Shivraj says People are God. One of the BJP’s core beliefs (there are many floating around these days) is that the Cow is also God. And Tharoor says People are Cattle. So look at the situation we have on our hands: People are God. Cow is God. But Cow is Cattle, too, and Cattle are People as well. By this simple equation People are Cattle too and everybody is God. (Childhood math: If X=Y and X=Z, then Y=Z)
So which God is insulting which God when Tharoor compares People to Cattle? The People God or the Cattle God?

If People Gods have a problem with comparisons to Cattle God, don’t we need to check how the Cattle Gods are feeling about their comparison to People Gods? I mean, just because one God can’t talk more than to moo and the other God just can’t stop talking to say nothing moo-ch either, should we assume that Cattle is less godly?

Ok, let’s not confuse a partyman brought up on ideology with science, considering that mathematics has never been a matter of priority in the RSS’s book of knowledge. But why can’t Shivraj understand English? Tharoor also said he is “in solidarity with the Holy Cows”.

How can the BJP have a problem with a Congressman calling the Cow Holy?
Unless he is suggesting that Tharoor’s rightful place is in the Cow-worshipping BJP, I don’t see why Shivraj wants him out of the government. Or does he think nobody else has the right to milk the Cow?
Just what is your problem Mr Shivraj?

(Of course, I might well ask the same question of Ms Jayanti Natarajan, too.)

Rahul and I have had a subliminal sharing experience. After I read about his trip by train I was so moved by guilt at travelling only by air that I promptly took a Business Class Air India flight to India (which is about a level less than a cattle car seat on a low budget airline) and then dropped my pretentious lifestyle by booking a train ticket to Dehra Dun.

I called Rail Bhavan but the Minister was busy (his PA to the PS to the OSD told me that) and so no delegation of high officials was able to coincidentally fetch up at the station to flag me off. Unfortunately, my message did not get through and there was some glitch (Jayanti Natrajan must have stopped it) but the sweeper brigade from the Municipality did not make it to give the platform a springcleaning and so I entered the Shatabdi after trekking several hundred yards of dirty concrete.

Expecting to see the security dispatch from the Home Ministry (which I had requisitioned) I was a trifle disappointed. Worse, no policemen pushed common unwashed folks aside for me to blaze a trail to my seat. I wonder if Rahul had to gallop past the throng from bogey to bogey to find his name on the flapping half -torn chart.

Twenty minutes of Treasure hunt went by before I discovered my seat and instead of six Black Cats my travelling companions were a lady with a baby, another lady with a child of six who was practising his debut on sa re ga ma, a man who belched, two paan-chewing lalaji types and a man on a mobile phone telling his staff how to run the office while he was away except he wasn’t away.

Reflecting casually whether Rahul and I had the same experience I realized we did. I also had my water from a paper cup.