Shed Your Own or Rip Theirs Off ?

My Guest Post on 'The Unwise Prevails over the Wise'

A preview  -

Also, for girls to shed clothes one has to arouse passions. Dirty minds, I am talking about nationalistic passions here. Just the way Dhoni and his men did on the eve of the World cup. The patriotism reached such a crescendo that a certain model was ready to bare all for the World Cup winners. Of course, it’s debatable whether the proposed act of generosity was for self promotion or passions; patriotic or otherwise.

Coming back to Putin, his campaign took off with a bang. Young pretty women made a lingerie calendar with personal messages for their beloved Putin and sang songs, “I want a man like Putin”. It is tough to imagine Indian girls doing that for Manmohan or Advani?

Click here http://prateek-bagri.blogspot.com/2011/07/crazy-about-man-mohan-are-we.html

Marriage Commercials

I had read about matrimonial commercials but never gave much thought to the new trend of self advertising. A well placed, decent looking cousin of mine has been bride hunting for the past three years, without any luck. His last resort was a matrimonial site. The dot com guys declared that the prospective groom was not exciting enough to make a dent in the marriage market. He needed to strut his stuff in an on-line video to advertise his attributes.

Thank heavens, I am not a part of the present day saturated marriage market. Days of bio data’s, auntyji’s and panditji’s as match makers are long over. We live in a world where we think and remember with the help of Google. Cupid now travels the World Wide Web to strike via bits and bytes.

That set me thinking. If I were to make a video to sell myself today I would never get hitched for life. To start with, I would have serious issues with shooting my matrimonial commercial. Imagine being shot while stirring a pot to demonstrate culinary skills or kicking a football to demonstrate sporting abilities?

Rewinding the nostalgic reel, I recall that when my parents announced that a prospective groom’s family was coming to ‘see me’, I revolted. There was a big furor. As someone has said that at twenty one your angst is unique and earth shattering. It’s like acne, everyone’s got it and it’s not that bad. Coupled with my angst, was a filmy scene etched on my mind.

That the girl always dressed in a sari enters with a tray and the girl’s mother says, “Please taste this, hamari Meena/Reena…whatever ne apne hathon se banaya hai.”  The girl’s father is humility personified, ready to drop his pagri any moment. The boy twiddles his fingers and shuffles his feet not knowing where to look. Or he gawks at the girl, all pop eyed. The boy’s mother is always obese and never forgets to ask the girl to strut just to make sure that the girl is not lame.

Several tantrums later, my parents were forced to arrange a meeting away from home.  What happened that day was entirely different from what I had assumed. Of course, I got married to the same person who came to ‘meet-me’ and not to ‘see-me’ that day.

The scene is different today.
 

The homely ones are booked in advance. With fixed ideas, the modern working ones are in no hurry. My bride hunting cousin recently acquired a decent small car. One prospective bride refused to proceed because she thought the boy had a tacky boring car. Someone with a bike would be more exciting, she thought. Another girl thought that the car was much below her status and that the boy was not macho enough.The guy was doomed and damned both ways.

So boys, if you don’t have a girlfriend whom you plan to marry or an auntyji who can fix you, tighten your seat belts for turbulent times. Start shooting a self video on your handy cam. Strum that guitar lying idle in your room, strut your stuff, and don’t forget to build your abs.

As for girls looking for conjugal bliss the trick is to strike the right chord. If the groom is besotted with adventure sports and gaming then a visual of the future bride operating PlayStation Portable or enjoying Counter Strike might catch fancy. A few shots of huffing and puffing on the treadmill will do no harm either. What if the boy is a Hindi movie buff? Then a hair blowing in the wind and a flying chiffon saree moment can set off wedding bells.

 At any cost your matrimonial commercial has to create ripples in the marriage market. So spice it up. Or hope for divine intervention. Those who are grinning because they are already married, thank the Lord that ‘hamare zamane mein to yeh sab nahin hota tha’.

WHY

Mr. Terrorist,

 I think you have got it all wrong. Please don’t get angry, I am only trying to understand your cause. I am sure you have a motive behind the great pains you take to conduct blasts. What exactly is your motive?

To kill innocent men, women and children?

To challenge the Indian state?

 Is it revenge ?

Do you wish to attain Kashmir by acts of violence?

 Or do you simply derive sadistic pleasure over gory scenes of blood soaked bodies strewn all over? What is it?

