‘Come, come, welcome CIC Gen Rosemajibbed. You’re early, but the Swamiji is free now. Let’s go before someone spots you here. Follow me.Quick!’ greets Dr. Kenneth Chandramustafalot Iyer, as he turns and rotates the wheels of his super-deluxe wheel-chair with his powerful simian arms, into the foyer of the strange looking annexe.

The good Doctor K Chandramustafalot Iyer, a once visionary politician, was but a shadow of his former self. An office boy who had managed to work his way through medical school and then abandoned his practice, had, against all odds, become an real-estate entreprenuer-magnate after marrying the widow of his dead ex-boss.But his sacrifices had been huge. He had had to change religion AND race, impossible anywhere else in the world, but not unusual in a land of opportunity and mega-possibilities. And, when later still his political ambitions lay in tatters, he reverted to the time-honoured profession of his fore-fathers – switching political camps, forecasting numbers based on astrology, numerolgy and palmistry and priesthood. Like a story from some Greek tragedy!

‘I can see steam, smell sulphur and there is a fog-like atmosphere in the room beyond. This whole place reminds me of Delphi in Greece and the famous Oracle. Is that steam coming from an underground vent that perhaps goes all the way to the center of the Earth to the home of the Titans, as in Greece, Chandra? Some kind of shadow dancing going on?’ queries Rosemajibbed.

‘No, saab, the Bhagwan is having his matlock-hair and beard steam-shampooed for a new frizzed look’ replies K Chandramustafalot Iyer.

‘And the Chopsticks? Is that the Vidal Sassoon technique to get an even frizz?’ pursues Rosemajib, his curiosity now fully awakened.

‘Oh no saab. The chopsticks are for his lordship to eat char siew wan tan mee kon low noodes for supper, his favourite. But come, let me introduce you to his Lordship, the Swamiji Bhagwan Sri Bungunwashed Baksheesh Ji, founder of the Worldwide Howdeepisyourlove Free Love Society, School of Transcendental Meditation, 3 & 4-D Numbers Forecast & Predictions University. Everyone calls him BeeJi.’

‘Blessings and welcome to my humble pondok CIC Gen Rosemajibbed. May I call you Rose, by any name smells the same? Ah, good. Thank you. Do you want to hear a dirty joke first or shall we get straight to business’ BeeJi oozes.

‘Hmm, no, I am a bit rushed for time. So, I’ll skip the jokes. If we could get to the meat of it straight away please’ whispers Rose.

‘Shucks. I would have normally started with a joke. That one about the unicorn, the midget and the princess is damn good. Never mind. But first, you have to settle 1 or 2 things with Chandra. Ahem, Chandra, baksheesh?’

‘Ah yes, CIC. This way please. It will be $10,800 in advance please and two coconuts. 108 is very lucky number for us.’

‘You take cheque? And where the hell am I to get 2 coconuts at this time of night?’

‘Sorry. Andavan meethu muzhu nambikai; matravar ellam, rokkam!’

‘Whoa, don lah gasak (whack) me like that. I know I went to a public school in London. That was a long time ago. But you scholars! Translate please. Is that Greek or Latin.?’

‘No lah, Tamil. In God we trust absolutely; everyone else pays cash! And it will be $2 extra for the coconuts. But we do have a special 30%-off family rate with 12-instalments zero interest rate credit card payment promotion scheme.’

‘Oh, ok. It’s all in this brown envelope. Do I get a receipt?

‘Sure. Here it is.’

‘But that’s only for $1,000. What about the rest?

‘Don’t worry. We invented the 3rd oldest profession in the world. Accounting, Taxation and Biz Management. So, we have the 2 books system, And of course, your Coalition Cabal knows all about the ‘2 for me, 1 for him system’ surely? I’m also a qualfied accountant myself.’

‘I’ve been to Khajuraho. I think your people invented the 1st oldest profession in the world too. Not to mention the 2nd one also – the Brahmin priest. Do you know that Ken Arok, founder of the Indonesian Javanese Hindu kindom of Singhasari in 1222 AD, had a mother who was the wife of a Brahmin? Go Google it. Oh, and btw, which institute do you belong to?’

‘MIAICBMB.’

‘And what’s that? Don’t believe I’ve heard of it before’

‘Mumbai Institute of Aryan Inter-Continental Ballistic Management & Beancounters. Our Motto: ‘How much Tax you want to pay? You add. We subtract.’

‘Great. Now that we have settled the biz end, shall we get on with it?’

‘Oh sure CIC. But you have to understand. BeeJi will be in a semi-trance and speaking in a squeaky voice like the way Barry sings. For only $5,000 more + sales tax + VAT he can be in a full trance. Ok, please take a seat in front of the altar. He will be sitting in the lotus position behind the semi-transparent silk screen. For only $1,000 more + sales tax + VAT, we can change it to a fully transparent silk screen. Also, you can only ask him 3 questions, no more, or it may cause him brain seizure and epileptic fits.’

‘No. That’s ok. No need to change anything. I’m used to all these smoke-screens.’

‘In that case, fire away!’

‘Question1 . Will I become the Great Leader, oh Venerated BeeJi? Will the RAHMAN prophecy come true?’

