Words: Conduction, Convection, Constipation, Show-off, renaissance, propellor, credit-crunch
Janardhan Ramalingam was a very polished man. Even if his name had been truncated to an ultra-feminine Jan, one look at him, and you would think he was born with a suit. Every Friday night, Janardhan goes out drinking with his colleagues. Like any other good show-off, he never quite talks about the wines. He merely sniffs, gargles and raises one eyebrow. On Saturdays, he goes out with the same crowd and eats meat. The secret however is that he cannot digest meat. His mother told him so. Apparently, it could cause extreme constipation. He pretends to eat it, but meanwhile, he actually was shuffling the meat into a secret pocket stitched onto the jacket.
But all this was fine till the credit-crunch hit. Many of his jackets were getting old and he needed new ones, but getting the ones with secret spill proof, odour resistant pockets was going to be very expensive. The technique of making these pockets was patented by just one tailor on Bond Street, and apparently involved a complicated process of convection.
Pocketless, this Saturday he finally was forced to eat meat. To his surprise, in contrast to the expected bowel issues, he ended up having a bad case of loose motions. Suave our Janardhan maybe, but he still wears his poonal. Now the sacred thread had to be tucked expertly behind one ear. An ancient vedic principle insists that the poonal is a material that permits conduction. Therefore, it must avoid all impure things.
Whatever high-flying suave gentlemen may admit to, loose motions isn’t one of them. And so it was, that he frequently ran to the club’s toilet. The other gentlemen merely thought he was rushing to check mails on his blackberry. Which is more acceptable. On one occassion however, he forgot to untuck his poonal and walked nonchalantly to pile some more meat into his mouth. At which point one of the diners asked him what the white threads were for.
Jan (wishing somebody would call him Jaanu like his mother did) told them that it was an ancient Indian ritual to ensure that the economy would fare well and that interest rates would be cut. It was a symbol of solidarity and a prayer to the gods of finance. The thread went to the holy propellor around one’s temple and sent power prayers. And thus the renaissance started. The following Monday, all of the financial district’s white gentlemen came to work with a white thread stuck around their ear.
But the pundits were wrong, and the markets did crash.
PS – Yes, it’s seven words. Decided to combine one three word request and a four word request. Phew.