Sanctimonia Binocs, Bhubaneswar, 9 July 2025
Hark, ye long-suffering and perpetually bewildered citizens of Sanctimonia! Our king, having dutifully (and no doubt, with a sigh of relief) overseen the settling of the Holy Triad back into their sacred sanctum, now faces a new, more earthly, source of anxiety.
No sooner had the divine doors closed than our ever-sly Law Minister and the perpetually showy Temple Head Administrator, with a haste that suggested something less than divine transparency, rushed forth to declare the holy treasure room “up and renovated!” A magnificent feat, indeed, were it not for their immediate follow-up: “We cannot, however, promise the exact date to release the ledger regarding the reconciliation of the treasure!” Ah, the classic Sanctimonian administrative shuffle – a grand announcement, followed by an indefinite delay on accountability.
Meanwhile, a political earthquake has rattled the foundations of our capital. The “Kingmaker” – that enigmatic figure whose influence looms larger than the Holy Triad’s tallest chariot – has been re-elected as party president! Immediately, our capital city has erupted in a veritable saffron explosion, every street corner, every billboard, every stray cow adorned in the party’s ubiquitous hue. Our king, however, is not celebrating. The furrows on his brow deepen with each passing saffron flag; he had clearly never expected the Kingmaker to reclaim his throne.
The palace, usually a hive of sycophantic activity, has become eerily quiet. Except for one lone ally of the Kingmaker, all others who once clamored for the king’s attention are now conspicuously absent, purposefully hiding like frightened squirrels after a sudden storm. The king, sensing the shifting sands of power, has even given a discreet “slip” to his holy chopper, ordering it to be ready. Alas, the chopper, in a twist of typical Sanctimonian irony, is currently stranded in the Kingmaker’s own land of Kendrapada, perhaps awaiting a royal ransom or a new set of political propellers.
The netizens, ever resilient and prone to finding humor in their plight, have found a new obsession: the airport. They are making a veritable beeline, not for flights, but to receive the Jester, whose return from his health sojourn is eagerly anticipated. In their excitement, they have even forgotten about the “double engine” government, a political slogan that has now, in a delightful pun on the letter ‘M’ (for money, perhaps?), mysteriously grown into a “triple engine”! Oh, my beloved capital city, where political slogans multiply faster than uncollected garbage.
And speaking of uncollected garbage, the road to the zoo, a cherished destination for our children, has been completely flooded due to continuous rain. Our little ones, yearning for a glimpse of exotic creatures, know not how to reach their destination. God save the country, indeed, from such a confluence of political intrigue, administrative incompetence, and literal floods. And as for the sulking Law Minister and the Tall Brutus (whoever he may be in this ever-shifting drama)? Their next move remains shrouded in mystery, but one can be sure it will add another layer of confusion to Sanctimonia’s already bewildering existence.
