Maldives Culture -
Maldives Culture - maldives island
Latest Updates arrow Modern Magic arrow Dead, Alive and Dead Again - Dhon Keyothi
Latest Updates
Advanced Search
Free Dhivehi-English Dictionary
Presidency of Mohamed Nasheed
Gayyoom's Dictatorship 1978-2008
Buddhism and Islam
Ibn Battuta 1343-45
Pyrard 1602-07
Rosset 1885
Maldives 1900-1922
Maldives 1924-1953
Majlis rule 1954-57
Suvadive Republic 1959-1963
President Nasir 1969-1978
Abdul Hakeem Hussein Manik
Maldives History
Maldives Art
Scripts of Maldives
Maps of Maldives
Traditional Stories
Magic - Fanditha
Photographs - Modern
Photographs - Historic
Ships of the Indian Ocean
Social Customs
Modern Stories
Dead, Alive and Dead Again - Dhon Keyothi PDF Print E-mail
Fanditha Magic - Modern Magic
Dead, Alive and Dead Again
New Directions, Male 2014

Maldives - new directions

Dhon Keyothi is buried and rotting peacefully with his Ipad and phone in Hulhumale cemetery when yet another death threat arrives via sms: "You must die again! Filthy fanditha practices are forbidden by almighty Dollah and his profit, the Bank of America!"
Rolling over in his grave, Dhon rings Dhiraagu to thank them for maintaining mobile connection throughout his demise. "Rest assured," answers a pre-recorded voice, "your billing is eternal."

Later rumours attribute Keyothi's resurrection to private funding, but it is a government effort. For as Dhon lifts his body through the soft white sand and begins to stagger towards the nearest triple vodka, Historic Heroes arrive! Amphibious vehicles leap from the lagoon, combat troops surf in from the sea, and helicopters drop the SO boys and headless foreign observers.

Over the next few hours, Keyothi experiences world's best practice whipping and water-boarding. His assessment of the new procedures remains negative until the flogger takes a break and the jail's licensed heroin dealer arrives with a nice rehab enabler...
Fully revived, Dhon coughs, spits out a few teeth and rattles his chains. "I fuckin' luv this country. Anyone got some decent sound?"
"Music forbidden," grunts the flogger. "Will of Dollah."
"Dollah's will is always foremost in my fundament," intones Keyothi bending forward, spreading his legs and straining, "thus this... suitcase filled with... His homophones... is yours."
The case springs open as it hits the floor. "Whoa!" yells the flogger. "You shit money, Mr Dhon!"
"Let's just say I have an Arab fairy god-father with Russian/Italian connections and a worried Swiss accountant. We all need a shower in paradise."

Hosed down by the water cannon squad, Keyothi is released in traditional male attire – tailored pink suit over DD coconut shell vest and bulky white underpants. He melts into a dawn street-dance crowd, twerking white crests into a sea of pink, and sings along with the mob:
"We're heading East! And tons of Yuan!
No more the West! Just Fun! Fun! Fun!
Here comes Da Bridge! So kiss my Bum!
The dancers surge along the main street towards the rising sun, chanting louder as they reach the beach, "Here comes Da Bridge! Here comes Da Bridge!"

Keyothi is the first to notice something strange. "Where's the bridge, guys?"
People look left and right and mumble while Rannamari splashes a few breakers against the rocks.

Dhon strolls back into Male with the crowd, tripping over areca palms and gazing at skyscrapers in the morning glow. One building stands above the rest - the fifty storey gold plated luxury apartment tower built with certified slave labour by President Anonymous.
"Ah, a man's man!" sighs Keyothi, and a nearby street sweeper looks up at the building and farts in agreement.
"Totally emptied the Galolu fanditha warehouse when they built that thing," she says. "The amount of bones they crushed for the walls! Livers for the foundations! Wasn't a single turkey or dead grandmother left in town."
Keyothi nods, impressed. The sweeper waves her broom. "Keep watching the golden prick, DKbey, you'll see one of Dollah's miracles."

High above, bats and crows screech their warning as President Anonymous emerges from the top balcony and casts a chill shadow over half the island.
"Last time I saw this little squirt, he was five foot nothing in high heels and thick lipstick," gasps the Dhon. "Now he makes King Kong look like a midget. What happened?"
"Robot transplant in Singapore," explains the sweeper, scratching her buttock and winking at a passing schoolboy. "Usually it's complicated, but in his case they only had to transplant the wallet and no one noticed the difference, except he's now 150 feet tall with a voice like a foghorn and a bit rusty in the joints."

"Greetings my fellow citizens!" roars the President. "All you dumbasses who took our bribes, and the traitors who didn't. Here I am. Bigger and no better than ever!"
The pavers tremble and it's getting wet underfoot. Keyothi twerks along with everyone else.
"We're heading in a new direction!" booms the robot. "North-West to the peace of the Middle East, then North-East to the security of China in the Far East. Any other directions and we run into democracy, freedom, rule of law, and a lot of ex-pat Maldivans!"
"Such horrors! Dear President, save us, save us!" people scream as the ocean pours through the streets and out across the lagoon.

Anonymous surveys the scene below for a moment, then turns to an aide. "Ring Felice in Venice and ask him to throw in a few gondolas with the next shipment." He pauses, breathing deeply. "And I want Ghostbusters to hit Medina mosque."

top of page

Maldives Culture, Powered by Joomla!; free resources by SG web hosting