“ Ladies and gentlemen, next on line is a magnificent piece of work dating back to 1977 A.D…. Carefully examine the intricate workings of the dull grey cerebellum, how it entwines and folds against itself in a beautiful labyrinth of intelligence…”
The auctioneer gingerly lifted the brain with his scalpel, as the anesthesia imparted from Gandhi’s bills muffled any cries of pain.
“3 lakhs ….” cried one, “3.2…3.6…..3.8”…the calls were coming in thick and fast..
“Ladies and gentlemen, then is it settled at 3.8? Don’t forget it has been honed for years by distinguished names...names that have lit up college alumni lists like snaps of dinosaurs in a learning alphabets textbooks…come on, there must be a connoisseur of such a bright mass of tissues? ..”
The ensuing silence forced the auctioneer to close the bid…after all, there were other parts still waiting on the operation table…
“ 3.8 it is then….going, going, gone…..”
..the hammer confirmed it in its sombre baritone. After the brain was bagged by a researcher looking for templates, it was the turn of the heart to be placed on the altar. There was a slight murmur from the man on the table, the sweet smell of pecuniary anesthesia seems to be fast disappearing.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, the piece de resistance…never mind the blood clots on the left ventricle…. those are mementos from old friends…in all, I doubt whether you would have come across a finer specimen of the human heart. Aah, the reticence I see must be a result of the green veins locked with the red ones…this is precisely why it is such a rare piece of work…not very often will you feelings of love and hate, satisfaction and disgust, loyalty and betrayal so closely knit together for a single entity…shall we start at …hmm...1.5 lakh.?
“That man had lust…would not pay more than a couple of thousands…that too, because the arteries would be useful for cradling my love-child….”
“Lets be fair man, 90 thousand would be a decent amount..”
Desperate situations, desperate measures…the auctioneer settled it for exactly a lakh.
The rest of the auction went off pretty smoothly, interrupted only when a child started wailing when its father lost out closely on the right hand…something which he fancied despite the underdeveloped biceps, because he wanted to keep the long artistic fingers adorned with corrugated nails. The happiest were the Prohibition Authorities, because they got the exact liver which they were looking for their Anti Alcohol Campaign funded jointly by the World Bank and Indian Association of Milkers. However, a fashionable lady wasn’t far behind in going home with good deal. And a good deal she took indeed, a malleable, shining, almost new spinal chord perfect for using as a hair ribbon. After the table was almost as empty as the auction room and the auctioneer was exhausted but happy with his day’s efforts, it was time to pack up. And the nurse cum auction assistant obliged with the ususal favour before enquiring –
“ What do we do with the left-overs , sir?”
“ Hmmm.…what do we have here…just the appendix and the soul …and both are raising a hell of a lot of stink…hell...haah, isn’t it apt that we have Cereberus with us to help us out?”
“ Right sir, the appendix is ok but I think even our faithful canine will not accept an amputated soul…he has been seeing a lot courtroom drama and blind army officers and raving Al Pacinos…”
“ Well, in that case, just burn it… and if unfortunately, the Bhagavadgita is indeed based on empirical observations…just get rid of it...anyhow…don’t want useless rubbish turning this disciplined operation theatre into a manger.”
The auctioneer gingerly lifted the brain with his scalpel, as the anesthesia imparted from Gandhi’s bills muffled any cries of pain.
“3 lakhs ….” cried one, “3.2…3.6…..3.8”…the calls were coming in thick and fast..
“Ladies and gentlemen, then is it settled at 3.8? Don’t forget it has been honed for years by distinguished names...names that have lit up college alumni lists like snaps of dinosaurs in a learning alphabets textbooks…come on, there must be a connoisseur of such a bright mass of tissues? ..”
The ensuing silence forced the auctioneer to close the bid…after all, there were other parts still waiting on the operation table…
“ 3.8 it is then….going, going, gone…..”
..the hammer confirmed it in its sombre baritone. After the brain was bagged by a researcher looking for templates, it was the turn of the heart to be placed on the altar. There was a slight murmur from the man on the table, the sweet smell of pecuniary anesthesia seems to be fast disappearing.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, the piece de resistance…never mind the blood clots on the left ventricle…. those are mementos from old friends…in all, I doubt whether you would have come across a finer specimen of the human heart. Aah, the reticence I see must be a result of the green veins locked with the red ones…this is precisely why it is such a rare piece of work…not very often will you feelings of love and hate, satisfaction and disgust, loyalty and betrayal so closely knit together for a single entity…shall we start at …hmm...1.5 lakh.?
“That man had lust…would not pay more than a couple of thousands…that too, because the arteries would be useful for cradling my love-child….”
“Lets be fair man, 90 thousand would be a decent amount..”
Desperate situations, desperate measures…the auctioneer settled it for exactly a lakh.
The rest of the auction went off pretty smoothly, interrupted only when a child started wailing when its father lost out closely on the right hand…something which he fancied despite the underdeveloped biceps, because he wanted to keep the long artistic fingers adorned with corrugated nails. The happiest were the Prohibition Authorities, because they got the exact liver which they were looking for their Anti Alcohol Campaign funded jointly by the World Bank and Indian Association of Milkers. However, a fashionable lady wasn’t far behind in going home with good deal. And a good deal she took indeed, a malleable, shining, almost new spinal chord perfect for using as a hair ribbon. After the table was almost as empty as the auction room and the auctioneer was exhausted but happy with his day’s efforts, it was time to pack up. And the nurse cum auction assistant obliged with the ususal favour before enquiring –
“ What do we do with the left-overs , sir?”
“ Hmmm.…what do we have here…just the appendix and the soul …and both are raising a hell of a lot of stink…hell...haah, isn’t it apt that we have Cereberus with us to help us out?”
“ Right sir, the appendix is ok but I think even our faithful canine will not accept an amputated soul…he has been seeing a lot courtroom drama and blind army officers and raving Al Pacinos…”
“ Well, in that case, just burn it… and if unfortunately, the Bhagavadgita is indeed based on empirical observations…just get rid of it...anyhow…don’t want useless rubbish turning this disciplined operation theatre into a manger.”
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