Adolf Hitler did not commit suicide. Nor was he killed. He was cryogenically frozen by the juice so he could be punished by their masses when they repopulated on the planet.
Fortunately for him, their breed got greedy, and sold his frozen body to the highest bidder. The bidder was on his way to Japan to do tests on the great dictator’s temperament, when he decided a stopover in Manali was a good idea.
Within 7 days, global warming and insane amounts of smoke led to the ice melting. The tyrant was free.
But the first hit of fresh air had something in it…something he hadn’t smelt during his days as a monstrous murdering sonofabitch. and the music that played had an equally blasphemous effect on him. Marley’s ‘sun is shining’ was oozing out the speakers of the lil shack he was in.
His buyer ran for his life down the hills, but Dolfy just looked around in awe…as he felt his body go through warmth he had never felt before. He put on the red gown he found in the corner of the shack…and walked around, taking in a good whiff of everything he could smell. Loving every moment, loving the sunshine, loving the hills, loving the blue skies, loving the trees, loving the people… which was strange. The hill people didn’t know hitler. They mingled with him, and even tried to teach him how to ‘roll a doob’ as pot smokers these days call it. Since his fingers were still freezing thanks to being in ice for 60+ years, they told him to eat it instead. Adolf, for the first time in over a century of existence, was happy.
He looked at the red gown he had on, and it had a tag that said ‘The Assram’, Koregaon Park, Pune.
Happy Hitler then took a bag full of whatever the hill people gave him, and headed down south to amchi pune.
By the time he arrived, he had been numbed with feelings of ‘love and peace’.
Adolf Hitler had turned over a new leaf. He was hippy hitler now. He was happy. Hippy hitler was happy. He liked reggae music, and occasionally danced to rnb and west coast hip hop too, but condemned gang violence and ‘gangsta’ music. “those mutter-fukhhhurz are cressy”, he said “leave and let leave”.
He walked into a party@high one night and people thought he was someone in a costume. They tried to pull his face off thinking it was a mask. In a split-second fit of rage, he took an iron rod and beat an irritating bawa almost to death. He felt bad for a few minutes, but then continued dancing to reggae soon and he forgave the bawa for trying to tear his face off. They made peace, but for some reason, he saw history in the bawa. People don’t change, only circumstances do – he thought to himself. It was a strange feeling. He looked at the glass of juice a scantily clad woman was holding. he realized by now that juice glasses always glared back at him. He hated juice. He drank beer.
Hitler now lives in a nice lil house in Pune, surrounded by greens and good friends and a daft but sweet dog, smoking greens and chilling with greater friends, and occasionally going out to dance to reggae. He reads a lot. He reads about music and movies. About the great 70s and the hippies. He can’t understand why they were so difficult to understand. He reads about how the bushes and bills and the obamas and osamas of the world are desperately trying to do what he did many many decades ago.