I Am Saddam Husseinby Ramesh Mahadevan It is lousy enough to be a Saddam Hussein. You know what's even lousier? To be Saddam Hussein's double. And I have the unholy privilege of being one. Yes, sir. When you think you are watching His Excellency give a rousing speech to a chest-beating crowd, it is actually me, spewing some rehearsed babble. I am the one who kisses babies for breakfast. And later, meet with pompous-looking UN diplomats and lead them into the armpits of Baghdad in search of chemical weapons and western style bathrooms -- while the real head of the state is busy generating some important political gobbledygook. Or perhaps, simply sleeping in late. They handpicked me and a few others from a huge crowd of wannabes who auditioned to be Saddam. The chosen ones all had to take a grueling five-credit course on Body Doubling, taught by an internationally renowned professor's double from the USA. We had to walk the walk and talk the talk and shoot the shot. All of us had to undergo a surgery to implant a prominent mole on one of our cheeks. We learnt to put on ill-fitting army fatigues and act dictatorial. There were surprise quizzes in the class -- basically we would go through mock assassination attempts, where either you got an A grade or got killed. In the end, after we finally made the cut, even Saddam Hussein's own daughter, Badaam Hussein, could not tell me apart from her candy-bringing daddy. A typical day as Saddam might involve watching endless columns of Fedayeen and Republican guards marching in circles around Baghdad, Then four to five prayer meetings at various places in glowering heat. Then comes the presidential lunch. Baghdad is a cruel place, you see. If the Kurd separatists' bombs don't get you, the falafil will. The afternoons are spent in plotting conspiracies, followed by a showy motorcade from Saddam City to Saddampur through the Saddam Highway. Then there will be those huge family get-togethers. Saddam Hussein has four brothers, three half-brothers, seven quarter-brothers, about fourteen one-eighth-brothers and, in fact, a sum total of 42.342 brothers. The toughest part is to make that inane family small talk. And then, finally at the end of the day, I would go back to my simple apartment, to my wife and snuggle up to her -- for, that would be our anniversary or something special. I would put my hand over her and she would say, “You, naughty boy, you want to do it again, don't you? Didn't we just do it an hour ago?” Wait a minute. An hour ago? Wasn't I at a state dinner for the King of Botswana, kissing the acne-ridden face of his wife? Then it would occur to me. The simple truth is that if I am Saddam Hussein's double, then, he is my double as well. Two plus two equals four. Disgusted, I would collapse into an angry sleep. We, Saddam Hussein doubles, have formed a fraternity. Some days we would all get together and josh around. You gotta meet one of the doubles named Saddam (not his real name, of course) who is a great practical joker. He was the one who put Saddam's personal hotmail address on a spam list. Another time, he issued a midnight Presidential ordnance converting one of his palaces into a zoo and we saw hippos gallivanting in the First bathtub. He also arranged an interview for His Excellency with a supposed Arab news agency, but it turned out that the agency was actually something called Al Jaljeera, the news magazine of the Denver Indian Association. Of course, the wildest practical joke was by a guy called Mohammad, when he jokingly said, “Let's invade Kuwait,” and you know what happened after that. But what did him in was when he appeared on International TV once with a shaved mustache, much to boss's chagrin. And for effect, he also had plastic surgery done to remove the mole on his left cheek. Saddam Hussein was furious and he immediately ordered surgery done on Mohammad's head and it wasn't plastic. A few months ago, I started developing a persistent stoop, and I am now thinking of retiring from service as the fake President of Iraq. What does a retired Saddam Hussein double to do? Just imagine, the only thing listed under Skills in your resume is that you were a Saddam Hussein. I was told that the Bush administration is interested in me -- for target practice. I even heard rumors that the networks are interested in me as a Saddam Hussein expert, and there were even talks of a movie deal, except that Jack Nicholson was slated to play me playing Saddam Hussein. Often I would stay awake all night staring at the moonlit Baghdad sky (the 'coalition' bombs have blown off my roof) and ask myself: Who am I really? Like a bank teller handling millions of rupees, I too am wading through absolute power, knowing full well it isn't mine to keep. Should I enjoy it then or should I simply do my job out of some third-degree patriotic feeling? And most importantly, why does he keep doubles? Is power that important for someone to hang on to? Is he even alive? Why didn't they have a regular wicket keeper in the Indian cricket team? What is fair? Aren't 'Bunker Buster' bombs Weapons of Mass Destruction and why are then some countries allowed to have them and use them? I wonder if George W. Bush ever considered having a double. Of course, there is that guy who spoofs him on Saturday Night Live and you may perhaps count him as a double -- but then, given how silly and hilarious the whole show is, it is highly likely that President Bush himself is playing that part. Oh, well. I can go on and on, but I guess there is no real good ending or epitaph for a duplicitous life -- pardon my cynicism here. And if I were to do it all over again, I'd rather be Tony Blair's double. |