InJest is a satirical column from South First. Names, places, situations referred to in the satirical piece are fictitious and are not intended to hurt any sentiments. The column is meant to be taken with a pinch of salt and a whole lot of laughs.
Published Jan 06, 2025 | 11:34 AM ⚊ Updated Jan 06, 2025 | 11:34 AM
InJest in a satirical column by South First. Names, places, situations are all fictitious. Caricature by Satish Acharya/South First.
Tomasz Lewandowski, the renowned drummer from Poland and Chairperson of Musicians for World Peace (MFWP), yawned and beat his drum. And the meeting began.
A hand slowly went up in the group. It belonged to Geng Ding, a violinist from China. “The United States,” he said in a pained voice, “is no longer safe for us to stage concerts—”
Award-winning singer Blake Hudson of Florida crashed his Yamaha-FX280 guitar on Ding’s head, which made a ‘ding’ sound. “How dare you,” Hudson yelled, “talk such poppycock, Chinaman? Music is to my country what noodles are to yours.” He pronounced noodles with a wrinkle of his Yankee nose.
What followed was some very unmusical-sounding uproar at the emergency session of the MFWP on the busy Route de Malagnou in Geneva. The meeting had been summoned to discuss the safety of musicians in the world’s trouble spots. Deep Throat — as I call my source — crouched outside a window and watched.
Lewandowski beat the drum and shouted, “Order, Order. Go on, Mr Ding.”
Ding shook his head vigorously to rid his hair of guitar pieces. Scowling darkly at Hudson, he said: “Donald Trump considers himself to be a singer-dancer par excellence next only to Michael Jackson. He thinks foreign artistes visiting the US are dispensable extra baggage. He may push us into an Elon Musk spaceship that may leave us dangling between Mars and Mercury forever.”
Cries of “Ya, ya” joined a cacophonous orchestra of musical instruments, which shut up Hudson.
A philosophical look occupied Lewandowski’s double-chinned face. “Musicians,” he said wisely, “must stay alive in the first place if they must fight for world peace.’ He beat the drum. “I hereby place the US on the no-go list of countries in our latest travel advisory.”
Accordionist Dagmar Auernhammer of Germany jumped to his feet. “There is no end to the Russia-Ukraine war, sir. If we get on stage there, we won’t have the faintest clue when a missile will blow our trumpets — and heads.”
So Ukraine too became a no-go destination.
Composer Nureddin Al-Ayyubi of Damascus cleared his throat. “Syria,” he said slowly, “looks too deceptively calm now, but it’s . . .”
Chorus: “Yes, yes.”
“Syria too,” Lewandowski announced, bringing the mallet down on his Drum. Gaza, suggested by Yitzak Peres, the opera conductor from Israel, too was added to the list of avoid-like-the-Covid places.
Afghanistan came up next. Lyricist Pedro Michelena of Mexico revealed: “I have learnt that the Taliban is planning to murder visiting foreign musicians by beheading them first and then castrating them . . . or maybe castrating them first and only then beheading them, sir.” He paused before he added: “In whichever order they do it, sir, I think it is lethal.”
Lewandowski thought about it for an entire minute and sighed. “I think so too. Even musicians must have their anatomies from head to knees in one piece.”
“What about Hyderabad?” said a gruff, impatient voice from the back. It was Maruthi Reddy, an Indian Mridangam maestro with a nose wide like the bell-rim of a trombone. “Hyderabad—’
He was interrupted by Kim Yong-gon, a thin and nervous Taepyeongso artiste from South Korea with a goatee, who asked innocently: “Where is Hyderabad, sir?”
Reddy made a dash for Yong-gon, lifted him up, banged his head against the wall and dropped him. Members sauntered across to witness the crack on the wall.
“If he doesn’t know where Hyderabad — India’s kickass culture capital — is,” Reddy said calmly as he returned to his seat, “he has no business keeping his lips on a Taepyeongso.”
Brazil’s Hermes da Fonsica, a popular tambourine player, said cautiously: “I thought Hyderabadians loved music and biryani equally.”
Maybe,” Reddy said, “they love biriyani a tiny bit more than music. But they adore art nonetheless. But, gentlemen, if we put up a show in Hyderabad, and if a million fans come to watch, as they always do, and if there is a stampede—”
Lewandowski raised a hand. “I know what you are getting at,” he growled, adding Hyderabad to the travel advisory.
(Srinivasa Prasad, a journalist since 1981, has been a Chief of Bureau (South) and Senior Editor with national dailies. He has been reporting and commenting on politics, governance, social, civic and economic issues and has written over 300 satirical articles. He lives in Bengaluru.)
Disclaimer: This is a piece of satire and is fictitious.
