The Commies had a feast and Karat danced the night away with his comrades eating delicious Chinese food. The Indians had a feast and they killed each other in one night deciding if they would make north or south indian food. And then the Italian chef smiled at the fools.

Babaji became heir apparent, he represented the youth as he grew older. He was a champion of the new born baby even if he were to turn a hundred he claimed. Until then he would eat delicious pastas made by his mother the famous Italian chef.

The Iron man started to work out when he was past eighty. He wanted to be King he said, his balding head shone like his metallic body. He claimed to wage war against the fools and make the kingdom rich. I am the King! I am the King he shouted but sadly for the bald iron man Singh is King.

They laughed at the King, they laughed at the Italian chef and her Babaji when they shook hands with Uncle Sam. They cried for the poor man from their Mercedes and BMWs. They decided to eat Chinese food instead of the heavy stomached Italian food to stay close to the Indian people. The monsoons have come now and the friends of Mao are screwing them.

The wrestler grunted like a bull and promised to do away with English and Computers. We all will prosper as we ride on our buffaloes on the superfast highways. The wrestler threatned the Italian chef and called her infant Babaji an infant. The wrestler and his immortal friend bit the dust as they were left behind with their bulls on their dusty roads.

The summer was hot and dry. The wells dried up and the lakes fell short. But the Kingdom had a feast to decide on who would be king. Now that Singh is King again, the Rains come down, rivers gather strength and the tap runs dry…

The Bridges fall and the Cranes then fall like dry twigs, Where are you? O Shaktiman !!