I woke up with a dull, throbbing pain in my right temple, realising almost simultaneously with a pang that I had missed my fourth economics lecture in a row. Couldn’t have possibly made matters any better, or what was more probable, worse, therefore after having attended to the early morning niceties, I plopped on my double bed and propped up against the soft pillow, letting out a luxurious yawn while spreading out the progeny of the Fourth Estate that was the Mumbai Mirror.
The picture on the front page evoked several reactions from me.
I was flabbergasted.
I was jealous.
It felt like I had been beguiled.
A fucking iMac.
I felt as if I would get overwhelmed by the fact that he had bought one.
I, a staunch follower of the Maharashtra Navnirmaan Sena; I, a hardcore Marathi Manhoos Manoos if there ever was one; I, an ardent advocate of their aesthetic, Ahims-ic agenda; had received a fatal jumbo-jolt out of the blue.
The dots could be connected in a following manner.
iMac is a product of Apple, a company in USA. Its founder’s name is Steve Job, also from USA. USA, the country which boasts of rampant prostitution, is allegedly a war monger, deals with drug trafficking, throws its weight around more than is necessary, is aggravating to say the least.
It isn’t the aforementioned debauchery that we detest.
It is just that they are Western.
It’s just that they can’t teach their women to dress decently, and the respectable women in Indian households choose to emulate their disgraceful example.
Pisses us off.
The reason of my befuddlement was simple enough. If we went about blowing our trumpet of our non-existence of any sort of harmony with the Non-Marathi Manooses, including any of their property, products, money, women, alcohol etcetera, why the hell did Mr. Raj Thackeray purchase a Personal Computer that had its cursed origins in a Western country?
I was pained, wronged, betrayed. I dropped the paper as series of shocks rippled through my anatomy. I struggled to come to terms with the act and tried to ascertain why he would have perpetrated such a heinous backstabbing when the laser of realisation severed through my foggy cognisance.
No Marathi Manoos had, until now, indigenously manufactured any model that was even remotely fit to give the iMac a run for its money.
Succeeding this awareness came a sense of despair. And then purpose.
After a few hours of perseverance and dogged determination, I was ready with this product. Drawing a corollary from the tale of King Midas, the iMac had become as pristine a Marathi product as could possibly get upon my, a proud Maharashtrian’s, sheer contact of the hand.
Having the ditto configuration, the precise sleekness of its look, the specifications to give the same satisfaction, this one would make Raj Thackeray proclaim, “Mogambo Khush Hua!”
Priced at just Rs.1000 more than the original price of the iMac, I unleash the new…
Only one thing remains to be done now. Informing him that such a product exists.
P.S. :- Many a thanks to dear Rajjo for exclusive pics of iMah. The ingenious soul contributed a lot towards its conception.