Victoria 377..!

She brushed the dirt from his Gandhi cap, straightened his Modi jacket, quietly admiring his sheer white chappals, while stretching out from her bed. “Are you for or against section 377?” she asked demurely.
“Man is made for women and women for men!” he said sternly. “These are laws we framed after much thought! You know I voted against repealing it!”
“You are so strong in your convictions!” she whispered. “Of course darling! Marriage was created for a man and his wife. It is holy. One has to guard against unnatural unions that break our sacred Indian traditions,” he said, suddenly jumping with trepidation as his phone rang and he peered fearfully at the number, “It’s the wife,” he whispered, then spoke into the phone, “I’m at a meeting dear, will be home for lunch, love you!”
At a police station, a policeman twisted his handlebar moustache vigorously as he looked in the direction of the courts, “Those judges are ringing our death knell,” he whispered to no one in particular, “if they start legalizing everything, my wife and children will soon be on the streets! How can I go back to eating dal chawal and some rotten sabji my wife cooks, when all these years I’ve got used to hotel food, from money I get catching these men holding hands?”
“They pay a bribe for just holding hands?” asked the lone prisoner in the lock-up.
“Nah, I just threaten them, and they pay up. This section 377 is my bank when I’m broke. Maybe we will organise a morcha against these judges!”
 He twisted his handlebar moustache in frustration as many thousands of miles away, at the Frogmore Estate, adjoining Windsor Castle in London, where Queen Victoria and her prince consort are buried, the locals swear they heard the old queen sighing in her eternal sleep, “They may repeal the law Albert,” she moaned.
“Maybe it’s time they did dear,” sighed the prince consort, slightly cramped in his tinier coffin, “You got some prudish laws passed in your day Vicky dear!”
“Of course not!” said the stately dead queen turning around in her bigger box, “What’s so prudish of your toes not seen!”
“Forget your toes, I hardly saw anything of you dear!” said the prince sighing at the memory of a Victoria with Victorian views. “And now women in London go nearly naked on them streets!”
“You been peering out from your coffin hey husband?” asked the queen sternly.
“And what a different world it is!” sighed the prince, “Except that old colony of yours!”
“India?” asked the Queen, “Let them be that way; colonial in their thinking, Victorian in their beliefs!”
The prince sighed, shook his head despairingly as thousands of miles away, one with a Gandhi cap and Modi jacket and another with a handlebar moustache applauded their colonial monarch for her views..!
    
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Victoria 377..!

She brushed the dirt from his Gandhi cap, straightened his Modi jacket, quietly admiring his sheer white chappals, while stretching out from her bed. Are you for or against section 377? she asked demurely. Man is made for women and women for men! he said sternly. These are laws we framed after much thought! You know I voted against repealing it! You are so strong in your convictions! she whispered. Of course darling! Marriage was created for a man and his wife. It is holy. One has to guard against unnatural unions that break our sacred Indian traditions, he said, suddenly jumping with trepidation as his phone rang and he peered fearfully at the number, Its the wife, he whispered, then spoke into the phone, Im at a meeting dear, will be home for lunch, love you! At a police station, a policeman twisted his handlebar moustache vigorously as he looked in the direction of the courts, Those judges are ringing our death knell, he whispered to no one in particular, if they start legalizing everything, my wife and children will soon be on the streets! How can I go back to eating dal chawal and some rotten sabji my wife cooks, when all these years Ive got used to hotel food, from money I get catching these men holding hands? They pay a bribe for just holding hands? asked the lone prisoner in the lock-up. Nah, I just threaten them, and they pay up. This section 377 is my bank when Im broke. Maybe we will organise a morcha against these judges! He twisted his handlebar moustache in frustration as many thousands of miles away, at the Frogmore Estate, adjoining Windsor Castle in London, where Queen Victoria and her prince consort are buried, the locals swear they heard the old queen sighing in her eternal sleep, They may repeal the law Albert, she moaned. Maybe its time they did dear, sighed the prince consort, slightly cramped in his tinier coffin, You got some prudish laws passed in your day Vicky dear! Of course not! said the stately dead queen turning around in her bigger box, Whats so prudish of your toes not seen! Forget your toes, I hardly saw anything of you dear! said the prince sighing at the memory of a Victoria with Victorian views. And now women in London go nearly naked on them streets! You been peering out from your coffin hey husband? asked the queen sternly. And what a different world it is! sighed the prince, Except that old colony of yours! India? asked the Queen, Let them be that way; colonial in their thinking, Victorian in their beliefs! The prince sighed, shook his head despairingly as thousands of miles away, one with a Gandhi cap and Modi jacket and another with a handlebar moustache applauded their colonial monarch for her views..! [email protected]