Telegraph Calcutta

In My Chambers My Giving Gas


Do not begin to imagine fancy chambers, no please. Chambers of pots more like it, the place where chamber pots are stationed. Now you can imagine all and any manner of chamber pots, fancy ones too. Things happen around chamber pots. Fancy things. Furtive things. Fruitful things. Forbidden things. Fuming things. Were you to someday sit down with the authoritative “Chamber Pots, A Complete & Comprehensive History”, you’d discover for yourself the astonishingly spectacular array of things that have happened around chamber pots, or in chambers appointed for chamber pots. Illicit assignation. Vile whisper. Plotting. Preening. Conspiracy. Incest. Assassination. Private violation of public facade. Such things and many more things.

And here it is too that the ThingAMagic comes naturally to be, the ThingAMagic that we have wantonly let escape us and been wasting all this while, until we were otherwise and wisely altered by TheOneAndOnly. Gas, blessed ThingAMagic, which issues from varied holes and is the key to all. BlessedHolyGas! Liberation of all of us as we have known ourselves. Wake up, people, smell the gas, it is issuing from you. Or will soon. Or if it does not, you will have to remedy the situation so it does begin to issue. Gas, folks, it must issue, or else you’ll get blown. In chambers of pots, that too has come to transpire; people have gotten blown. Too much gas that could not, or was not allowed to, for one reason or another, issue.

Listen. Listen carefully. Not to the issuing, may the Gods forbid, but to what happens as a consequence of the issuing. Big things happen. You cannot see them happen, all of it, or most of it, being colourless if you know your Chemistry, but they do happen. Gas. Gas! Tea boils on it. Why would you think Mahadev sits the way he does all day as he brews his tea? On his haunches, knees folded, spine bent, nerves taut? It is how it issues, gas. It is how the flames are fed. It is, Mother of Energy, please make them understand how it is, please do not reduce me to putting out this graphic detailing in a piece in a paper we expect families to read. On a Sunday morning too – a Sunday, the Lord resting, the clan all at home, face-to-face, together, nothing there to separate them from nicety and what cannot be nice. Gas! Gas issuing away. On a Sunday morning, with report, or none, but issuing all the same. Or some folks, many folks, in fact, are waiting upon them to issue. With servings of tea and bad news, with more tea and more bad news. Gas! Issue!! Come forth. Come forth in the name of TheOneAndOnly! For he has so decreed.

Or, at any rate, he has announced upon us that gas is a good thing. A blessed thing, in fact. Look at what is happening. What they are doing, that divine couple. Nibbling, you think? Eating? Indulging their appetites? Nah, you unbelieving infidels! They are making gas. It is just that we are a concern that respects family concerns, on a Sunday morning especially, and so we have a presentable representation of how gas is made. Eventually. You eat, you eat lots, the rest is taken care of. Gases get made, don’t you worry. And to think these creatures you see are foul. To think they emit too much and too foul once they’ve done the eating. To think they issue too much and too loudly, so much and so loudly that they’re blowing holes as big as unknown planets in the ozone and rendering us open to too much infra and too much heating. Bah! They so not know a thing. Look at these Godly creatures! At God’s own work!! They are making gas. Once they are done with what they are doing, they will get on their way and then, prrrrrrrrrt!, they will shed their blessing upon us. Gas! Whoever said they prrrrrreerrrrted too much for our good? Whoever manufactured this myth of bovine warming? Let them feed, more and more and more; let them lavish upon us their arts beginning with an F, more and more. Get the pipes! Fetch the cauldrons!!! Harness every ion of such divine art beginning with an F. Or, rush to your chamber pots, each of you, and find a pipe and find a pit. You’d have done our nation proud, and this world a whole pot of good.

Better it comes from you
Than some sordid sewer
Try hard, you are due
We’ll keep you from any viewer.

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