Vanakkam, dear readers! This is your favourite uncle, Anand Rangarajan offering his jasmine-scented greetings at your feet yet again. Alas! There is no doodle or crossword by way of today’s offering – your ever forgetful Vaijanthi auntie has misplaced the two files that contain these treasures. But not to worry – your uncle will scour every nook and cranny of his humble dwelling and recover them in due course, I promise!

Meanwhile, through the unabated benevolence of Lambodar, I have for you today something that will microwave the cockles of your hearts. Believe you me, dear readers, what you are about to see is an exclusive to beat all exclusives! Frankly speaking, if Mr Arnab Goswami had got his hands on this first, I don’t know what Armageddon he might have brought upon the political establishment or indeed the Indian subcontinent. This is a certified 750 lb torpedo with a Deghi mirch warhead, and it all happened like this:

A week ago, my boss, the hon’ble Minister of Culture Chandresh Kumari, called me into her office. I abandoned the Bharat Nirman posters I was in the process of photoshopping and knocked on her door.

“Come in, Rangrajan”, she said. “How are the posters coming along – especially that Economic Outlook-waala?”

“Nicely, madam”, I answered. “I’ve cropped Emraan Hashmi’s smirk from the Jism 3 poster and pasted it on the worried faces of all those stockbrokers and financial analysts. Now they can be seen smiling contentedly at the industrial-growth and exchange-rate graphs.”

“Well done, Rangrajan! This would please the High command greatly. She has been upset lately.”

“Thank you, madam.”

“Now listen. You see this?”

“It’s beautiful!”

“Stop staring at the Lladró figurine of fornicating Spanish barmaids, Rangrajan!”

“Er…no-no, madam.”

The boss picked up a file and slapped it down on the Burma teak table. “I mean this, damn it!”

“Oh! Yes, madam, I see it clearly.”

“Good. You know what it contains? Food Security Bill Annexures – tonnes of them.”

“Oh”, I said, perplexed.

“I don’t know how it landed up on my desk. Quite possibly, the Ninth Inter-governmental Austerity Summit might be to blame – you know the one that concluded recently at Taj Man Singh…”

“Yes, madam,” I said, addressing the Lladró figurine.

“Kamal Nath, who is part of the FSB drafting committee, must have mistaken my Louis Vuitton bag for his and dropped this file in it while we were both busy meeting the Swiss delegation.”

“Very likely, madam.”

“Anyway, to cut a long story short…”

I waited for the truncation.

“Tell me, Rangrajan – is it true? I’ve come to know that you write for Newslaundry.”

Lord Ayappa! Shri Manish Tewari had transferred me because of this, and now the news had reached my present boss, too. A termination letter was surely round the bend and I started looking for it with fleeting glances at boss’ table.

“Stop squinting, Rangrajan! Just answer the question.”

“Yes, it is true, madam. But I can explain, I can explain everyth-”

“Stop blabbering and listen.”

“Y-yes.”

“I want you to leak the contents of this file to Newslaundry.”

By Balaji’s omnipotent lightning and thunder! What did the boss have in mind? Was she not aware of the Official Secrets Act? Anyhow, truth be told, I was relieved that at least I wasn’t going to be sacked. I smiled, for the first time in a long time.

“Yes, madam,” I said. “I will, but-”

“Just upload all of it – each and every damn Annexure.”

“But why?”

“I’ll tell you why. Ever since this wretched FSB thing came along, Chidu’s been looking for ways to cut budgetary allocations of all ministries so he can fund this scheme. My ministry’s going to be hit the hardest. As you well know, Rangrajan – who the hell cares for culture in this country, tell me?!”

“True, madam”, I said, eyeing the stained and grimy peek-dani.

“And amazingly, his admirers in the media, those so-called culture-vultures: Prannoy, Rajdeep, and Sagarika – they are cheering him on to take this step. They want him to close my ministry, can you believe it! Well, this would be my way of getting back at the father, the son and the holy Ghose.”

“Consider it done, madam.”

“Thank you, Rangrajan. I knew I could count on you. Dismissed.”

So there you have it, dear readers. Through the inadvertent dropping of a crucial FSB file in a Louis Vuitton bag by the austere Shri Kamal Nath, I have in my possession hundreds of documents that any newspaper will pay millions for – if they have that kind of money, that is, now that the birth/death anniversary season is coming to a close.

The contents are truly mind-boggling. The annexures run into at least half a dozen sets. There are politicians, journalists, economists, activists…you name them, dear readers, and their feedback has been meticulously tracked and stockpiled by our government. Lord Ayappa – the lengths to which our leaders go in order to enact a bill that will feed them! And the facing page of the report makes it amply clear the pains our government has taken to incorporate the feedback from our citizenry in drafting this bill. Here it is:

Lord knows, dear readers, this would keep me busy for months! I am starting with the politicians, but then would come the turn of the journalists, I promise. And so on and so forth.

So, by the powers vested upon me by my boss, I now upload Annexure A of the Food Security Bill. Here it is:

There you have it, dear readers. I do not know what fate awaits me as a consequence of doing public good and leaking the FSB Annexures. I do not know whether I’ll be transferred or shunted or dismissed. I do not know what will happen to my pension and provident fund. But one thing I do know and it is this: the good lord Ayappa not Vodafone decides one’s calling. And in my case, the lord has signalled that I serve humbly the avid readers of this hallowed portal. Pray for my well-being – you are all that I have.