Murali caught only a glimpse of Penny as he piloted his private jet towards Hyderabad airport. Though he was a high powered Micro-finance Maven and she was just a poor girl from a backward caste toiling in the fields of Evil Landlord Johnny Reddy; just the sight of her, back bent, plucking cotton in the Vidarbha wasteland was enough to convince Murali that she read Ayn Rand and coitus would occur, perhaps even including anal, in a most satisfactory but also socially meaningful way, such that both their lives would be completely transformed.
Meanwhile, back at the Palace of Evil Landlord Johnny Reddy, a dastardly plan was being hatched to violate the honor of Penny. Penny did not know this but- as she looked up at the sky from which not one drop of rain had fallen due to one hundred years of solitude- she remembered the words of Ayn Rand- 'true Objectivism rejects Compassion because only the Individual can be Truly Objectivist and therefore worthy of being called a votary of True Objectivism.'
Because of the Indian Government's lack of True Objectivism- not that the U.S.A is any better as Murali well knew because he had a PhD from the University of Arizona- hundreds of billions of women like Penny were being cruelly exploited thus presenting a great opportunity for building a Globalized Private Equity Brand through grass-roots For Profit Micro-finance.
Evil landlord Johnny Reddy, who was a Socialist Member of Parliament, laid hands upon Penny in a brazen attempt to force her to give up the pearl of her virginity to him. He was rather hairy. Penny protested as follows- 'Due to True Objectivism requires the rejection of the False God of Socialized Medicine- including rape- I will not at all surrender the pearl of my virginity to you- unhand me hairy fellow!'
Just then Murali's parachute descended into that cotton field in Vidarbha where, the cunning Landlord, Johnny Reddy, was seeking to deflower Penny by putting his penis into her vag.
'How now!' said Penny, addressing Murali as he wafted into view, 'What strange manner of wooing is this? Do you think to win my maiden heart by such providential parachuting? Fie upon thee! I am a True Obectivist and can not be swayed by such theatrics and fandango!"
"Madam! You mistake me!" Murali replied, "I am a Micro-finance Maven. Just, I jumped out of my plane because, due to Red Tape and Bureaucratic Delay, I didn't want to waste time at Hyderabad Airport. Furthermore, for your kind information, let me tell you I have parachuted here not at all on your account but on my own behalf. I mean to start a grass roots Micro-finance initiative focused on poor women. That my arrival has providentially rescued you from rape at the hands of Evil Landlord Johnny Reddy, whom I knocked unconscious whilst landing, is not due to Compassion or Chivalry or Etiquette or any other such Sentimental- but at heart Socialistic- Nonsense which True Objectivism abhors.'
"I see." said Penny, her heart beating fiercely as she looked into the eyes of Murali- he had two of them and was using both to look Penny in the eye, though she too had two eyes- 'Your explanation is satisfactory. You may proceed with your Micro-finance initiative in a timely fashion. But, stay! My mind misgives me. Might not your Micro-finance initiative itself be a sort of altruism rather than a pure For Profit Globalised Private Equity Brand building exercise?'
"Impossible!' said Murali raising his eyes haughtily.'I have PhDs from not just Georgetown and Jones Town but numerous others from the University of Arizona- which gives them away with every Happy Meal."
"Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much!" replied Penny her eyes flashing though in truth she was very anxious to surrender her virginity to him- perhaps including anal- because she sensed in him a masterly spirit that was indomitable and Truly Objectivist.
Meanwhile, Johhny Reddy had recovered consciousness and, with the help of his evil henchmen, had founded a rival Micro-finance initiative based on giving Government handouts to very poor women and not asking for that money back..
Pointing this out to Penny, Murali pleaded time constraints and suggested postponement of their wooing and eventual coition- definitely including anal- to a more propitious time.
"Methinks the gentleman protests too much!" Penny replied haughtily- for Hell hath no Fury like a woman scorned.
'You said that already.'' Murali pointed out.
'Methinks the gentleman protests too much,' Penny's heart was breaking but she consoled herself that at least she was getting the last word.
'Nay, for sooth!" it was the Evil Landlord Johhny Reddy at the head of millions of poor women, 'it is not the gentleman who protests too much but these millions of protesting poor women you see behind me. They are protesting against the high interest rates charged by For Profit Microfinance. They have all taken a vow never to repay loans from Micro-finance initiatives."
"By Jove, this is a blow!" Murali replied despondently, 'Ye Heavens I cry fie upon thee! You think it sport to hurl me from the airy zephyr where my plane I piloted sans care, down to the black earth of benighted Vidarbha- whose harvest is bountiful in but the smoking pyres of farmer-suicides- only to have the last laugh upon me by denying me even the opportunity to build a Globalized Private Equity Brand through For Profit Micro Finance! I am crushed! I despair! I swoon! I faint! Nay, more- let me declare without meiosis- I die!"
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" said Johhny Reddy laughing evilly, "Thus have I vanquished he who thought to come between me and my prize- where stands the fair Penny that I may without delay ravish her by putting my penis in her vag? What? She has disappeared! That too bearing away the lifeless body of my foe? Can such things be? Argal, if be they must then I must let be! Yet 'ware Penny! for this I swear which I hold most true. Neither sky-bolt nor earthquake shall halt my mounting you!'
Meanwhile, Penny had joined Sanjeev Sabhlok in condemning Arvind Kejriwal as a Satanic Socialist and, taking her message to the Masses, was leaping from teerth to teerth all over India's sacred geography, still clutching the decomposing corpse of her beloved Murali with which she was enjoying coition, albeit entirely of anal variety, by regularly sodomizing him with her rolled up copy of 'The Fountainhead'. So vigorous was this bookish buggery that pieces of Murali's body began to fall on different parts of India, thus creating the sacred Lingas of a Truly Indian True Objectivism whose aim is to ensure that everybody gets a PhD from the University of Arizona- if not a Happy Meal.