Once upon a time there were three neighbours – Katherine Kaur, Bodhi Murmu and Mohammed Tulsiraam. Kathy was a farmer; Bodhi worked at a jute mill; and Mohammed was a cowherd. None of them knew what to do with that heavy tome, the Indian Constitution that many learned people in the city were making a brouhaha about. Kathy said it was useless, Bodhi thought perhaps it was divine, and Mohammed even asked, "Will it feed our children, eh?"
The fact that a bearded king had been elected, the three neighbours couldn't care less, "Akhir itna waqt kiske paas hai?" And then the rains failed, the debts mounted, and Katherine found the bottle of pesticide whispering her name. Next the jute mill went bankrupt. The police teargassed the protesting workers and Bodhi Murmu was slapped with terrorism-charges for leading them. At last came Mohammed Tulsiraam's turn. One fine sanatani (sanctimonious) evening his cows came home, followed by sword-wielding two-legged calves. "Gau-maataa ki jai! Gau-maataa ki jai!"
Amidst the demonic chanting, somewhere a few pages rustled, a blue sun rose, a faltering whisper was heard:
"We, the people of India, having solemnly resolved...