123 and still counting wrong

This is a blog i wrote in a sudden bout of aggression, on the 21st of july 2008. Today is the 4th of september. again i feel the same irritable sick uneasiness at the indian political sham. i just felt i do not have to comment on politics at all any more. i just have to copy and paste whatever i had written earlier! i may be shameless in doing this, but is it not natural since i am an indian!

July 21 2008

Ah! The nation is going to vote! Vote for trust!

Trust? Ah, come on.

123- elementary? No way. India is unique.

We are democratic, secular, ancient- never decent. We take pride in our idiosyncrasies.

Have you ever thought about the fact that all of us carry disposable faecal matter in our abdomens, which can be flushed away soon, if only we sit on the seat long enough? We go to sacrosanct places carrying this, after washing our face, body, feet and everything external- of course the mind is internal and need never be washed. Feel like shit? I do.

I participated in the circus of democracy. I voted. I needed a representative more than a commode that day. Memories!! Can they be purged? Do I now sit and read our `news’papers or bend over and put a finger deep in my mouth (having metaphorically already done with that age-old foot)?

Here we were, thought I, the ephemeral idiot of India, witnessing the dawn of a new era. Economists in control, scientist at the helm, IIT_IIM briefly-reacting-patriots in the cheer leader gang. The left- ha, even my caps-lock is not working for them, so may this sentence end its self-inflicted torture,and I, with left-over hangovers of the left, overcome youth, pant, sigh, curse and try to write. Words too are always inside waiting to be left out- shit!

Trust vote! This term makes me feel that I did not vote with trust. Maybe my trust was not counted as a vote. `How many more’ scream the TV headlines in mute ( I cant bear to see and smell shit, so I chose to close my nose when I pass human stinky excreta, and, modifying or adapting my behaviour , only when I see or hear news – doing both is suicidal. I am supposed to be a part of the betting blackguards ( by the way black or black wearing guards were never a problem to anyone), and I am supposed to bite my nails and wait for my driver to take me to a pub and say “hey what do you think will happen”, as though anyone knows. I trust my beer even only sometimes- it is often adulterated.

I am not going to a pub/club/water-hole this evening. I am staying at home. Watching.

Why do I watch this crap? Am I masochistic? I inflict this torture of seeing my world, my country screw itself up not even for a gymnastic medal; and I do it every day- almost to a point of addiction where I get jitters if I don’t see or hear the latest lie. And, the latest lie is the ~’trust’vote. I am not holding even a single share worth the non-existent paisa. I have become as passive as my other countrymen- I wondered if I should say fellow countrymen and I chose not to, because I have no fellowship with fellow-indians and other country’s men( no gender crap in this term, except convenience). They too seem to be like me suffering in a self-effacing silence. A silence so strong that it is never disturbed!Therefore was black more beautiful, and therefore is inflation not hurting!

I happened to see a vocal defense of the trust vote ( one has to defend trust nowadays), which said 123-IAEA,N_D, whatever the crap is, was like getting a passport and visa to the nuclear club(?)- that sounded neat. Only, I wouldn’t apply for a visa when someone important to me is in the critical care- (got it? You cant if you are an Indian).

Who are these clowns? How did they enter `my’ circus? Did I ever `purchase’ a ticket to this circus? I have, though I understand so only in retrospection. I have a ration card, a passport, a voter ID- most of which cant be used for many official purposes ( I had the harrowing experience of meeting and hearing someone say my passport, incidentally issued on behalf of the president of India, is not a valid document- and at that time pratiba was not my president).

With the distractions designed by my mind’s computations and the distractions forced by the machine that promises to compute for me, I pondered and wished I have never started this exercise. Of what use is retrospection and reminiscence? Of what use is looking back when falling? Of what use is gaping at a dream when reality slaps?

****

Honestly I have never welcomed a break in writing when thoughts gush, but this paragraph continues with the same vigor I experienced earlier. I had to go and see an ailing man stuffed in a hospital, not of ( or from) his own makings, suffering the ignomity by self as much as the inconvenience experienced by his family, waiting to be discharged, hoping to be well, yet wishing for a little more attention! Was he representing India?

Having a pang of (imposed-economic, in this case a socio-psychological) crisis ( that’s how a novice like me would understand if local markets fall when US markets slump), admitted in critical care and offered the best available concern and treatment ( if ever there was any), promised concern and affectionate over-seeing ( a word understood differently across oceans), left to battle his own torments ( like the average Indian consumer) with a bored wife as the accompanying vigil ( much alike me, the watchful, weary and non-fighting Indian), here was a man I saw who could have in his heydays declared some worthy and some not ( oh, he was a govt. official – neither Kafkaesque nor Gogolic, just Indian), being declared as sick when he was not `that’ sick, hospitalized when he need not have had even an injection poked on him, waiting for the doctor when he did not ever need one) for atleast the past (( and may not inshah allah not for the next many) 12 months and he was India to me. Me, is the person in Tamilnadu, India. And, being thus, I count 123.

123 is what? 6? ( by multiplication) 2? (between one and two), simple enumeration? If this can trigger so much of crap in my head, then what about 271+? ( for the un-enlightened, I studied composite maths , which by the way had trigonometry which I have in my honest belief never used so far in my life, in school and got a first class). I don’t like numbers, they are like currency denominations which have always evaded my best calculations. But this is a number I should watch out albeit for the next twelve hours.

This is supposed to tell me who, if at all any, is going to govern me. And I even say in my profiles that I am left!!! Left, YES, without!!! ( a la the leftists of India who have left all ideologies- check Bengal). Who the *%#* ( I have suffered to type these politically correct typos) governs me?

I presumed that in a democracy one governs oneself since one elects who governs him/her. No way. Like many of my presumptions ( including the one I have held dear for the past 40 years that India was the best), I was and am wrong. Thank god that I did not go into gambling. We are as sick and full of shit as our other country men.

Why the &%^&* are we sick? What ails us?

Too many symptoms and too many signs!!! Signs are what the experts see and symptoms are what you feel! Who is the expert? I thought our PM & FM were! They are good at numbers, though some of my economist –friends would say no. now I can smirk! They are f***** good at numbers- not the simple shit of 123 but 271.

Am I angry or am I sad? Am I disgusted? Am I ——–me?

If I am worried I am sick. If I am concerned I am ok. This is what one of my teachers told me.

After this I went to sleep and had no nightmares.

22/7 d day- damned, disturbing, dehumanizing…

I listened and watched TV ! I wanted to hear rahul’s voice and diction- neither impressed. Then came lalooo! Everyone, even the opposition were laughing. Jokes poured on the country? For whatever reasons not necessarily designed by providence, I stopped with these lines…and wow. What a spectacle! That should be another blog! But then others would be writing too on it….how long can I keep vomiting?

well, since all is not well, let us keep counting the days for future to dawn brighter. like the prisoners behind the bars. let us keep counting, we cant be going wrong forever!

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2 Comments on “123 and still counting wrong”

  1. brida Says:

    give comments

  2. rudhran Says:

    when i first wrote in ibibo blog there were comments, but since the issue is not exactly current, though the sham is perennial, no comments have come up


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