‘That’s 2 questions, but I’ll let it pass since they are related. There’s no RAHMAN prophecy. After all, the first Great Leader was Abdul Rahman, not Rahman Abdul. Some idiot fits a hypothesis to not even a logical order of 1st and 2nd names and you all think you have a Nostradamus monotrain (as opposed to a quatrain)? You are confusing it with the ABRAHAM conundrum, which is linked by some to BRAHMA, the creator in the oldest religion in the world. Atheist and Agnostic are the opposite of Theist and Gnostic. Hence, by moving 'A' to the front of Brahma, the Jews coined the opposite Abrahm. Abrahm became Abraham by Arabic and English translation from Aramaic. And it suited them to have the ‘ham’ since orthodox Jews do not eat flesh of the swine. Whatever. It’s only words.

Abraham was born to create a new People by uniting the disparate, warring tribes. That you cannot do, I am afraid.’

‘You mean I will never be the PM? Oh, God! I’m screwed.’

‘I didn’t think you were that way inclined. But, no, I did not say that. Your question was whether you will become the Great Leader. My answer is, No!’

‘Oh, you mean the game is not over yet Master BeeJi. I’ll have every reason to go to the office in the morning then.’

‘Whatever you do, make sure your office is above 4th floor so you can see what’s happening below. Question 2 , please.’

‘Question No.2. Who poses the greatest threat to my becoming the PM?’

‘Aah, when I was meditating at mid-day under the shade of a tree in the orchard at the back to this annexe, a half-ripe mango fell just like that on my divine head and split in two when it landed on mother earth. I picked it up and tasted it. It was bitter-sweet and while I was contemplating on the transcendental philosophical implications of this curious incident, the sound of running water and a ditty 'I just gotta get a message to you' was playing in my mind’s ears. Can you interpret it Rose?’

‘Oh, running water means a stream or river and sweet-sour mango? It must be P Pauh. That’s mean my old enemy Sir Abim Obasama. Damn! Sigh, sigh, sigh!’

‘I prefer char siu pauh or better still, orang kaya pauh (pauh - chinese steamed bun). But, you are very insighful, Rose. That is a sign. In Sighful-ness may lie your salvation. Think deeply. Meditate intensely on it. Question No. 3?’

‘Question No.3. Can you divine the waters to see if Genghiz Khan will invade our empire and sink me with his court case at the ICJ?

‘While purifying the holy images in the compound this morning, a passing pigeon’s droppings fell into the holy water, causing it to foam, in which I could divine a vague outline of some kind of vegetable, a pot and a strange wooden instrument of some kind which I have never seen before. Here look into this holy vessel. What do you see?’

‘Ah yes, its some kind of a large, long scorpeneis submarine-like tubular vegetable or fruit.That’s it . A melon of some kind. And that pot is a betel-nut leaf pot containing lime paste. And that very long wooden flute-like thing. Hmm, of course, I’ve seen it down under. That’s mean what, Bee Ji, take another look? C4 yourself.
Genghiz Khan. Court Case. Squash, Chunam. Didgerrydoo. Hmm.’

‘Melody fair ringing in your ears I think. Time to uncork the champagne, perhaps?’ Let me jais check and see if unwanted intruders are around. Then we can share a rare vintage of chilled matues rose wine, perhaps?

‘Well Rosemajibbed, you have exhausted me. I can’t do anymore crystal-gazing tonight. A quick riddle. Another word for dentures? Massachusetts. You will have to excuse me now. Enough of jive talking for one night. Bye.’

‘Bye oh great BeeJi. Thank you. And you too Chandra. Could you please call MGR to bring the Prodana wheels over?’

‘Well, looks like you’ll be staying alive yet. But if you will bear with me for a minute. Perhaps you would like to sign up for our ‘BeeJi's Direct LineTo God' Loyalty Programme? For every 3 consultations, you get 1 free with 2 bonus question thrown in. Annual membership fee is only $50 for a chip-based card and the starter kit includes the book, ‘Feng Shui vs Vaastu’ by Lily Two’s A Crowd and you get redeemable points for using your card at any 4-D outlet. Interested?’

‘Well, give all the forms to TVMGR and I’ll send it back with the Statutory Declarations next week.’

‘And before you go, we must not forget the holy water ablutions. Here, tie this towel around your shoulders and just lean forward. I’ll wet your head, then you must rub on the holy ash on your forehead, then apply sandalwood paste followed by vermilion powder tilak on top.’

‘Hang on, that water looks brown and gungy. Where the hell did you get it from? It looks like the kind of liquid you get after it’s been filtered through someone’s kidneys.’

‘Ah, CIC, sad to say it is something very common in the City and Sell-Out-All State since that Japo-Peruvian, Fujimori Toyota, became CM. There was a time in the dim, distant past when you could drink it straight from the tap. Now without his Holiness’ blessings to purify it, it could kill you. Oh, the hair of the heir apparent is wet! But have no fear, you should be dancing all the way to the Palace of the Successful Prince! Ten Hutt!'

Dismissed!

donplaypuks® with my future, man!
Ps see how many BeeGees song titles you can spot in the blog.
rosemajibbed & priest pic courtesy of http://zorro-zorro-unmasked.blogspot.com/