Sanctimonia Binocs, Bhubaneswar, 3 September 2025
Hark, ye perpetually drenched and utterly confused citizens of Sanctimonia! Our king, in a move of profound and unprecedented bravery, has embarked on a diplomatic mission to the Super Kingdom. His purpose? To gain knowledge on tax from the Super King himself. But there’s a small, personal hurdle: the finance minister of that great kingdom is a ‘she’, and our king, in his bashful wisdom, feared he might “fumble.” To avoid this royal embarrassment, he took his entire entourage with him, effectively bringing the functions of our entire kingdom to a screeching halt.
But destiny, it seems, has a sense of humor. As the king’s grand parade reached the Super Kingdom’s capital, a massive deluge hit. The meeting, which was supposed to be a dignified affair, was held in a room with knee-deep water, the king and his entourage surrounded by a variety of startled aquatic creatures. One can only imagine the sound of the Super King’s finance minister calmly discussing fiscal policy while a frog croaks at her feet.
Ministers’ Mad Scramble
Taking advantage of the king’s absence, our Sports Minister, a man with a singular lack of knowledge about sports, went on a lavish gift spree. He handed out certificates and prize money to countless citizens, a gesture that was as generous as it was misguided. The certificates got horribly mixed up, and when the bewildered netizens tried to get them corrected, they were unceremoniously shooed away, their promised prize money revealed as nothing more than a big, wet pau faux.
Meanwhile, our Urban Minister, a man whose ambition knows no bounds, saw the flood and immediately seized the opportunity. He swiftly decreed that in the coming days, he would install a powerful radar to predict weather conditions for the king’s future royal tours. Never mind that the citizens need functioning roads right now; the minister’s focus is on ensuring the king’s footwear remains dry.
The Netizens’ Financial Fear
In this climate of utter chaos, a new, unsettling rumor has taken hold. A massive expansion of the capital is planned, with hundreds of acres of land allotted for modernisation. The netizens, however, are filled with a new and profound dread. With the current rainfall, their roads are already peeling off like an old royal painting. If the capital expands, what will happen to the new roads? Who will repair them? Will there be more taxes to pay for this new, glorified pothole-palooza? And will the cost of their daily vegetables and milk go even higher?
The common folk are caught between the spectacle of their leaders’ follies and the grim reality of their own wallets. They can only look to the sky, worried about the rain, the roads, and the rising cost of living, with their prayers a desperate plea to the Holy Triad for a kingdom that makes sense again.
