Monday, February 18, 2008

Dear Subbu

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

Nanga Fakir: (Faintly amused) "Nope."

"Ever had one?"

Nanga Fakir: (More amusement) "No."

(Slightly incredulous) "What do you do to pass free time then?"

Nanga Fakir: "Goofy comics, seedy pulp fiction, ultra violent anime."

" are you lucky!"

Nanga Fakir: (Smiling from ear to ear) "I know."

Another V Day passes.

Subbu, take heart. Don't die yet.

Friday, February 15, 2008

The Outsiders

Bangys have finally risen against the nitwit immigrant population (Link).

CJ is a happy soul I am sure. Many a time during many a conversation, his semi-humorous, semi-serious loathing against non Kannadigas (especially stupid philistine Northies) came to the fore. I don't know if he knew that among the worst of the worst immigrant philistines that he poked fun at, I should have, on all counts, figured at the top of the list on account of my prominent connections with East UP and Bhojpuri culture. If he pokes fun at the laborer class, then most of them are from UP. If he pokes fun at Northies (read Hindi speaking junta) then too I am indicted for having played a part in soiling the glorious culture.

I did not have a particularly nice time in Bangalore either. That I lived in an obscure corner which most Bangys themselves would not know about didn't help matters much either. The auto rickshaw guys fleeced me regularly. The buses were few and far in between. Was it because of the cultural stain that my people were on the immaculate fabric of Kannada culture? I don't think so.

Did I get pissed off when 'my people' were ridiculed? Not at all. I'd like to imagine that I am at the forefront of such 'ridiculous' activities. But of all emotions that could've surfaced, the most prominent one was that of immense surprise. That genuinely smart people like CJ would hold the views that they do (some of his more outrageous ones are simply to ruffle stupid politically correct people's feathers) comes across to me more as a problem of the remarkable existence (and domination) of irrationality in humans as a whole - irrespective of how smart/brilliant/talented they are individually.

But we - the poor, stupid, backward, uneducated, uncultured blundering buffoons (read UP/Biharis) get fucked wherever we care to go. Mumbaikars are pissed off with us and they'd hate to let us see our "Sasura Bada Paisa Wala" and "Ab ta Ban_ja Sajanwa Hamaar". Modern Bangys hate us because we can't speak English and don't understand the power of Rock and Roll. Old Bangys hate us because we speak Hindi/don't learn Kannada, are insular, are hell bent on polluting Kannada culture and are a general nuisance. Delhi hates us because we eat up resources which don't exist back there in our state. (Link)

Bascially, we are to India, what India was to the world twenty years ago -- poor, corrupt, diseased and showing no chances of recovery. South Indian mothers are afraid to send their children anywhere more north than Mumbai (AK's mom fretted if in IIT Kanpur, he will be eaten alive by mysterious Northie rakshasas).

What is the solution to the problem? And more importantly, does there exist a solution if you have people decrying the strain immigrant junta are on their resources in one breath and congratulating themselves on the success of their US placed sons/daughters in the other?

Being the misanthrope that I am, I think not. What I think will happen is that every now and then, some smart guy, to his advantage, will stir up and manipulate gullible (read stupid) junta into killing some poor rickshaw pulling sons of bitches from the Dark Land (read UP-Bihar). This will lead to the consolidation of the poor Northy in the civilised South. Which will entail a demand for a representative of the community during elections. This will help some Northy parties fight it out for the chunk of the aforementioned votes. Since BJP plays the culture card, it wouldn't be able to side with the cultural polluters in the South. These poor fellows will find their true leader in the charismatic Mayawati of the BSP. Slowly the spread of the BSP will increase and in due time BSP will will rule the Centre leading to the entire MG Road in Bangalore being turned into Parivartan Chauk II.

(Link to news of Mayawati's Prime Ministerial ambitions)

A Bangy will then rise to beat the shit out of the Northy motherfuckers. He will be called CJ. And so shall Mayawati be assassinated.

PS: Although the Garden City of India is Bangalore, I still think that there are more gardens/parks in a mere one kilometre radius around Parivartan Chauk in Lucknow than there are in the entire city of Bangalore.

Friday, February 08, 2008

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

Sin sat on his throne -- a tattered, rickety old chair. Yesterday, his close friend Winter had emailed him, informing Sin of his worsening disease and possible death which seemed merely a matter of time. "That Death is a close childhood friend who would see to it that the demise will be as smooth as possible is a slight comfort, but only slightly so...", the email remarked.

Sin concurred. Visitation by this close childhood friend was not an agreeable proposition.

He imagined Winter in his youth. Terrible, implacable, exacting and harsh (and pretty dashing too!). He saw him now as a toothless caricature whose only signs of virility were infrequent attacks of incontinence. Who would believe that entire planets were once covered with his excrement and that humans the world over shivered under the spell of his thunderous farts!

Humans...He gnashed his teeth as he thought about the culprits. They had been at his throat ever since he could imagine them. Through sheer luck and genius he had not fallen victim. But he was growing old too. It was only a matter of time when the vermin attacked and forced him out of the inconspicuous old age home he currently lived in.

And what will the world come to then? Without Winter, without Sin, without Evil, without Darkness. Scorching Light will be everywhere busy searing off skins using his shiny happy demeanour (US Patent No: PT 1087934). Gloom would die. So will Depression. Our sister Melancholia will be ravaged by the clumsy oak Cheerfulness.

The names of those who once were in The League will become unspeakable in the new regime. There will never be born, in the coming generations, those who would've heard of The League. How will the Dostoyevskys, Alan Moores, Orwells, William Gibsons of tomorrow ply their trade? Suicide shall not be there to help them either. Poor souls...I feel so sorry for them!

As he thought such thoughts, Gloom and Depression set in. He laid a hand on each of their shoulders and said with a voice that was drenched with tears, "Ah friends! What would I do without you? Don't ever leave me!"