Sanctimonia Binocs, Bhubaneswar, 26 May 2025
Hark, ye faithful and bewildered citizens of Sanctimonia! Our esteemed monarch, fresh from his enlightening sojourn in the super capital and still basking in the reflected glow of his “super mentor,” has returned with a new, rather… innovative vision for our sacred realm. While the looming shadow of that audacious, duplicating temple in the neighbouring land still casts a pall over his royal brow, the king has found a novel way to combat this spiritual plagiarism: he wants to patent everything of the Holy Triad!
Yes, you heard correctly. After a seemingly profound consultation with the super mentor – whose wisdom, one can only assume, extends beyond mere spiritual guidance to the intricate world of intellectual property law – our king has declared his intention to secure exclusive rights to the very essence of our divine beings. He has even extended a grand invitation to this super mentor to grace the upcoming procession of the Holy Triad, presumably to witness the very assets he intends to legally safeguard. One can only imagine the patent application: “Divine Aura, Class 99: For exclusive use in Sanctimonia. Unauthorized replication or spiritual imitation strictly prohibited.”
This latest royal decree has, predictably, sent the already frazzled netizens of Sanctimonia into a fresh tizzy. Their collective brows are furrowed not just by the theological implications of patenting divinity, but by the sheer, unadulterated administrative chaos that reigns supreme. “Does the administrator even know what his left hand is doing, let alone his right?” they lament, their voices echoing through the city’s bustling markets.
The root of this administrative anarchy, as the astute citizens have observed, lies squarely in the utter lack of synchronicity between our esteemed Law Minister and the perpetually perplexed Administrator. The Law Minister, a man of grand pronouncements and even grander ambitions, is reportedly drafting intricate legal frameworks for the “Divine IP Protection Act,” complete with clauses on spiritual copyright infringement and celestial trademark violations. Meanwhile, the Administrator, bless his cotton socks, is likely still trying to figure out which end of a quill pen writes, or perhaps grappling with the logistics of ensuring the royal pantry is stocked with enough of the king’s new favorite sweetmeats.
Imagine the confusion! One moment, the Law Minister is declaring that any unauthorized depiction of the Holy Triad’s sacred smile will incur a hefty fine. The next, the Administrator is inadvertently commissioning a thousand new commemorative trinkets featuring said smile, completely oblivious to the impending legal ramifications. The citizens, caught in this bureaucratic crossfire, are left wondering if they need a lawyer to pray, or a patent attorney to visit the temple.
Oh, God save this kingdom! Save us from the well-intentioned but utterly bewildering ideas gleaned from “super mentors.” Save us from administrators who operate in a dimension entirely separate from their ministerial counterparts. Save us from a future where divine worship might require a licensing agreement. The Holy Triad, no doubt, are watching from their sacred perch, perhaps with a mixture of cosmic amusement and a profound sense of existential dread. One can almost hear their silent plea: “We just want to be worshipped, not copyrighted!”
As the sun sets over Sanctimonia, casting long shadows over its confused populace, the cries for divine intervention grow louder. For in a land where even spirituality is subject to intellectual property rights and administrative incompetence, only a miracle, or perhaps a truly well-coordinated bureaucratic intervention, can save us now.
