Dear tsunami I really like your name, it has nice ring to
it. But nonetheless you are scary, just look at what you did to the manga
loving- sushi eating Japs last year who named you in the first place (OMG such
ungratefulness darling) and not to forget the 2004 performance in South Asia.
Like I said before (in a post) you are just like a spurned psycho lover.
The doomsday prophet in a big yellow taxi (samsung mobile phone pic)
The temptress
With your non-appearance yesterday, you must have disappointed
quite a lot of doomsday prophets. As luck would have it I met one such prophet
right after the 4.13 pm tremors yesterday. He was a taxi driver. You see the
demented me suddenly had the urge to savour the succulent steak at Oly Pub in
the face of impending destruction of the world by you and your earthquake
cousins. So, from my place I took a taxi to go to that steak heaven, as the metro
services were on hold because of your cousins. The man behind the wheel
happened to be a very friendly fellow, he went on doing the blah blah blah. He
said, “ 2012 will be the end of the world,it may be today”, “they said that
Bardhaman district is facing tidal waves at present,a lot of destruction”, “even the Ganga will see
a tsunami as it touches the Bay of Bengal,Kolkata will be destroyed”…..and this
went on. I made the mistake of questioning the fact that the Ganga will eat up
the city, oh man it was a mistake and I tell you never question a taxi driver,
he will defeat every logic that you give. He answered, “ You can say that
because we have Maa Kali at Kalighat, but that is only for the South of
Kolkata,what about the rest,what about Dum Dum? I was speechless( I mean it)
and thus couldn’t pursue my case even if I wanted to. Dear tsunami I hope you
realise the effect you have on mere mortals.
Coming back to yesterday,I did have a steak with my friends
and we discussed everything apart from you. Believe me my darling, you must try
that steak, it will make you mellower and perhaps you will abandon your plans
of destroying this world. The nutty
scientists out there may crucify me with own laws of heresy ( you see these
poor chaps like Copernicus suffered a lot because of the conservative religious
order in early modern Europe, so forgive them) for addressing you like this.
But I was born with a few screws missing in my head!
Lastly, I offer my
apologies on behalf of mankind for foiling your plans by our will to survive and
like James Bond we will die another day.
So, sorry dear tsunami, better luck next time!!
FYI: This blogpost is by a person who loves to watch Life is
Beautiful time and again. That explains her optimism.
Iman stammered, “It’s a
programme hosted by Maneka Gandhi, I wa-waa-wanted to ask about something…may be
they won’t even open my letter.”
“Oh! That’s fine I’ll post it”, said the proud father of a
girl who had scored a lot of marks in her Class 10 and as far as he knew, she
was going to become a doctor just like her parents.
Unfortunately for him,
his daughter was not too keen on the idea but being a ‘good girl’ she decided
not to object. You see … she had one 'small problem'. The problem would be small
for you and me but it gave her sleepless nights.
“Huh! Princess Diana died in a car crash along with her boyfriend”,
bellowed Iman father’s, he didn’t like the princess, “no morals”, he thought as
he handed the paper to his daughter. Iman avoided looking at the gory picture of
the accident.
Her father understood and he laughed, “You know you can’t
avoid blood and gore if you want to become a doctor. You have to cut up frogs
in your Biology class next year.”
Iman felt a pang of hatred towards her father as the fear of
cutting up anything that oozed blood again crept over her spine. She rushed to
her bathroom. After a few minutes she came out, her hair dripping wet, she
realised there would be more such days in her life.
The sight of blood was Iman’s ‘small problem’, which
according to her mother would be solved after she had ‘gutted’ her first frog. But
she didn’t trust her mother’s easy solution and she dreaded her first dissection
class,which was scheduled the following month. For days she raked her brains
for a solution and finally she hit upon the idea, “ I will write a letter to
Heads& Tails...”
So, that was the letter Iman had given to her father to post.
As soon as she had left for school,her mother rushed forward.
“Open it”, she said.
“Don’t you think…”,mumbled her father. “Okay,Iman is
half-expecting that they won’t read it so it’s fine.”
Thus, the curious parents read the letter,it was addressed
to Maneka Gandhi who hosted the show.
Dear Manekaji,
Can you do something
about dissection of animals in Class 12 Biology class. I think we are
tormenting animals and also tormenting teenagers with such violence. I am in
Class 11 and my parents want me to become a doctor but I am scared of cutting
up a living being for the sake of knowledge. I don’t know whether I will ever
become a doctor but surely I can’t kill anything that has life, I feel cursed.
