There are a thousand ways to eat honey—either with a chamcha (spoon) or by being a chamcha. Knives, forks, hands, tricks, crowds, schemes—everything works when it comes to licking honey. Some twist their way in, others charm their way through. Some threaten, some plead. Some intimidate, others coax. Some flaunt it, some hoard it. And then there are those who just lick it like a dog!
Experts say: “If licked at the right time, in the right way, and of course in the right quantity—honey tastes sweet. Otherwise, even the purest shuddha desi ghee may leave you with indigestion.”
Take Oli-ji, for instance—he knows everything. (No, no, not PM Oli! I wouldn’t dare such blasphemy.) This Oli-ji is the capital’s connoisseur-in-chief. From Google gurus to Gulf-returned Gorkhas, he is an encyclopedia of everything from turmeric cures to tax evasion.
Once, I had the pleasure of meeting him. I asked, “How should one eat honey in a way that keeps the body healthy—and perhaps even sneezes away COVID?”
He flared up, as if I had insulted a national emblem. “Rules and laws are crucial when it comes to eating,” he declared. “Be it honey or hard cash—the same principle applies. If one gets to eat cash, not just your health, but the wellbeing of your entire clan—relatives included—shines. This, my friend, is the real reason behind the nation’s glowing health.”
He paused dramatically: “So eat, and let eat. Don’t bother with moralities like ‘corruption’.”
Because, let’s be honest—corruption is just the absence of virtue. And to find virtue nowadays, you would need a time machine to the Satya Yuga. If you have read the Panchatantra, you would know how truth becomes lies, and lies dress up as truth. Corruption spans a wide spectrum—from false promises to buying political seats, from winning elections to looting under the banner of ‘public service’.
Think about it, and examples abound. Don’t think—and there is nothing to see!
It is a new era, and it calls for new thinking. And that thinking is: don’t think! Just look in the mirror each morning and repeat three times: “A legal tender for corruption has been issued.” But make sure your heart is pure and your soul squeaky clean. That done, you are free to do anything!
Because governments do not go after those who lick well! Take Comrade Madhav, for example—poor fellow never quite learned the art. Might have avoided some current woes if he had a better technique. He didn’t even get a nibble!
Of course, every government wants to appear squeaky clean. If complaints do arise, they issue a statement, shed a tear and condemn corruption. Business as usual.
Because taking and giving bribes—that’s an art. And those who master it are called artists. Oli-ji began with honey, but his mind soon wandered—first to corruption, then to consumption. Honey, he forgets, until someone reminds him. And then the licking resumes.
On another occasion, I again found myself before Oli-ji.
“You’re the grandmaster of the cosmos,” I said. “We’ve come with a humble question—how does one eat honey?”
He chuckled. “First, fix your vocabulary. Honey isn’t eaten. It’s licked. Big difference. Bribes are eaten. Honey is licked. The brain is both eaten and licked, depending on the situation.”
He continued, eyes twinkling: “Licking honey is no small matter. It’s a refined art. And those who extract honey by licking their own fingers—that’s an age-old tradition. But remember: whoever extracts the honey, must lick it too. Just don’t get so lost in the sweetness that others find you bitter—and you're left with nothing but regret!”
“I want to lick honey too,” I said. “But how?”
“What kind of man are you?” he snapped. “Speak softly! Don’t take the matter of licking lightly. If the wrong ears hear, chairs could shake! Reputations might crumble! Licking is a deep philosophy—understood only through lived experience.”
Just like that, the conversation veered into the alleyways of factional politics.
“Should a former president meet with old party cadres? Is that appropriate?” he asked me.
“That’s beyond my pay grade,” I said. “But could you at least tell me how to consume honey?”
“Power is like wild honey—especially cliff honey,” he said solemnly. “It must be licked slowly and sparingly. The new generation doesn’t get this. Their imitation lacks finesse. Lick too much, and it won’t digest!”
“If it’s sugar syrup honey, then sure—slurp away. But real honey? That needs a chamcha. Do you have one?”
“Oh, we’ve got plenty of them,” I replied. “What we lack is the honey. That’s why we came to ask—where do we find it? And how do we lick it?”
He nodded sagely. “If you can become the chamcha yourself, even better. Honey always sticks to the chamcha first. If you want to extract it yourself, grab a broker. Or befriend a loudmouth MP. Then, if you lick carefully, it’ll nourish you. But if you’re careless, you’ll end up in a sticky mess!”
“Sir, I was talking about actual honey—you know, the kind bees make from flowers.”
“Oh! Flower nectar honey? That I don’t have. But bring a jar and I’ll demonstrate the technique. Bring two, actually. We’ll test one and keep it for ourselves—for quality assurance, naturally.”
As I walked away from Oli-ji, I felt oddly enlightened. Truly, one must learn the great art of consumption.
Because it turns out—former presidents, vice-presidents, prime ministers, cabinet chairmen, chief justices, speakers, and national assembly chairs—all of them—have already figured out how to eat honey. That is why the new bill proposes a “special honey arrangement” for these “distinguished former officials”.
Retired secretaries want political appointments—to lick honey. Former VIPs want allowances, houses, cars from state coffers—to lick honey. Ex-presidents and ex-vice presidents want to return to politics—to lick more honey!
The government laments the lack of development funds. Let it lament. One must eat. Who survives without eating? Especially honey!
So then—tell me—are you one of those who eats honey?
Or one who licks it?
(This article was originally publihsed in July 2025 issue of New Business Age Magazine.)
