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Few years back, when Lord Emsworth had been invited to be the Chief Guest at the Indian Republic Day parade, I had been persuaded to accompany him to India. It was good to see the kind of warmth and affection with which my master and I were treated then. I had been lovingly fed and Mr George Cyril Wellbeloved had ensured that I never miss my daily rations designed as per Wolff-Lehmann feeding standards. I was even garlanded and paraded around, after some red powder lines were drawn on my forehead. Wherever I had to make a public appearance, I had been greeted and applauded by those present.

The new secretary of Lord Emsworth, Mr Rupert Psmith, came over to my den today morning and told me that yet another trip was being planned to India pretty soon. As a President of Plumsville, the Lord has been invited over to India, to preside over the annual general meeting of the Wooster Institute of Chivalry, which works towards the goal of preventing sexual violence and other misogynistic challenges being faced by the members of the tribe of the delicately nurtured in India and elsewhere.

He wanted to know if I would be interested in accompanying the Lord’s entourage. This has left me all of a twitter. There are many reasons for my reluctance. Permit me to share these with you.

In Praise of the Cow 

  • Indians, I am told, revere cows. This tribe of quadrupeds rises above the narrow confines of religion, caste and creed, holding aloft some of the basic principles – such as equality, freedom and fraternity – upon which the country’s constitution is based.
  • Cows have individual vocal characteristics and change their pitch depending on their emotions, according to a study done by Alexandra Green and others at the University of Sydney. They know how to keep asserting their individual identity all through their lives. It remains a mystery as to why the legislators in India have not yet thought of including mooing in their list of official languages. I wonder if any cow can comprehend my body language, my unique smelling capacity and even my oinking.
  • While pottering around on congested city roads, they enjoy full liberty.
  • Unlike billionaires from USA or elsewhere, they do not gobble their food greedily. Rather, they chew their daily dose of vitamins leisurely. Thus, the lining of their stomachs is almost always in the pink of health.
  • As long as they are in their productive age bracket, they get tended to very lovingly. Thereafter, their fate is determined by their individual Guardian Angels.

Given this scenario, I am certain that my popping up in the country in its present mood, when some constitutional and democratic matters are getting hotly debated, might be taken amiss. The cows themselves may look askance at someone from my tribe being shown the kind of attention and care I would attract. Sure enough, even some of the cow-protection groups might be offended by my sheer presence. Had it been China, I could have been more positive, since the Year of the Pig is yet to get over there.

Security Concerns

  • I learn that some protests are going on there. If these turn violent, visitors face an inherent risk to their lives and limbs. Next time Mr Psmith passes by, I shall check if the Lord’s entourage could secure protection by the Scotland Yard while visiting India.
  • In case my stress levels go up owing to this trip, my daily ration of 57,800 calories might get compromised.

A Drive Against Size Zero

  • World over, females of all kinds inwardly aspire to attain what is euphemistically alluded to as Size Zero. India, I am sure, is no exception. However, I am grounded in reality and have no such ambitions. Those who keep a track of my dietary habits already know that I am a hearty and boisterous feeder. Many of them are well aware that I live to feed. I prefer to drink deep from the fountain called Life. I do not care if I look like a balloon with two ears and a tail.
  • I daresay that I am a role model for all those who wish to live a blissful life without bothering about their Size Infinity looks. This is the one reason I would feel happy about visiting India or any other country.

The Noise

  • One thing I did not relish on my last visit was the crowded and noisy streets of New Delhi where everyone appeared to believe that honking a horn was a fundamental right conferred on the denizens by the country’s Constitution. Any restrictions on the same were treated with much contempt, as if their right to free speech was getting denied. I was elated at having been transported back to my own den, enjoying the bliss of solitude and regaining my sang froid, so to say.

I am surely on the horns of a dilemma. I am inclined to think that some tact would be needed to convey my concerns effectively. If so, satisfactory results may ensue, leaving me in peace to enjoy my life in my own sty. I am hopeful that Lord Emsworth would not like the prospect of my getting upset about anything, thereby running the risk of my losing out on a medal at the upcoming Shropshire Agricultural Show and instead being relegated to the mean obscurity of an ‘Honourably Mentioned.’

Flowers would then be in full bloom, birds would be twittering and trees would be swaying in a gentle breeze. In other words, God would be in heaven.

What would you advise?

 

(Illustration courtesy www)

(Related Post: https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/01/17/lord-emsworth-gets-invited-to-the-republic-day-celebrations-in-india)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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