..and you are a sucker

Dear Nirmal Baba,

Waddup? Saw Sherlyn Chopra’s pictures yet? C’mon stop blushing, you jerk. With all due respect, I am your fan and you, a sucker. I can stop here, but I wont.

I know how gratifying the business of fooling people, can be. Trust me, when I say that. It’s like a power bestowed upon you by the morons, showering you with loads of money and allowing you to fuck with them. Can life be any better? You have failed all the comic videos, movies, sitcoms that I’ve ever come across in my life. You sir, are a joke personified. Very early in my life, I’d realised, if you can’t fix them, fool them. This is a right thing to do with a society where people kill living beings in the name of a stone, that they call god, where people fuck their present in an attempt to make their future, which may not come, where every Tom, Dick and Harry has an opinion about their neighbour’s daughter, where kids are judged on the basis of their marks and adults, their salary, a society, that prays the goddess in the temple and fucks a woman on the streets, where people do not eat flesh on Tuesdays and reason it on flimsy grounds, where people watch movies like Rab ne bana di Jodi and call it amazing, where, people work their asses off to buy something that they don’t need. They’re already screwed, screw them more. I love the depth in your blank look, sire. I mean, your straight face comedy and resisting the haha-you-sucker-now-payme-and-get-the-fuck-outta-here, cannot be stated in words. You’re a marvel. Please ask your next victim bhakt, to wear hot pink and dance on the streets, it’d be legendary. I wish I could borrow just one drop of awesomeness from you and take the torch of fooling the humanity for generations to come, ahead. Look at you, you can make people buy things like, Eat pasta because your house is made up of bricks or drink jaljeera because unicorns can fly. I mean, beat that shit!  You bring humour to my mundane life so much so that thank you, sounds and means so small. I hope I grow up to become like you. Give me strength to be a bad example for all the generations to come and fuck the already fucked masses. I hope I never let you down in this noble cause and no soul remains untouched by irrationality, stupidity, ignorance and disgust. Amen!

And bro, you’re such a jerk.

Sincerely,

Baba_bakwaas

Where am I safe?

I am a woman who has lived in Delhi for over two decades now. The lessons that my folks taught me as a kid and during all those growing years are a result of the fact that I’ve grown up in a city where over a dozen women get raped and molested every single day. Eve-teasing, verbal molestation and getting stared at, at every nook and corner of the city is a daily affair. I don’t know, when I step out, whether I would come back home, safe. I have grown up living in a fear, that one day, half a dozen men will pull me into their Omni, rape me and render me worthless to my family and to my country. We live in a country where a woman getting raped means, she loses her purity and chastity and that her body is a temple and all that crap. These pseudo ethics were imbibed in me too, by our very own bollywood, news channels and every other media that influences a kid’s mind. I’ve grown up only to realise, this is all bullshit. But I’m still not safe here and I don’t know who, should I write this to. I walk on the road and if a car inches towards me, I change my path. I do not help random men on the road. If I’m alone in an elevator and a man comes in, I walk out. I avoid wearing skirts and shorts in public to avoid getting stared at. And no, I’m not paranoid. Ask a girl and she’ll know what I’m talking about. I am not at peace in my own homeland, my own country. Where should I go? I have been taught to ignore the jerks and their cheesy comments on the roads because apparently if I dare to fight back, I might ‘hurt’ the fucker’s ego and end up getting raped. To say the least, I don’t know what we are growing into. The country’s future is in the bars, drinking their lives away, surrounded by the smoke of the fancy hookas and a girl wrapped around their arms who, more often than not, gets pregnant at the age of 14. Everybody else is too busy blaming everything that’s wrong about their lives on everybody else. You tell women to leave their offices early so that they don’t get victimised? You tell them what to wear and what not so that they don’t ‘tempt’ the men to rape them.  Do you listen to yourself? Is that how you deal with a problem? I don’t trust, any of you to run my country. The windows of our future shut upon our lives like catacombs. I don’t trust the pseudo wisdom of the society that outrages about every superficial hoopla and the weeds that are corroding our roots and eating away our country are effortlessly ignored. I recall, some years back, while crossing a road, a Delhi Police van, full of police officers, passed by and I very clearly remember, one of them passed an obscene comment with a vicious smile, while the other whistled at me. Those were the men who maintain the law and order in the city. That day is imprinted in my memory, for I was left flabbergasted. Not because yet another man misbehaved with me on the road, that’s a routine affair. Because ,the policemen did it. A little something in me, died that day for nothing hurts more than losing hope and trust. Who would I go to, when something bad happens to me? Who should I trust? From bad mouthed auto drivers to horny fuckers in the metro dying to rape your personal space in a disgusting attempt to inappropriately touch you, to attain what? Nirvana? And beat the fuck out of the woman’s life. I’m no where safe. Not in the school, college, home, office, metro, road, bus, you name it. I will continue to express my dissent to the laws that objectify me and tell me what to wear and when to move out. I live here with a disgust and a fear that one fine day my story will feature in the daily newspaper and yet again, the page will be flipped and yet again, dismissed.

Pyaare Deshwasiyon,

Pyaare Deshwasiyon,

What are you all wasting your time on, today?  Are you still talking about Satyamev Jayate and pretending to care or have you switched to your regular stock of porn, lately? Your maid showed up today? No? Sad. Did you update your facebook status today and counted the number of ‘likes’? Did you like your own status and commented, ‘thanks for the ‘like’, Sakshi’ .I’m sure you have.  How did you come across as cool, among your peers?  Dinner pictures at Maurya? Very cool. Did you tune in to Nirmal baba’s samagams? No? Your life’s a waste. We live in a country where Karishma Kapoor goes on national television and claims that the only way pregnancy changed her life is, skin pigmentation and dullness. Now I totally understand the teenagers who are so fucked in head that they download an episode of Splitsvilla if they happen to miss it. If you ask me, there should be a qualifying test for parenting, if you pass that, you’re allowed to have kids. There’s no other event as life changing as delivering a baby, you get to nurture the goddamn kid, build his character, teach him right and wrong, make him aware of good and evil. Tell him to shut the fuck up and study to serve his country. But, no, the only way your life changes, reflects in your stretch marks, fucking pigmentation and change in your already fucked statistics. Either you are mentally dead or blind or both. I mean, look at us. We are so screwed. We take such things for granted and take shit like Facebook seriously. When will we grow up and atleast accept our flaws? How will we ever evolve as a society, nature too, it seems, has given up on us. Anyway , moving on.  The more critical issue that needs immediate attention is, I cannot decide what is more pathetic, Bol Bacchan’s trailors or Priyanka Chopra’s Garnier commercial.  Also, I have realised and accepted the fact that it is easier to fool people than to put some sense into them. And the only way to make it big in this country is getting into a business of fooling people. Nirmal baba. Ramdev. Asharam Bapu. And likes.  I may also, predict the end of the universe in some random year, say, 17 Oct 4009 and scare the shit outta people living in that era. Just like the Mayans did. It’d be so cool. Anyway, don’t forget to tell your neighbour’s daughter that she shouldn’t wear those shorts. Afterall, you were born to interfere in others’ businesses. Just like goddess Parvati, she was born to marry Lord Shiv. I mean, beat that shit. She was just born to marry. These stories mock themselves. But who cares? Let’s go back and login to our virtual alternative and let others know what we had for breakfast. Cool?

Yours,

You-know-who