The fly in the White House!

I was in US before elections twice. As an outsider to that country....not having to participate in voting....I found the campaigning funny....the dramatics they play and many weird things they do. Of course they do weird things after getting elected also......

 

The post was created in 2009. If you were to write a sequel, your opening para would still retain the same news coverage. Gosh! Nothing has changed in almost a decade. Only Trump would find extra mention. May be, instead of Oprah, Ellen DeGeneres is looting the tear ducts of inconsolable humans.

There’s a factoid that Indians could survive in the most hostile conditions on the planet with their craft and artifice and driving skills. If Indian people can, the Indian flies nourished from the blood of such adaptation can stow away to Mars and still enjoy the volcanic bursts. Indian flies are unique in the world! They may appear lean and wiry but they are ingenious to fool you into thinking that mosquito nets and repellent mats will deter them. Back in the day, we kids used to huddle under a mosquito net to escape from the invading army of flies. We would meticulously seal the net under the bed cover and diligently create a vacuum bubble where only one human can survive with limited oxygen supply. Somehow, an intrepid mosquito would tunnel its way into the net. I have no doubt that Indian flies have screwdrivers for their teeth. What is swatting, or the kiss of death, to these gritty flies? They are smart and agile to not only escape but also enter as and when they command.

Whoa! You have cast serious doubts on this international trafficking of flies. This is intricate than you assumed. Have you thought of Iranian fly espionage on American human diet? May be the Iranian flies sent an agent to spy in America to evaluate the burger-eating dietary fad of the Americans. Would their blood taste better? How did you ascertain its ethnicity that it was an American fly? May it was an Indian software fly which smuggled itself into the laptop of an Indian hobbledehoy who usually trundles with three laptops. Software spies lack practical skills to survive in an alien culture. Or a dissident Chinese fly who aspired to taste Capitalism. How about the Ruskie fly's urgency to escape from the irradiation of nuclear testing in his home land. I object: how did you assert it was an American groomed cadet? I agree Indian flies are competent to wangle out of the jaws of death but how do these other flies fare? Enlighten me!

Cheeniya — Descartes will be cross at you for ensouling the flies. A good part of the 17th century philosophy hinged on his proposition that animals have no souls. The overturning of such stable insights by enabling souls in flies will shake up the foundations of Western Philosophy. For the sake of the argument, let’s say, our martyred fly had a soul, would St Peter’s Gates welcome him for this brave act or reject him for not having galled enough humans during this short lifecycle. Remember, this is fly’s eschatology, the value-system is different. Will our little fella be crowned the Lord of the Flies for this undaunted sacrifice or condemned to hell for dying in the hands of a petty human rather than be slain in a duel with another fly.

 

I'm afraid it has to be a woman. We women conceal the most powerful weapon behind those dewy eyes that no man’s brahmastra can combat. It is only timing …first the tears trickle as a reluctant Chennai tap, soon the unstoppable Brahmaputra floods wash the man away. When it comes to sentiments, vile, and histrionics, we women universally share an Oscar Award among us. Your species is doomed unable to match our formidable waterworks. I am certain that it was a sweet and salted plop of Cleopatra on the lap of Anthony rather than her ravishing beauty that convinced the distraught man to fight in the uncongenial sea instead of the favorable land.

Ok, I concede. Our Indian flies learn the bootcamp tricks by circumventing the zigzagged street lamps, escaping the sewage during rains, alternating the blades of a ceiling fan, overtaking a reckless human driver, surviving through bronchitis and other pulmonary setbacks induced by our pollution. By the time they reach the White House, they are as trained as a Spartan in the Battle of Thermopylae to invade even the mighty Persian or Pentagon army. I am slightly proud of our flies now for their doughty spirit.

I thought you would only engage me in our micro-discussions, however, you have enlightened me beyond reasonable doubt that a 90-year-old ninja Indian fly will shed its mortal wings only when it is disenchanted but not exhausted by the challenges tossed its way.

 

This blog was written in 2009, a revision is pending.

(A fly buzzes in the White House)

Trump: Who are you?

Fly: An Indian fly.

Trump: How did the border control permit you? Do you have valid a passport? How long you intend to stay?

Fly: I am a green card holder. I spend winters in India and summers here.

Trump: Do you pay taxes here? Never mind. What is that bandage?

Fly: I fractured my wing in the trans-atlantic migration.

Trump: Don't worry. I am unveiling a new health plan. You will also be covered in that.

Fly: Are you going to swat me now?

Trump: Are you mad? I need to recruit for my military expansion in Russia and the Middle East. You are hired! Report to me tomorrow.

 

Please don't do that. “Lot more to say” should never be suppressed. I thoroughly enjoy our conversations here.

Socrates via Plato is credited of saying, “An unexamined life is not worth living.”

That applies to a “fly” also. Human lives are boring! They can wait. But a fly's autobiography should not be put on hold. I am eager to listen to your analysis.

Snoopy visitors make it hard to type in solitude. They are always …”wat are you typing ..wattish wattish ...that Indu …”. (A site championing herbal cult where I practice homeopathy, kush?)

So, where are we with our martyred fly? Are we still debating if that fly was a disheartened husband who darted off to White House on a suicidal mission unable to withstand the rants of his wifey fly . “You never listen to me ...you don't love me...you don't keep your socks in one place” or a campus fly dejected in his fruitless amorous pursuits that he decided to fold his life by an exacting swat.

Every castle, museum and cafe can wait but not this fly’s narrative that you and I are piecing together.

We need to talk about this fly. Go on ..

P.S: The travel and visitors heads-up was to notify that I absolutely love our conversations and if there are any lapses in the conversations, that is only because I am challenged for a quiet place not that I found our interactions less enjoyable. More of ..bear with me ...too much to say..too crowded. I will sneak in when and where I can. I don't want to miss this fun. A fly's honour is at stake!