The Fool Circle

The Fool Circle

“I've got a plan”, I coughed into my hand.

The Elder Bishop-Dromo looked up and said, “Eh?”

All faces around the round table turned towards me. I froze, I was where I always hated to be: in the spotlight. My neighbor took my hand in his hand and that was enough; his clammy hands could even warm up the dead.

I rearranged my facial features to portray an air of contemplation and plod on, “I have a plan to take care of our complaints.”

This air of contemplation was crucial because I was the youngest in our team of Elders and this was my third day ‘at work’ or as they keep repeating ‘at service’.  For the past two days, I was trying to contribute to discussions but by the time I could form a coherent sentence to interpose, the slippery discussion had already moved to some other related topic.

Last night, I, hence, decided that whenever I had to cut in, I shall just start with the sentence, “I've got a plan.”; that should give me some time to then continue with the next sentence. Of course, by now, you can see my naiveté, for the best sentence is always, “I have an idea.”; after all, who in our World-War forsaken world speaks without one.

Now that I had set the ‘I 've got a plan’ idea into motion; the contemplative air helped the aura of deep thought and severity that I wanted to project. For ‘The Committee of Elders’ – formed after the sixth World War – is all about morals a main course that is incomplete without a side-dish of deep thinking and a generous dollop of stringent guidelines.

After the 6 World Wars, the 66 continental wars and the 666 country wars, thankfully, none of these during my lifetime, the world chose the ‘Green Park’ as the symbol of peace. The whole notion of a ‘country’ was dissolved and the world was organized into 16,384 dioceses; each centered around a park. Each park stands in some sense for a country and family units were randomly assigned to parks.

Our ‘Elder Committee’ or as the people on the park-benches snigger – ‘Older Committee’ was made to uphold the moral of our Park which also meant keeping an eye on social behaviors of people within parks. Why you may wonder are we only looking at behaviors in parks? Simply because, that’s the only place you can meet other people outside your family. No other place in this Park-delineated world allows for congregations of more than five to meet. A necessary tactic to avoid civil war and other vexations.

Recently, reports have trickled in on inappropriate –read fornicatory when I say inappropriate – behavior within our park: Park 6561 – and the Committee has convened to decide what to do.

“What is your plan?”, the Bishop-Dromo interrupted my thoughts with his question.

Throwing contemplation and caution to the winds, I ventured, “Why don’t we put the Park under surveillance?”

Now, the Bishop-Dromo sighed, shook his head and looked at everyone else, “Why do these youngsters – it sounded like he spat at the word – never read the bye-laws?” Addressing me specifically he continued, “Because, that would be an invasion of privacy. Statistically, surveillance increases the chances of an internal revolution by more than 453.15%”

Another Elder who was working on his handtop interrupted quickly, “Sorry, a few seconds back that got updated to 453.237%.”

The Bishop-Dromo grit his teeth, ignored the elder and said, “A number that only keeps increasing. Consequently, no bugs, no camera, no spies, no surveillance!”

All that talk gave me some time to think on my butt, “All this inappropriate behavior that we hear about. Doesn’t that occur between members of the opposite sex? Let’s keep separate park timings for different sexes. Based on the distribution of the number of people in each of the seven different genders we could work out corresponding intervals for their meetings in the park.”

Young though I may be, I saw the Bishop-Dromo showing interest in my scheme, for he was stroking his chin with the same air of contemplation that I had recently thrown off. “Hmm!”, he opined, “Sounds good!” and with that everyone around him started nodding. No one wanted the food to be postponed.

26 Months Later

I was now collating reports for rationings and social behavior norms and I saw an increasing trend in inappropriate behavior within the park. It was my moral duty to bring this up with our Committee at the risk of some butt-bashing but I have neither shied away from moral duty nor from butt-bashing in both the active and the passive voice.

When we convened the following week, I coughed into my hand, “I have a report to highlight.”

Initially, the Committee thought that the sexes had somehow ended up intermingling: literally, figuratively, metaphorically, idiosyncratically, well, you get the drift…

Security was summoned and they were ready with their reports which at least prima facie seemed like the job of the separation of genders was well-done.

Now the aging Bishop-Dromo who was bent over the report looked up at me and said, “You, homosapien!” I heard a snicker whose source with much regret I could not place because I had to keep looking at the Bishop-Dromo with my eyes downcast. This feat is not impossible, we were all trained to do this.

With the snicker, the rapidly aging Bishop-Dromo thundered, “You homo-turd! You have increased, nay introduced, the occurrence of homosexuality in our hitherto purely heterosexual Park by dangling – Oh well! There goes another snicker, I thought – people of the same sex opposite each other. Enough of this, people can now enter the Park only with four-legged, albeit, one – headed pets or not at all, I do not want the two-backed, two-headed beast.”

Quickly rules were amended, announcements were made and food was served, I was too light-headed to remember the order between the three, since all the blood had rushed to my butt after the bashing.

39 Months Later

The Bishop-Dromo had passed away and I was now the collator of external news – a key position – within our Committee. I used to travel between Parks which allowed me a very flexible life. After a long hiatus, I was back within my own Park where news from the outside world would be wrung out of me so that I had the mind space to absorb what was happening in my own land.

I was lost in my thoughts when my ears pricked at the word ‘bestiality’. It seems that allowing pets only led pet owners to practice inappropriate behavior with each other’s pets. I was aghast and at the same time grateful that it was not with their own pets; bestiality was bad enough, if I also heard incest, I may just puke.

Unfortunately the frail butt of our earlier Bishop-Dromo had passed away when he did. So the Committee quickly moved to recommendations and it was decided that people can only enter alone in the Park and will maintain a radius of six feet when interacting with any living thing. This time, unsurprisingly, no one wanted to take clear responsibility for the recommendation and of course, food was served earlier than was usual.

52 Months Later

Let’s pause here and savor this moment. I am now the Bishop-Dromo and all I have to do is insult the youngsters, stroke my chin, and yes, appear contemplative.

While I was stroking my chin, I heard the word, masturbate. I was beside myself with rage. How dare our people pleasure themselves! A natural pleasure which involves supplication to none. God Forbid! This is the worst sin of all!

After a lot of voiding and voting, we finally decided that this can only be stopped if people are allowed to meet only in large groups. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief primarily because more people in the Park meant that people will be less frustrated, less chances of rebellion and also because food could now be served.

65 Months Later

I am now stooping over all reports that come in. Moral standards have been highest in my reign is what I have been told. But I now suffer from consistent - I am yet to find something in this world more consistent - constipation so I take everything that I am told with a pinch of salt and a cup of laxative. I was floating in the amorphous brown clouds of my thoughts when I heard the word ‘orgies’. I took a deep breath to muster the right amount of outrage; frankly, a decent fart could keep me happy for a couple of hours. My anus now seemed to inhabit another Park, clearly, orgies in our Park seemed like something happening in another planet.

In response to my well-calibrated outrage, one of the youngsters said something that I could not even hear. With my professional experience, listening skills was the last thing that was needed, I answered with the standard, “Why do these youngsters – I spat at the word – never read the bye-laws?”

The Elder right beside me promptly agreed with me and a few minutes later I heard some motion being passed that allowed people to only meet in pairs. Two people of different genders meeting in the Park should not cause any problems, everyone agreed.

I placed my fingers on my eyes to ostensibly massage them but to actually steal some shut-eye when I smelt the food.