![]() ![]() My friend visited the local BMC office last month to get his name rectified on the birth certificate. The 20s became 50s and then evolved into 100s, but now that life and style have become one solid, hyphenated word, created out of a profusion of Nikes and 12-mega pixel camera phones, palm greasing has changed. These palms that need greasing belong to a bunch of people, going through the typical middle-class grind, with aspirations of making it to the other side. All problems great and small, judicial and bureaucratic, disappear when they slip through well-greased palms. ![]() We’ve all performed this roadside version of sex and lived to tell the tale because money, we’ve been taught, is the answer to most of life’s problems. After that there’s no question of a cuddle, as both parties rapidly walk away in opposite directions doing their own versions of the walk of shame. ![]() The physical act of bribery though is like bad sex – you whip it out in desperation, the other person hesitates for a bit, it all ends before it even begins, and the actual deed gets done in under three minutes. Then there’s that moment when the Netflix ends and the chill begins, and both parties give each other subtle verbal and non-verbal cues before actually doing the deed. You talk of lights, traffic, and life, but beneath it all, the subtext runs heavy. Being caught at a traffic light is like the dance of love, where two parties approach each other warily. The act of bribery is in many ways like the act of sex. ![]()
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