I know you love animals, I hope you can stop this dissection business in schools
which turns young people into murderers.
Regards,
Anonymous
The content and
the straight-forward tone of the letter stunned both of them. Finally Iman’s
mother said, “We can’t tell her that we know, but poor child she is suffering
so much.”
“ Hmmm… so our daughter will not become a doctor like us,
but I am sure she is destined for greater things in life. Look at her
thoughts…such noble thoughts. We should be proud of her and we must let her do
what she wants, I don’t want my daughter to become a psychological wreck”,
sighed Iman’s father.
The next morning in
school…
“What happened? Did it work?”, asked Sutapa, Iman’s
confidante.
“Hahaha…Mom and Dad told me to go for statistics if I hate
dissection. They tried to show that they knew nothing about the letter but you
should have seen their faces. I had written the letter carefully choosing words
that would carry the desired effect.Anyway,they are good people, who love me
but I couldn’t let them make the mistake of ruining my life. It would have
destroyed them in turn.”
Sutapa twirled a pen between her fingers, “Hmm…anyway it was
a gamble, just like tossing a coin…Heads or Tails, and there was the
possibility of them not opening your letter? ”
Iman leaned towards her friend, her eyes were burning with
confidence, she almost whispered “Sutapa, I am a good girl and you must know that good things happen to
good girls.”
* A weekly programme on exploitation of animals, televised
in the mid-90’s on national television.Maneka Gandhi became known as a animal
rights activist during this time.
No don’t worry this is not one those posts where I will bore
you with examples saying how bad this country is and topping it with some high
voltage intellectual gibberish. It’s just that while performing my morning
ritual,(no silly not the toxin cleansing ritual)i.e. going through the homepage
of Facebook and checking out what my ‘friends’ are upto, I saw this piece of
news posted by a friend which said, “Two
Dalit girls stripped in examination hall in Madhya Pradesh.” You must be
thinking nothing new right? We are horrified at this heinous act but we know
this happens in India, the age old caste system will not be wished away by
reservations or The Scheduled Castes and Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act. But what grabbed my attention and made me write this post
was the comment by the friend, “Proud to be an Indian, think twice.”
She
is not the only one even the ‘Prince of India’ in the aftermath of the
Bhatta-Parsaul violence declared that, "I feelashamedof being anINDIANafter seeing what has
happened here in UP." The only difference between my friend and Rahul
Gandhi (apart from the fact that he is a prince and she is just the aam aurat), is that he was lambasted for
this comment while my friend is getting all the likes and comments saying, “I
agree with you”, “This is disgusting” and so on.
The problem is I am affected by the question, because I know
if not proud I am quite happy to have been born Indian rather than Ugandian
where either you become a child soldier or a sex slave to warlords like Joseph Kony. I know all the critics of the Indian nation will give me all sorts of
logic that how India is one god forsaken country (Mr/Ms Critic want to get a Saudi
Arabian passport?). I do sound caustic but believe me I am tired of the same
old rhetoric, “I am ashamed of being an Indian, a country where blah blah
atrocities/ etc etc injustice happens.”
To tell you the truth I do say sometimes , “Nothing is going
to change in this country”, but it comes from exasperation but I find it very
silly to declare publicly that I am not proud to be an Indian because I know
even the most developed countries have their own set of problems. Americans are
occupying Wall Street, the Germans are protesting in Berlin against nuclear
energy and the UK, well don’t get me started about that country, from the
editorials in The Guardian or The Telegraph one will feel that it is a nation
of unhappy ladies and gentlemen. So, the point is even if I change countries I
will be unhappy and question my love for that country.
Human beings are
imperfect and by that logic we can safely conclude that no country is perfect.
Being proud of our country is beyond us because essentially all of us suffer
from chronic dissatisfaction. Some of
us strive forward in order to ease this dissatisfaction while the rest sit down
in a corner think about it and some of them fill pages with mundane
pseudo-intellectual rhetoric.
Now that 500 words or more have been said I feel it is time
to make the closing statement. To all my friends who are not proud to be
Indians, please do something about your nonsensical blah blahs or say something
new. I have had enough of your age old dissatisfaction to top up my
not-so-perfect life.
PS: I am not sure whether I am a patriotic Indian or whether
I am ready to lay my life for this country, but somehow I can’t control my
lacrimal glands when I hear the National Anthem. It is quite embarrassing to
admit this but sometimes I watch the opening of India vs Any Country cricket
match just to hear the orchestrated rendition of the song.
