Rain-maker Dhoble

                Combine sadistic inclinations, a lack of general knowledge, a studied search for old irrelevant laws, a sinister laugh and a bald pate and what do you get? A rain of misguided hockey-stick-brandishing lunatics, you say? Well yes, their leader, at least.

                Vasant “Rain-maker” Dhoble brings work to the Social Service Branch in the most effective way conceivable. The creative genius that hides behind his innocent salt-and-pepper moustached visage is a real delight to nobody in particular. But that deters him not! The sheer willpower that drives this man to incessantly hunt up those elusive, forgotten laws is condemnable...my mistake, commendable!

                The fighter is a man everyone is forced to look up to. His high-handedness besides, he’s lathi-charged against all odds to clear his name of alleged murder and continue as a shining beacon of morality today. This strikes no one as being gigantically ironic.

                The unique thought-process wherein invading the privacy of law-abiding citizens (or laws that make sense anyway) is considered acceptable, even downright necessary, is what sets him apart. In his impossible mission to show the power and activity of our preservers he stops at nothing. Accusing proper young women of prostitution because of his own ignorance of this world’s customs is just another day’s work for this young man. One can just imagine him blushing and muttering “Am I (MI)?” Cruise would probably choke at this reference.

                One can only imagine how over-stressed his limited mental faculties must be thinking up day-in and day-out which loopholes in our laws to exploit this time. They seem to be his friends, almost inviting him into every bar or nightclub there is and charging everyone present with drunken behavior. A startling image fills our mind wherein Rain-maker whirls around with a wildly happy look on his face and magically shuts off music and all activity besides chaining all his victims to the bar. One wishes he’d spontaneously combust with the sheer velocity of his rotation.

                But all our wishes to the heavens seem to bounce off him, and giddy as he may be with all that turning about, drunken he is vociferously not. Harassment charges have not yet reached his khaki-cloaked existence, and one dares not wish again.

                That he is a rave on Twitter seems to leave him publicly unfazed, and privately in moral dilemma, it is imagined. One does not often arrest oneself, and his unbelievable lack of common knowledge may leave him wondering at the best possible route by road to this Twitter place and how best to hush up all this nonsense about him. Nobody around him has either the guts or awareness to enlighten him. Or perhaps it’s his enormous stick that scares them.

                Anyway, party-goers are now in awful danger of developing a permanent crick in their necks from all that glancing over their shoulders. Doctors are increasingly worried about this threatening to become an epidemic. This impact on society has the incredibly sensitive Dhoble in splits and musings about his own greatness. Hold him in the tiniest bit of respect we owe every fellow human? As there are doubts as to the authenticity of that statement, I’m going to have to take a rain-check on that.