Resurrection of a Nation's Purse

It was a spectacle unlike any ever seen in the capital, a grand procession, somber yet theatrical, unfolding in the heart of New Delhi.

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There, laid upon a bamboo bier in Rajpath, surrounded by weeping economists and television cameras, rested what appeared to be the mortal remains of the Indian Economy.

Gone was the tricolour, in its place fluttered pages torn from the latest Economic Survey, Budget speeches of yesteryears, and a heap of unpaid MGNREGA bills flapping like last rites in the monsoon wind.

The air was thick with incense and irony. Priests, chartered accountants in disguise, chanted mournful mantras in a mix of Sanskrit and fiscal terminology. The nation's leading news anchors stood in solemn reverence, struggling to keep their sobs authentic for prime time.

"Brothers and sisters," intoned the chief mourner, a portly man clad in a shawl inscribed with the words 'Dead Economy: RIP', his voice rising theatrically above the din, "we are gathered here to bid final farewell to an entity once vibrant, now vanquished... taken before its time."

"Before its time?" bellowed the Leader of the Opposition, emerging dramatically from the crowd and hoisting a garlanded bundle of onions above his head like some sacred talisman. "We warned you of its impending demise! GST was the garrote.

Demonetizationswere the dagger. You let it bleed!"