What to Say When the Prime Minister Calls

I could talk about shunya and yoga. And zero gravity yoga. Kalpana, of course. Save the girl child.

I liked her name. Kalpana is illusion. Quite like the world. Brahma satyam, jagat mithya. I could say that. The universe is the only truth, the world is a myth. Or I could talk about quantum theory. Brahma, Vishnu, Mahesh. But that would be too much.

Shunya is better. We gave the world zero. And that got us here. To another shunya; this void, this nothingness. That would be meme-worthy.

Ammi must’ve known what I would be one day. Maybe that’s why she named me Najma. “You are a star, my star.”

She used to say stars make music. That the sound of the cosmos is aum. Which is why I try not to fart in space. Why mess up the soundtrack.

Chuck thinks that’s funny. “Worry about the methane in your suit, Star Girl!”

Ma would’ve been bummed I married a Chuck. She wouldn’t have liked his name. Chuck-plucks-ducks-from-the-muck-for-a-buck. But I love him. And he cooks a mean stroganoff.

We have decided not to have kids. Why burden Earth with our stock? Yes, it’s greener than before, I agree. Thanks, mainly, to China and to us. Maybe that’s what my message should be. Plant more trees.

What to Say When the Prime Minister Calls

Plant more trees, Mr Prime Minister. Heal the world.
Make it a better place.
For you and for me, and the entire human race.

Damn, all the good lines are taken. Maybe I’ll just do a moonwalk.

But why isn’t he calling? Is it my name?