Perl and The Sacred Ashtray
This is Volume-I
of Perl’s Script: the comic adventures of Perl and Hari.
Perl and Hari run a French restaurant called Le Tomb, a software startup called Ruby Storm, and are 'scientific detectives' on the side. Oh, and they have a pet talking buffalo called Jagan.
The Old Goat hits back…
Two leading city gurus fight it
out for the spiritual TV ratings. Things have reached such a bitter
pass that Sri Sri (or is it Sri Sri Sri?) Bobby Shankar – the Art of Kidding
chap – habitually refers to his rival as That Old Goat. That Old Goat,
meanwhile – or Shy Baba to use his official name, he of the permanent bad hair
day, calls his spiritual adversary Stupid ol’ Bobby, boorishly eschewing all
the Sris in the prefix.
Bobby seems to have the upper
hand with his corny jokes and his Sacred Ash gimmick, until his deadly rival of
the holy cloth comes up with the Sacred Ashtray. This naturally makes Bobby
bite the lemon and take a jaundiced view.
Enter Perl and Hari – the
intrepid technologist-entrepreneur duo. Can they invent a sacred ashtray
machine for Bobby to outdo that of Shy Baba?
But they get more than they
bargained for in this particular project. Their technological research soon
lands them into a bubbling, frothing spiritual gumbo of food critic murderers,
overweight German spies, kidnapping, extortion, sex scandals… can Perl and Hari
extricate themselves from the holy soup with their sanity – and bank balance –
intact?
What leading book critics say
about Sacred Ashtray:
Telangana Herald: As far as we can make out, it’s a book of some sort…
Farm & Ag Review: A remarkably clear, concise exposition of the scientific rearing of
goats. Belongs in the library of every diligent goat farmer.
Daily BJ: The word Sex appears just once in over 300 pages, that too in
conjunction with Babies. What kind of a novel is this?
Good Grief, what do you care
what book critics say, anyhow? It’s pleasant, it’s funny, and while it won’t
change your life forever, it’s worth the price as mentioned on the sticker. Buy
it, you won’t regret it.
Excerpt:
Perl was already back, looking
like a spray of dew-drenched sweet pea when Hari crawled into Ruby Storm. She
was seated at a speakerphone, ready to open negotiations with Bobby. She waved
him to a couch and pressed Dial.
“Art of Kidding,” said a soft
feminine voice. “Which leg would you like pulled today? Press one for –”
“I’m going to do the leg-pulling,
kid,” said Perl like ice cubes made audible. “Put me through to that rat
Bobby.”
The receptionist had been trained
well. She did not miss a beat.“Sri Sri – or on certain days Sri Sri Sri – Bobby
Shankar does not take calls.”
“He’ll take this one all right.
Tell him it’s about the ring.”There was a suppressed gasp – the news had obviously
gotten around the ashram. There were confused rattles, clicks and whispered
conversations. Then Bobby came on the line.
“Yes? Who is this?”
“We have your ring.”
“What?”
“You heard. – If you want to see
your darling finger-joy alive again, leave a million rupees in unmarked bills
behind the third garbage can under the R.K. Puram Bridge.”
“What?”
“Unmarked bills. One million.
“What?”
“Oh Good Grief!” said Perl impatiently.
“Didn’t your English teacher tell you about the other interrogative pronouns?
There’s also Who, Why, When and Where. Anyhow, putting the whole thing in a
concise nutshell, we’ve ringnapped your ring – your ashtray machine is in our
custody. And you, rat, are in a fix.”
There was a choking, gurgling
sound.
“Perl? Is that you, Perl?”
“It’s your nemesis, kid. And in
case your English teacher didn’t teach you words like that, a nemesis is not a
nice thing to have.”
A furious cry – like that of a TV
Baba who had nicked himself shaving – engulfed the speakerphone.
“It was you! You broke into my ashram
last night and stole my ring!”
“The one you didn’t pay for,”
said Perl frostily. “This is called repossession, kid. Not stealing. Banks and
credit card companies do it all the time.”
