Sanctimonia Binocs, Bhubaneswar, 29 June 2025
Hark, ye long-suffering and utterly bewildered citizens of Sanctimonia! The most auspicious day of the Holy Triad’s annual outing, the grand chariot procession to the Gundicha Temple, has arrived! Our revered deities, with their siblings in tow, were ready to roll, their divine faces beaming (or perhaps just patiently enduring).
But alas, the divine schedule, like so many things in Sanctimonia, was destined for disruption. Our king, ever the political impresario, had seen fit to invite his political brethren from far, far lands – a veritable constellation of VVIPs, each radiating an aura of self-importance. And for their security, our monarch was utterly consumed, demanding that the head of security and the temple administrator prioritize these esteemed guests over the sacred rituals themselves. The chants of “VVIP first!” echoed louder than any ancient prayer.
The police, bless their confused souls, found themselves in an unprecedented state of disarray. How to control the surging crowds when our perpetually sulking Law Minister, in a fit of inexplicable generosity (or perhaps sheer incompetence), had seemingly handed out “holy passes” to everyone with a pulse and a prayer? There was no count, no record, just a sea of eager devotees, legitimate and otherwise, all vying for a closer glimpse of the Holy Triad. The police, usually masters of crowd control (or at least, crowd containment), were reduced to flailing arms and bewildered expressions.
The Temple Administrator, a man clearly adept at the art of strategic avoidance, declared himself utterly preoccupied. “I am busy cleaning and repairing the royal kitchen!” he exclaimed, his voice tinged with a feigned urgency. “And taking account of the stolen herbal pills from the royal treasure room! What is happening outside? I know nothing!” His devotion to domestic duties, conveniently timed with the chaos, was truly a sight to behold.
The Holy Triad, patiently waiting in their chariots, did not move on the designated day. Delays mounted, the sun beat down, and the crowd grew restless. The official explanation was “unforeseen circumstances,” but the ever-reliable grapevine whispered a more intriguing tale. The king, it was said, was waiting for a very VVIP, a personage of immense influence who had promised to invest heavily in the kingdom, with the usual commission, of course, to the party, the king, and (one presumes) even the sulking Law Minister. The other council of ministers, bless their oblivious hearts, remained completely unaware of this clandestine deal, their faces a picture of innocent confusion.
The netizens, observing this unfolding spectacle, found themselves in a familiar state of bewildered despair. They saw the king, consciously or unconsciously, adopting the ancient Roman strategy: “Make the subjects busy with gladiator fights so they don’t question anyone!” The gladiator fights, in this case, were the chaotic crowd, the missing passes, and the endless delays.
