Monday, November 8, 2010

The Bus Ride

Today while travelling to office by bus I saw a small play of life enact in front of me. I was in the aisle seat and the window seat was taken by a father son duo. The man looked in his mid or late thirties, worn out clothes and a well used pair of slippers. The boy on his lap was between 2 to three. He was playing with his father’s pen. One moment he would pull it out and next moment he would put it back in. The father was oblivious to all this. He was just making sure the boy is in his lap or at least in his embrace out of any harm in the moving bus.

In all his playfulness the boy pulled the pen again and held it out of the window and said “main ise faink doon”, shall I throw it. On seeing this I felt a pang of terror. Ages ago, when I was a small boy I had done something similar. I had held my mom’s handkerchief out of the moving bus’s window and the kerchief flew away. I got no noticeable punishment for that but somehow the incidence got etched in my mind as a sad incidence. Today when I saw the kid with the pen in his hand, that pain sprang back to life. I was getting tensed. Under my breath I was praying and praying hard, “Oh God make sure the pen does not slip out of the kid’s hand”.

The kid finally pulled his hand in and replaced the pen in his father’s pocket. I took a breath of relief. The kid jumped down from his father’s lap and for this the father scolded him with just one word ‘oye’. Suddenly before anybody could react the boy snatched the pen and threw it out of the window. My heart skipped a beat. The boy had a look of terror. He just realized what he did. The eyes were swelling with tears. And before the moment was lost the father pulled his son into a big hug. He just made a pretence of looking out of the window to see his pen which is not his anymore and then hugged his son again. The small boy hid his face in his father’s chest.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Disclaimer: Aloof itinerant is in a bad mood

Since morning I’m feeling pissed off. Now, don’t bother to ask why. Even if you do you won’t get anything other than a blank look from me.
I’m feeling sleepy and groggy too. I have to reach home early today, so I came to work early. My PoW (place of work) expects we to do so. If that’s not torture then what is?
The bus to PoW is supposed to drop me at a bus stand 1 kilometer away but it dropped me 1 and half kilometer away. I can do without this forced morning workout. I didn’t like it at all; the walk I mean. Anything out of normal worries me.
I am a sissy at heart. To hide that, I force myself to stare at a lizard or a grasshopper, especially when some nubile nymphet is hovering around. Meanwhile I pray they don’t jump on me, either the bug or the nymph; that would have catastrophic consequences to one and all.
My stomach is upset. When is it not? When the food is good it revolts, when not so good it revolts. I guess my stomach is yet to get used to food even after sub-30 years of conscientious effort on my part to feed it.
That speaks a lot about me. At times I feel I’m so bereft of ambition. That’s scary, isn’t it? But I don’t feel scared about it. For me that’s scary.
Something else is scary too. I am a closeted violent person. Today I saw an ugly guy with a beautiful girl, again. I felt like killing the ugly guy, again. I did not do anything, again.
I think I’m writing junk. I’m sure you agree too.
The CWG games are going on smoothly, at least by the yardstick of the ruckus it created before the games started. That’s adding to my frustration. An event in India is no event unless there’s some foreign hand showing up once in a while. But till now the hand has been conspicuous by its absence. I don’t like that. Since morning I have scourged through 3 national, 1 international and 1 irrational (Dawn Pakistan) papers but none of them have anything bad to say about CWG.
Yesterday men’s Hockey team lost to Australia big time. Well, when it does not? Most of the channels did not care to carry the news. Well when do they?
Road to my PoW is all dug up. I don’t like coming to office jumping about. I can do without this forced morning workout. Oh, I think I’m repeating my words. Ignore this one or the last one; whichever is convenient for you.
Talking about jumping, someone from India won bronze in gymnastics yesterday. The kid was jumping around like a 4 year old but without his shoes on. Yet he got the medal. I don’t know if gymnasts are not allowed to wear shoes or the poor boy could not afford one. Or maybe the security personnel did not allow him in with his shoes on. The kid won a medal. Ahh! repeating again. But he could have done better with some slippers on.
By the way I want to meet the performer who came last. Maybe that poor fellow was also having a bad day.
So there’s somebody who also had a bad day. That makes me feel better already.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Somewhere in England in front of a Church, a man set up a booze shop ("daru ka theka" in local parlance). The members of the church were mighty annoyed. They filed a case against the shop owner. The case was summarily rejected. The shop owner had followed every rule before setting up his biz. So there was no case against him.

The church members did everything legal they could think of to force the man shut his shop but with no success. And at the end, wholly exasperated, they got down to do what they are good at. Every morning and evening after the regular church prayers they would stand at the church gate and point their fingers at the liquor shop and would pray to their Lord with raised voices for thunderbolts to strike the shop.

And one day a big lightning piercing the breast of the clouds did strike the shop and razed it to ashes.

The shop owner now filed a case against the church holding them responsible for the bolt. The court sent a notice to the Church. The church retorted with a "not guilty" response.

The judge commented, "I am confronted with a case where an alcohol seller believes in the existence of God and a Church which does not".

I do not know on whose favor did the judge rule, but what I know for sure is, life is full of many such paradoxes. And Sri Muthalik is a case in point. Beating women in public, doing goondagiri in the name of culture is within the ambit of decency and democracy in the year 2009. But in 2010 when it's time for him to reap what he sowed just one year back, he changes the definition. He was slapped and black paint was smeared on his face, but that was his teaching. Then how could he protect?

Lucky for you Sri Muthalik that not much has changed for me between 2009 and 2010. I did not support what you did last year. So I am forced to lodge my protest against those who did what they did to you.

Our culture is much beyond all the profanities in the world. So we can survive without anyone's moral policing. And democracy, well, we love it the way it is, unchanged in 2009, 2010 and will definitely remain so in many more years to come.

And the pink chaddi above is dedicated to all narrow minded cheap people who think a girl's honour lies only in her repressed sexuality. To know more about what I am speaking click here.