The master of puppets

The incessant sound of ball hitting concrete did not irritate him. It was music to his ears actually – the boy was undoubtedly gifted, in more ways than one. He would definitely go a long way, all the way in fact. It was destined – and all this practise would only put the ‘deserved’ tag on him. Enough to appease the journalistic hyenas that encircled the family 24/7.

That was main reason for this sudden family vacation – to give him a breather, to gather his wits about him again. The king maker needed a rest and he had had to go to the other end of the world to get it. So here they were – and yet the boy, his son, would not rest. It’s all in the genes – he smiled inwardly. It was an indulgent smile, it was an inevitable smile. He did not like surprises – his whole life had been planned. He had always known what he wanted and how he would go about doing it. It hadn’t been easy. The convoluted, almost Romanesque circles he moved in had thrown up its fair share of surprises, mostly unpleasant, hence the unhealthy dislike – and experience had taught him to plan like a Chess grandmaster. Think three moves ahead, wrap your opponents into a warm fuzzy blanket of security, and move in – slowly, carefully and precisely. The boy had been a bonus – so talented, so industrious, so…lucky. The boy was his sole concession to fate – yes it had been fate that had dealt him this kind hand – there was no other explanation. The boy would rule – for a long long time, longer than he had. He smiled again – almost laughed. His thoughts had swerved. Democracy was the biggest hoax ever played on the most populous nation on earth. He knew – he was the hoaxer after all. And his son would continue this elaborate façade in two avatars – perhaps his son’s son after that. This empire would become a dynasty and he would be the founder. No one could have thought that possible 20 years ago. Times had changed though. His people were emotional even today, in 2025, when emotions too could be outsourced to machines. Who had the time after all? Today it is all about branding the self and everything else one could think of. Branding is business. Business has no place for emotions. Yet, his people were emotional. They would always be so – they always had been. Billions of them, their numbers combined with their atavistic emotions were his strength – their weakness. People who had two hearts and no brains deserved to be ruled and ruled they were and would be, albeit without knowing it.

The hysterical news reporter on T.V. broke into his consciousness. People had died – again. It would be tragic were it not so mundane. This time the riots had been incited by racist chants against one of the ‘home team’ players. If the effect was mundane, the cause was even more so – mundane and intricate. He could barely stifle a yawn – and yet he did; for it was a sad event –and it was good to stay in role at all times. Press inquiries would have to be addressed, banal speeches would have to be given, and politicians would have to be ‘pacified’. The Prime Minister, that brainless, lazy, disgusting no-good would be calling soon. The holiday would have to be cut short – but he was recharged, ready to keep the hyenas at bay again.

Lalit Modi, the master of puppets, called his pilot. They would leave in 30 minutes.