In Gullu Butt’s shape, the filth and puss of our political system, so carefully covered up under a shiny crust of glitzy infrastructural development, bubbled to the surface like an overflowing gutter.
In a rage of orchestrated frenzy, Gullu smashed cars and smashed the façade of efficient governance.
Can all the king’s horses and all the king’s men put Humpty Dumpty together again? Within the noxious mound of political muck, Gullu Butt is a small creepy crawly with big fangs. But he symbolises the dark underbelly of a structure that reeks of pungent hypocrisy.
This is a structure lovingly constructed to hide the rot within; a system that believes not in curing the festering and bleeding wound, but wrapping it up inside an expensive bandage. But then Gullus of the world crawl out of this wound, bloodying the bandage and exposing the unhealed skin and bone inside.