New Business

I and my cousin have started a new business. We kidnap cute kittens off the streets and sell them on the internet. It is fantastic. The first kitten we sold was for twenty six thousand rupees where our cost was just thirty rupees if we considered the auto fare. An equally cute woman in her thirties bought it. It is crazy, but we broke even within an hour of starting the business.

We went to meet Babuji Smartass. He said we can not use the word ‘kidnap’. We are sourcing these, giving the cats shelter, we were told to speak. It would give a nice socially benevolent touch to the business he said. He also asked us to check if the cats have any rights we should know about. My cousin does not like cat rights and I do not like cats. They do not like the fact that they are smaller. Had they been as big as dogs, they’d have surely hatched a plan to get some of theirs to democratically live in Rashtrapati Bhawan.

Babuji Smartass also wanted a cat, for free. He said we should write a business plan so that we could set up a cat breading facility. We don’t have to kidnap each and every kitten, he said. Sure man, my cousin let him know.

The business is good. While working too much with cats, I think we too have become a bit cuter. My cousin says the cats talk to him. I understand. He has been spending much time with the clients. There are so many ladies who have found a Superman in him for rescuing free cats. I am astonished how the cats never tell him otherwise.

After much heated discussion over what could be a good advertisement for us, I put the posters of Cats’ Jurassic Park everywhere. Some people find a jurassic pussy very funny. When the kingdom comes, they’ll be the first to die. Chill man, my cousin lets me know, that this kitten meat is amazing. Apparently Babuji Smartass cooked it. Try some man, he tells me again. I'm planning to go off the grid for kingdom come.

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Babuji Smartass

The Indian Psychiatric Society has recently announced a strange new illness. They have termed it as a historic development in the field of psychiatry. The illness, based upon the name of the first person diagnosed, has been called BSC – The Babuji Smartass Complex. 

 

Babuji Smartass was an Investment Analyst in a venture capital firm. There were two women in his life – his wife and her sister. They both lived away from each other, but they both lived with Babuji Smartass. And Babuji Smartass lived with no one but himself.

There was a repelling magnet in his charming aura which made him mysterious to everyone. He himself was addicted to it. Whenever his mind found him to be happy, it promptly created imagery suitable to turn him distant. Not everyone could fathom it. People thought that it was a kind of loneliness that poets write about. But it was not the case and only Babuji Smartass knew so.

The problem for Babuji Smartass began when his office computer was intercepted by the cyber crime police for planning an attack on a famous historical mosque of the city – because, as he mentioned in his chats – there were terrorists hiding underneath the mosque. Police was sure that this was the case of a raving madman. 

They had to take steps to avoid any accidental tragedy and embarrassment. So they put Babuji Smartass on surveillance, and that’s how the process of BS Complex’s discovery began.

Police was stunned by his demeanor. They just couldn’t categorize it. He was otherwise a healthy man living the life a lot of people dreamed of. But something was amiss. The officer in-charge of the surveillance was taken aback by Babuji Smartass’ nature. Babuji Smartass was an expert at delegating work. Babuji Smartass never did anything himself, but still, all the credit went to him for all the things that were done in his vicinity. He disowned any association with anything remotely unsuccessful. And thus, Babuji Smartass was a very successful man. 

Sometimes, he passed lewd comments on hot women passing by while he smoked cigarettes outside his office. He made most calls outside the office. Inside, he checked on what others were doing. Other people are working very hard, he’d often remark to other people. Think Bigger was his favorite phrase, hiring his favorite hobby, and politics his favorite sport.

He had hired a prospective detective to help him execute his plan. He was spending a fortune on this plan – the money he had told his wife he was saving for their own house – and her sister that he was saving for the divorce with her sister – the money, most of which he had used to order a lot of RDX from an underground online market, and for a later getaway to Hawaii.

A week before his planned attack, the police picked him up from outside his office for indecent behavior in public. He was then brought before the doctors from the Indian Psychiatric Society. Weeks went by. His wife thought he had died somewhere. She filled a police complain too. Her sister left the country. The detective he had hired joined the police.

Babuji Smartass emerged after three months, still as much a smartass as before. But people didn’t like it anymore. They avoided him altogether. And the parasite in him was frustrated without a society to feed on. Only his wife grew much closer to him than before and he too grew more dependent over her than before. He was arrested again in a matter of few months on the charges of killing his wife.

Babuji Smartass died in prison of pneumonia. But Babuji Smartass Complex lives on.

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