"I got the turban!"
"What? What do you need a turban for?" asked Krackaswami, not grasping the significance. "Where is Balakid? I need a big pitcher of iced tea brought to me at once. And this place is such a mess! I can't understand how the Germans could leave it like this! My fur gets all sticky and greasy whenever I lie on the couch. And the bed! I wake up with potato chip crumbs in my ears. Never in my life have I known such careless housekeepers as those Germans! No doubt spending their whole time doing that self-enquiry business. Ouch! There is even broken glass on the floor. I might have to sue them when they get back. What good lawyers do we know? This is reckless endangerment of paws. If we play it right we can get the house as part of the settlement, and some cash for our pain and suffering, Then we can engage some servants. Where is that Bala?"
"I have the turban," said Jagaswami again, when he could get a word in edgeways.
"I have never cared for turbans. Could you get me that iced tea, since Bala is keeping such a low profile?"
"Don't you get it? This turban is probably saturated in the essence of those cubs. How or why such small and insignificant creatures should have such siddhis, I have no idea. And look what use they put them into! They change into elephants to romp and around and get that Annamalai person to laugh and to visit you know who, and then go back to being cubs. The siddhis are being wasted! Utterly wasted, do you hear me Krack? And while you're up on your paws, could you fix me a meal? I'm quite tired and hungry from all my spying work."
"So you think we can use that turban ... to ...."
"Heck, yes! Come over here. There's no reason we can't do that changing thing they do. Come here and hold onto this thing with me. Now what should we change into to draw the hugest crowd? And the biggest tythes? And the deepest surrender to us? We want them all on their knees, imploring us to take at least a 20% cut of their incomes, and calling us ... ha ha ... O Realized Sage ... "
"I think we should be humans .... stunningly handsome ones, regal in bearing. At least, that is how I should look ... you could be ... well, maybe a very nice looking dog ..."
"No! I want to be human too! Here's grip the turban ... let's go ... Om Om Om Let me be a gloriously handsome human!"
"And me too!!!"
They stared at each other. "What am I?" You are sure not looking too human," said Jagaswami.
"Uh, uh ... you aren't either ..."
They rushed to a mirror and their faces fell.
"OK, let's just repeat that ... Om Om Om ... Let us be impressive humans ... er, stunning humans."
Nothing happened.
After dozens of unsuccessful attempts, they decided to call it quits for the day.
"Om Om Om, let us be back to our regular selves."
Again nothing happened. Not even the tiniest change in colour.
They stamped on the little turban and shouted with outrage. The turban proved unsquashable, unsulliable. They even tried spitting on it, but their spit rebounded into their faces with force.
Just as they were getting ready to try something even worse, a huge eagle swooped in the window -- the very same eagle that had stolen the firepot -- and took the turban and flew away.
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