Christmas Day, Geneva.

Finally the carnival - exclusively for heads of state - had begun. In one of the biggest auditoriums constructed in Geneva in the last few decades, leaders of nearly half the world were present. Some, of course, were more equal than others, and it was apparent from the seating arrangement. Leaders of some countries, despite being in Geneva, could not make it to the venue for reasons ranging from hangover to getting treated in massage parlours.

On the stage was the President of the United States shaking hands with the Sheikh of Oman and he was commenting with sarcasm, “Had I been the Sheikh of Oman, I would have gone to the Alps for skiing or got drunk with a whore, rather than attend such a boring conference.”

The Sheikh grinned. He tapped the shoulder of the President and remarked, “That’s my routine. Today, I am off duty and so, chose to meet you people.” The President could not deny the truth, and acknowledged it with a sheepish smile.

The Sheikh continued, “Mr President, do you know one thing? I can acquire an American citizenship, and can become President - at least technically. But you can never even imagine ruling my country.”

“Why the hell would you think that I’d aspire to become a Sheikh of Oman?” Jack Monty, the President of the United States of America, was visibly irritated.

“I can see that you don’t even realise that there is something better than being the President of the United States,” he paused and smiled. “We can discuss this - in what way do you feel your position is better than mine? Can you give me five reasons?”

“All the five are same. I am more powerful than you,” Monty retorted, “I can order a strike to wipe your country off the map and you can’t do that to mine. Can you?”

The Sheikh, having studied at Oxford, seemed to have learnt the art of diplomacy from the English and smiled slowly: “Mr Monty, you are generalising facts to cover the weaknesses that are specific to you as an individual.” He guided the President to one corner where a table, transformed into a mobile bar, was kept. He took one glass and sipped from it.

“In the current context, Mr Monty, you are like the table that is full of glasses containing all the different drinks. Ah! Don’t be offended. Or you may be like the man standing beside the table, if you feel awful at being compared with a lifeless object like the table. In either case, the glasses are supposed to be taken by someone else who enjoys the drink in the glasses.”

“To make you feel better,” the Sheikh took one glass and handed it over to the President. “You were talking about wiping my country off the map. Yes, you can do it. But, you cannot wipe me out. On the other hand, I can’t order a strike on your country, apart from sending a few bombers that can crash on a few skyscrapers, and kill thousands of people. But you very well know, I can order a strike on you. And I can make it successful, when you cease to be the President,” he let the talk sink in. “So, practically, I am more powerful than you. And why talk about strikes? Can you holiday for a month like me in Spain or Mauritius or South Africa? You can’t afford it. I can afford to drink and fool around for life. You can’t even do that for a week, for fear of losing your job.”

Monty lifted the glass and drank its contents. “You’re probably right,” he conceded.

The Sheikh continued, “Well, I am not looking to win over you. I knew you are good. May I offer you the position of my advisor after you finish your current tenure?”

Before Monty replied there was an intrusion in the form of an old lady who happened to be the Chancellor of Germany. “Oh Monty, my boy! Howdy?” she pushed herself up to the President and tried to kiss him. Sensing he was sulking, she turned to the Sheikh who, fearing her kiss, already took two steps back, “Shaky, seems you have already turned him off. You rascal, you need a spanking. Turn around,” she lifted her palm mockingly. Terrorised of being spanked by an old lady on the dais before live television, the quick-witted Sheikh smiled and moved away to prey on another group of statesmen.

Closer to the back of the stage, the Prime Ministers of India and Pakistan were having a private chat. “I was not expecting you to be present here. Given the topic of discussion here, it is really surprising your visit was sanctioned by your bosses,” Rameswaran, Prime Minister of India, with a coffee mug in his hand greeted his counterpart from Pakistan. “I arranged a troupe of belly dancers from Egypt to entertain our Army brass for a week in exchange for this visit,” Mr Baba Zarda explained, drinking from the long glass full of scotch. “How can you have only coffee? It is too cold out here,” he wondered aloud.

Rameswaran smiled. “Oh! This is in fact rum laced with coffee. You see, I am a teetotaller. I can’t be seen drinking.” He adjusted his robe that was flying in the cool breeze.

“Nice, with such a dress in this winter, you are really putting up a good show for the audience back home. Huh, one should learn the art of politics from you,” Zarda smiled crossly.

“Well, I have full length woollen pants inside the flowing cotton robe,” Rameswaran lifted the robe a bit to expose the undergarments.

“OK. Keep it down. Your legs are not so nice to look at,” Zarda replied waving at him to drop the cloth. He moved closer to

Rameswaran and asked, “What is your real task in Geneva?” He grinned. “I heard that you plan to be here for two more days after the conference.”

“So, finally your spies learnt their job. I have to check certain bank accounts. You know whose accounts I am referring to.”

“I thought they appointed another person as their accountant, after you were promoted to the post of Prime Minister.”

“I was offered to relieve my duties but being me, I knew the importance of remaining the accountant very well. Plus, spending few days of every year in Geneva is not a proposition that you really despise. Furthermore, why would I create my own replacement that may pose as a threat to me later? So I continued with my old responsibilities along with my new,” he beamed at his plan. “And one should not forget where he came from,” Rameswaran continued, “Also, may I know why you are full of smiles attending the conference?”

Sheepishly, Zarda responded in a low tone: “I am planning for future exile. As the old saying goes, I’m distributing my funds in more than one bank. I’m close to completing my full term in the office. That makes me a historic figure as far as our democracy is concerned. Hence, I’m planning for retirement.”

“Retirement!” exclaimed Rameswaran, “Your opposition is virtually in shambles. Even your mullahs are back to madrasas. You can easily win another term in the office. What are you fearful of?”

“That is exactly my problem,” Baba Zarda sighed and took a long sip from the glass. Wiping the sweat off his forehead, he said, “See, I am sweating even at the thought. I am not worried about the army chief. I chose that gay, and he loves to be screwed by young Africans and I have an endless supply of them. My worry is directed towards his deputy. He is eager to get himself promoted and not averse to the idea of kicking me out. He is a good administrator and has the backing of many officers. This is the problem of competent people. They are not content. They want more. At this age, if I go into exile, there may be no coming back for me. And my son is like the army

chief. He can’t control even a single wife, but has two. In a way, he is like your unofficial prince of India - he wants the power but not the responsibilities. Even power, he cannot digest. I don’t expect him to take over the responsibility from me. Even the Saudi royals are not like before. In current times, it is of no use going to Saudi again. I prefer Mauritius. Probably, in a month or two I expect a coup will be launched against me and I’ll live happily in Mauritius, while you fight with a more valiant commander for the next few years.” His laugh could not hide his pain.

Rameswaran nodded understandingly: “Let us see. With all these cease fire days celebrated and no major civil wars in any country, business is dull. Let us hope there will be a situation when you go on vacation to Mauritius,” he smiled and sipped the rum-laced coffee.

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