Very unreliable sources who claim to have been present at a meeting between Shashi Tharoor, head of the Indian delegation to the US, and President Donald Trump, have sent me this alleged transcript of their purported interaction:
Trump: Shashi, my friend, welcome to the U.S. of A.—the greatest country in the world. Land of the free, home of the brave, and let me tell you, it’s tremendous. You’re gonna love it here.
Elon Musk: Hello.
Elon Musk’s kid blows a raspberry
Elon Musk’s kid’s nanny: Hiya, Shashi!
Tharoor: A most resplendent morning to you all—exalted excellency, esteemed technocrat, gentle nanny, and cherub. It is with the gravest of responsibilities that I arrive, as the humble bearer of my nation’s solemn mission.
Trump: Whoa, Shashi, no need to be grave—we’re all friends, great friends. Nobody's exalted—except me, maybe a little. I’m not just exalted, I’m sorted, I’m the most sorted guy you’ll ever meet. Even more than Buttigieg—he rides a bike with his husband on the back, it's cute. Anyway—huge welcome, Shashi. You’re talking to the guy who got more votes than anyone ever, three times! That’s what the fake news don’t want you to know.
Musk: So, what did you drive in, Shashi? I hope it’s a Tesla?
Tharoor: That, dear sir, is a question I shall answer in due course. Permit me first the honour of elucidating the intricate tapestry of geopolitical provocations and asymmetric engagements that culminated in our present imbroglio with that malevolent and delinquent neighbour to our west—Pakistan.
Trump (interrupting): I know, I know, Shashi—you guys were about to go kaboom, nuclear-style! I said, “What a beautiful world—can’t blow it up!” So I got on the phone—called you, called them—very smart people, very dangerous, very tough. I said, “Let’s cool it.” And you listened. You’ve been at it for a thousand, maybe fifteen hundred years—and then I come in, boom, peace. That’s the Trump effect. Incredible, really. You’re welcome.
Tharoor: As I was articulating before your characteristically emphatic interjection, in Pahalgam—an idyllic locale nestled within traumatised Kashmir—
Trump (interrupting again): Kashmir, oh yeah, I know it very well. Melania’s got this amazing cashmere sweater, absolutely stunning. And it comes from goats—Kashmir goats! Fantastic goats. You ever seen one up close? Strong fur.
Musk: We have goats in South Africa too. But they’re groaning under socialist oppression.
Trump: White goats, genocide victims. Very sad.
Tharoor: Indeed, a noble breed. As I was endeavouring to convey, Pakistan’s nefarious agents orchestrated a brutal assault on innocent civilians. Our response was not an act of belligerence, but a calibrated manoeuvre in self-defence.
Musk: Totally get it. And hey, thanks for letting Tesla into India. Get ready for the ride of your life: instant torque, maximum safety, sustainable vibes.
Tharoor: Your gratitude is appreciated, sir.
Trump: And you’re doing it with zero tariffs, folks. That’s what I heard from Howard Lutnick—great guy, knows the market. Look, we got crybabies here too, crying about tariffs. Taylor Swift—used to be hot, not anymore—and Bruce Springsteen—total has-been, like a dried prune—fighting my beautiful, beautiful tariffs. Getting Tesla on zero tariffs is the smart thing to do.
Tharoor (muttering): Permit me, Mr. President, to aver that your comportment and verbal emissions so exquisitely resemble the anatomical characteristics of the terminal point of the human gastrointestinal system that to describe you as anything less than the sentient avatar of a certain sphincter would be an injustice.
Trump: You bet. I’ve got the most amazing gastro system ever. I had a medical check-up just a few days back. A very tough one and they said my gastro is spectacular.
Look, everyone wants to meet with me. The Qataris even gave me a jet—just to say thank you. Can you believe that? But you know what I don’t have? A yacht. Yet.
Musk: A lot of people are getting into Bitcoin.
Trump: Yeah, yeah, especially $TRUMP and $MELANIA. I told them, “Buy Bitcoin, buy stocks, buy my brand.” Look at them now—soaring. You should get in, Shashi. Make India rich again.
Elon’s son kicks Tharoor on the shin
Tharoor: Oof! Ow! You diminutive exemplar of incorrigible impudence!
Nanny: He’s just feisty, that’s all.
Trump: Tell you what, I’ll do you a favour, Shashi. I’ll call Rubio. We’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse.
(Calls Marco Rubio; Rubio enters)
Trump: Marco, what’s the name of that sea near India?
Rubio: Arabian Sea?
Trump: No, no, the other one. The one with all the China drama.
Rubio: South China Sea? But that’s not near India.
Trump: I know that, Marco. But we’re gonna rename it, for my friend Shashi. I’m calling it the South India Sea. Make it official. Mark it on all the maps. Do it classy.
Rubio: All right. By the way, Pakistan’s rep, Heena Rabbani Khar, is here.
Trump: Show her in!
(Heena enters)
Tharoor: Heena! Enchantress of Islamabad! Delightful, charming, delectable, ravishing, entrancing, captivating Heena. Your sudden apparition has rendered me euphoric. What concatenation of cosmic alignments has brought you here?
Heena: Oh Shashi, it’s been too long. I’m here to present Pakistan’s case against India.
Tharoor: What sublime serendipity! Come, my enchanting Heena, let us adjourn to a more tranquil setting for caffeinated colloquy.
Heena: I... oh, never mind. Sure, Shashi. Let’s go and have coffee. Bye Donald, bye Elon.
Trump: Marco, go with them. Buy them a nice dinner. Bring about peace.
Tharoor: There’s no need sir, we’d like to keep it strictly bilateral.
Weekend Wild Card is a column by Manas Chakravarty
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