I am sure you are intelligent enough to comprehend the fact that killing innocent people is not helping your cause. You can continue the mayhem and achieve nothing for the next hundred years. That’s clear isn’t it? So what exactly do you want?

Of course if you wish to abuse someone feel free to use the word - resilient. It has become an invective. You see, people have no choice. What does one do when hit by the biggest calamity in life? Rebuild and restart. The cowards of course have the option of jumping on the train tracks or hanging from a fan.

If your aim is to challenge the Indian state, your idea stems from a basic misconception. The Indian state does not value human life. It’s the cheapest commodity available. And in plenty. When you execute an attack, you simply provide fodder for the two main political parties to indulge in their favorite sport - tu-tu mein mein. It is time for them to see saffron and green hues in red - the color of blood. I sometimes wonder what color blood flows in their own veins. Is it saffron or green? Perhaps there is no blood. Only disgusting, toxic and polluted politics flows in their veins.

I know that you derive strength from the fact that a majority of politicians and policemen in Maharashtra are not hand in glove but hand in pocket with the underworld. As long as the powerful are safe in their security bubbles you have a free run. And even if you get caught, you can lead a safe, protected life in jail where the home minister will come and ask you, “kaise ho bhai?”

If your aim is to stop the foreign investors, then also your strategy is not working. I am sure you are aware that the sensex rebounds after every bomb attack. Why then? But I would be very interested to know where your funds flow from. Who wants to see India’s growth story dying a natural death? Whoever it is need not worry, our leaders have done a great job of smothering the ‘India Story’. The world no longer talkes about China and India in the same breath.

If you aim to take revenge  then also this method of random blasts is not working. An eye for an eye will make the whole world blind. Also in random attacks you are not sure that the body being ripped apart is that of a saffron blooded citizen or a green blooded one. Can you? 

I doubt if it’s your love for Kashmir which makes you indulge in such acts. Money maybe! So if you want, money please target the Swiss banks. I have heard there’s loads of cash stacked there.

Finally if you are a sadist and love to see gory scenes, why not play some video games. There are plenty of them available easily. This is a request, please spare the common man. He is already dead managing daily stresses of life and two square meals a day. Why kill him again?

.

The Loo Factor

Thanks to Delhi Belly ‘Shit’ is a Hit. And since human excreta is the flavor of the season ….oops, I mean the current topic let me declare that this post is all about yucky muck. Continue reading at your own peril, only if you are willing to face the stinking reality.

Wonderful. The water and sanitation minister Mr. Gurudas Kamat has resigned even before assuming office. Who needs drinking water and sanitation ministry? It’s like being the nation’s top sweeper. How degrading! Since we already have wonderful standards of hygiene, the focus for most is on meaty ministries like the civil aviation or the Railways. And they then slowly proceed to milk them and kill them the way a former aviation minister smothered Air India.

Last week while I was waiting for a friend at the New Delhi Railway station, a whiff of stench shook me in more ways than one. The stench wafting from the excreta on the tracks was a distressing enough. In a matter of seconds I went from exasperated to nauseated!

 Indian Railways, which proudly associated itself with the CWG as the largest sponsor, showers human excreta across the length and the breadth of the nation in dollops. The efforts to create bio-toilets are yet to see light. Forget clean water, fresh food or a clean blanket, fecal aroma is guaranteed! Yes, the problem is compounded due to sheer volume of passengers. We couldn’t do anything in five decades. As a result the juggernaut continues to spray muck on the tracks. 

 Railway ministry is a wonderful tool to cultivate and nurture constituencies. Hygiene and safety can take a long holiday. Another great opportunity is a railway accident, like the recent Howrah Kalka Mail. Like vultures to bodies, sensitive  political souls, all feasted and burped at the victim’s plight, some at the accident site while others at a Kanpur hospital. The  vultures knew that the state was going to the polls soon.  Shameless creatures! Vultures I mean.

A curious case of misplaced priorities is visible all around. I live in a place touted to be the Singapore of India – Gurgaon. Only, I was not aware that Singapore had long power cuts, cratered roads, piles of garbage and no sewage system in place. After the malls and skyscrapers have mushroomed, the city is grappling with waste disposal. Complexes with exotic names like Malibu Town are pumping sewage in their own rainwater harvesting plant constructed by the residents. Swirling sewage alongside roads is an open stinking reality. Let’s have Pod taxis on the lines of Heathrow; who needs sewage disposal?

