So, Prashant Tamang became the Indian Idol! What a great achievement, almost like climbing Mount Everest with a broken limb and no oxygen! And a bad voice to boot.
Now, don’t take any notice of some nasty people who are spreading rumors like Prashant is the guy who sings the “Yeh suhaana mausam” song in the “Mirchi sunney waale, hameshaa khush” ad. Nasty, nasty! Prashant isn’t really in that league yet, but as the new Indian Idol, who knows?
Let us hear it again for the Kolkata Kakofonix!
Why don’t we recant the proceedings of the Indian Idol, just as an Indian exercise of self-purification and torture, like the Neti?
In the rounds, we heard judge after judge being so unreasonably judgmental about Prashant:
Anu Mallik: “Tuh out ho raha hai, aisa gayega toh. Are you still smoking Dunghill cigarettes, you rat?” (You are a goner!)
Udit Narayan: “You have come back like the proverbial bad penny. Fight, and sms your way to success.”
Javed Akhtar: “You have a poorly trained, reed-thin voice that I would have mistaken for the anguished cry of a constipated goat in acute intestinal obstruction. I think Ankita is much better than you: she sounds like a sibilant frog in mating season, but at least she wiggles her hips and gives me hot looks like no girl does free of charge these days!”
Alisha Chinai: “You are a great singer, but your start was shaky. The second line was okay, but from the third line to the last line, you were flat. But you are a great singer, and you rock!”
The Nepalis in Sikkim, Darjeeling and everywhere dropped everything to vote for him. No 96 hour strikes, no revolution, no breaking windows, and no drinking! No drinking, so that they could find their way to the phone booths: can you believe this?
They even spread the moolah around so that people could text freely and push their idol to the next level. The few businessmen who had to pay reasonable donations to fund the patriotic drive to Idolise Prashant didn’t mind it so much, especially when they rediscovered the freedom of breathing without a pair of hands around their necks.
Policemen stopped taking bribes, and offenders of all sorts were penalized to send votes, according to the severity of the crimes, rather than get jailed. Never before have rapists and murderers contributed so positively to a social cause.
As Prashant’s competitors lost their way to the Mountain Mania, the judges fell prey to a mountainous ghoul that took over their voices. It was the Ghoul of Good Taste. The ghoul had his own views about nationalism and fair play, and was mean and bitter.
It was time for the judges to pronounce their final views of Prashant’s performances. The nation waited with
bad bated breath.
Anu Mallik thought: “You sound like an old drunk with TB”, but the ghoul made him say: “You sound just like Kishoreda used to. Even though you nearly died last night from a cold, you have sung with great spirit and have fought your way over the top. Great job!”
Javed Akhtar thought: “I hate your voice. Stop singing or I will retire to the Himalayas!”
His voice came out instead, as “I used to think the people of Darjeeling have just stopped living for themselves, and are showering you with votes over better candidates, but I am totally wrong. The other candidates are no better than you. You are truly a champion!”
Alisha Chinai wanted to say “God, to think I have to sing at award nights with you makes me want to puke”, but ended up saying “You rock, Prashant, OH MY GOD! You are SOOO good!”
Udit Narayan fainted and had to be hospitalized.
India celebrated. Connoissieurs shuddered. The Ghoul of Good Taste was happy.