Reading an article in the newspaper I was aghast to read that in Delhi, the national capital, forty percent of sewage flows untreated into the Yamuna. Along with it goes toxic medical waste. What are we drinking? Exactly what Morarji Desai prescribed for a long life, so why bother?

A documentary called ‘Fecal Attraction’ based on death of Yamuna had its producers asking random people two simple questions, “Where do you get the water from and where does your shit go?”

“I guess the water comes from the Yamuna. And the shit goes there only.”

“Hain shit? It goes somewhere automatically man…”

India generates 38, ooo million liters of sewage every day. And guess where it goes, untreated?.

When you say ‘it goes somewhere automatically man’, remember it goes to the water we drink and the carrots we nibble. Pardon me for taking the crunch away from your carrots.

The paradox of our times is that we do bigger things, but not better things. Hell, lay those sewer lines and build those waste disposal plants before expanding the infrastructure any further. Before building skyscrapers, elevated corridors for Pod taxis and before visiting Mars….

And don’t degrade the water and sanitation ministry Mr Kamath, the nation needs it more than any other.
If you thought drinking water was below your dignity, I am glad you resigned even before taking charge.

KOHL LINED EYES

A bird trapped in a room fluttering with fear, or an eagle keen to soar  with blood on her claws? 

The stoic face revealed nothing. The kohl lined eyes remained expressionless. The eyes had witnessed a ghastly killing. At that point did they widen in horror? Or did they narrow with hatred.  Perhaps the vision blinded with shock.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a0yu2tQ6zBo

Did the hands shudder while buying a butcher’s knife? Fingers which might have ruffled the young man’s hair at some point, did they quiver while shoving him in a sports bag?

 Did those black stilettos worn at the press conference realize they were treading on a grieving mothers heart? 

When she bought a perfume to remove the emanating stench, she did not realize that it will never go away.

And as for drama, there was that too. The girl’s lawyer organized a press conference to inform that the young boy was not hacked into 300 pieces but only 5 pieces. And in all his wisdom he thought that the fewer number made Maria a good girl.

The wannabe who was so desperate for a small role in a television serial that she was ready to sleep with the boy who she later disposed off in a sports bag is now being offered lead roles in movies. How ironical!

Then we have Mr. Ram Gopal Verma who loves to drool over human loss, vicariously feasting on human grief satisfying his creative cravings. Immediately after 26/11 he had visited The Taj, the scene of death and mayhem.  He wanted to make a film based on the terror attacks. Now he wants to play with the emotions of parents who wait for some sense of closure. Similarly a certain nobody called Kamal Khan had announced a movie on the Arushi murder case depicting the parents as killers, even before judgment had been pronounced.

Forget RGV, the intellectual twiterati are finding humor in the case.  A newspaper from Mumbai has published a distasteful war of repartees. I don’t find this wrestling of intellectual superiority funny at all.

Suhel Seth tweets:  “Now that the devilish Maria is free, she could endorse some brand of knife!!!”

To which Pritish Nandy quickly replies: “Lesson#1 for @suhelseth: Do not call any woman devilish simply because you can’t handle her.”

Seth suggested that Nandy try casting Maria in one in one of his films but “just make sure there's no couch...she'll take Bobbit to another level!”

Nandy replies: “Maria can only be cast as Maria, as of now. And she has shown that her surgical skills are far better than Lorena Bobbit's.”

Firstly it was Jerome who allegedly hacked the young man and Maria was an accomplice. These Bobbit jokes are not helping the cause anyway. Do we not feel anything for the hapless parents of the murdered boy? The judge has ordered Maria Susairaj to pay Rs. 50,000 and Emile Jerome Rs. 1 lakh to Neeraj Grover’s parents as fine. Why insult Grover's family with any amount? 

The only silver lining in this gory murder case is that a section of media is providing a voice to the victims (Priyadarshini Mattoo, Ruchika Girotra, Jessica Lall) and highlighting the injustice done.

What is unfortunate is that we love to reduce everything to tabloid level tamasha. Am I indulging in the same crime of sensationalizing the issue? I hope not. The aim is to sensitize and not sensationalize. 

One man’s tragedy need not be another man’s entertainment.