My Anna-shan Against Hypocrisy

‘Jaanu…what are your plans for this Sunday and the holiday on Monday? Let’s do something different na…’

‘Yeah baby…I was thinking of joining the ‘Anna-shan’…You see corruption is at its peak.’

‘That’s a great idea. Let’s go shopping today. We need to buy few Indian flags, a carpet, candles etc.’

‘Yeah…Certainly…Please remind me about the ‘I am Anna’ Gandhian cap also.’

‘Please do check in Google for some of the catchy slogans going around there.’

Indians are very poor, less creative and hypocrite when it comes to protests, in support of or against something. We are left with very few ideas;ranging from Bhookh Hadtaal Till Death (Which rarely capitalize to death), Candle March (Blame the Rang De Basanti bells, still ringing), Jail Bharo (The Munna-Circuit philosophy that, going to jail is not bad at all), Dharna (I won’t move my ass till you kick on my butts) and the evergreen Peace March (No comments on that), whenever it comes to protest against some social (read politically active) cause. And the real problem is, we don’t even realize, how boring our ‘Anna-shans are.

The latest hot flavor is the ‘Anna led Anna-shan’, against corruption or black money or the ruling government or something…I really don’t give a damn to their agendas. That’s an issue for high ‘Pseudo-intellectual’ debate. This old man is refusing to eat. I guess because, he has reached an age, when he needs to fulfill his self actualization needs. Or maybe, after the death of the father of ‘Anna-shans’ (I am sure you know the name), after almost 64 years, there is a void for the post. This old man is just filling in for him. I really don’t know how this is going to benefit the so called common man. Or, how he is going to stop me from giving undue advantage to the sexiest colleague I work with. Or, how he is going to stop all mediocre boss shitting over their smart juniors. Shit reminds me of another ‘Anna-shan’.

Another recent bullshit was the ‘Besharmi Morcha’ aka ‘Slut Walk’, performed by around 500 odd girls and few human beings of the middle sex. The very mention of Slut Walk brought the pictures of the march, that was celebrated in Toronto, Canada and the world over; in some part of my highly responsive retina. I was so excited about the march, that I made so many changes to my ever busy schedule to make sure of my presence there (Obviously I don’t give a damn about their hypocrite issue. I just wanted to see the abundance of fatness in right places). For the first time in my life, I felt that India is really growing up. And, what I was presented, is well known to you all. I have aptly named it as ‘Delhi’s Behenji Morcha’. I felt so cheated by all those hypocrite women. None of the girls could be seen in anything better than jeans and t-shirts. All you ‘Besharmi’ supporting girls, if you really want me to change my thinking about your issue, pay me back all my money and time that I have wasted in that wild goose chase.

The only creative protest march that I came across, off late, was the Chaddi March done by young kids in the movie 'Chillar Party' Something like that has to be done, to bring back India on the tracks.

PS: Top 5 wacky ways to protest (Courtesy: www.google.com)

1. Mismatch and wear the most outrageous coloured clothes (eg pink pants, parrot-green shirt and orange shoes).

2. Wear funny hats (with horns, bells or mushrooms) to work or school.

3. Stage Eat-all-you-can strikes (but still call it a 'Hunger Strike').

4. Spray perfume at places with stinky walls.

5. Mass meditate under the Peepal tree in New Road.

6. Build whatever was broken down during previous protests such as pedestrian bars.

7.Symbolic demonstration: carry broomsticks and make everybody sweep the streets to signify 'cleaning up whatever needs to be cleaned up'.

8. Go swim in Bagmati, Bishnumati, or Tukucha.

9. Hug, shake hands, and give a candy to all the policemen you meet.

10.Wear a tyre (truck, car, cycle, according to your size) around your waist and do a collective hula dance in Tundikhel.

                                        

Friends Freedom and Magic

It’s 12 a.m. of 15^th August2011.

Sharique is explaining to me about the pros and cons of a bureaucratic organization. What is the real meaning of bureaucracy and how bureaucracy forces the employees to work in their level of incompetency? You keep on getting promoted to the next level, if you are efficient in the previous level. And your promotion gets stuck or delayed at a level where you are most incompetent. So you end up spending more time at your level of incompetency.

This is definitely a privilege to be friends with an IAS aspirant.

‘Let’s go out yaar…’

‘Yeah sure… Let’s call Aariz, Chunni Babu, Naiyar Jaan & Sabahuddin.’

We reached Okhla head, only to find out that none of the faggots has reached there before us, and it started raining. As usual, Pillu bhai’s tea aggravated the sensible bakwaas that is always present in abundance inside my newly found cute pot belly. It was still raining, and that was slowly, but certainly killing the chances of our esteemed night out. We were hiding inside a shed, puffing out the frustration when I spoke.

‘You know something. When you give unlimited authority to someone, there are 100% chances that he will misuse it.’

‘Yeah…that’s true.’

‘See the case of God. We did give him unlimited authority. Now you see his cheap trial at ruining our night.’

‘Poor fellow…He does not know that our spirit can’t be shaken.’

‘Yeah…make a call to those faggots.’

He rang Aariz, who is still a male person.

‘You fucking bitch…why haven’t you come yet?’

‘Yaar…it’s raining!’

‘Are you a ‘maati ka putla’ that you will dissolve in the rain? You slut, come soon.’

‘Okay…15 minutes…Well…10 minutes’

Who says, only your girlfriends can be demanding? He did come within 10 minutes, all drenched, and suddenly, all my fears of getting wet, vanished. We voluntarily moved out of the shed and hugged each other. It started raining heavily. We started walking in the rain from Okhla head to Jamia College to Batla House to Zakir Nagar to Bharat Nagar.

Bharat Nagar was calm and silent except for the music of the rains. Strangely I was feeling as if I was marching towards eternal peace. We moved, splashing, jumping, and singing; rather yelling at the misfortune of those cowards who were rotting in the comforts of their rooms. We weren’t walking as if we were the king, rather as if we didn’t give a shit about, who the king was. It is one of those times when you really feel that you could conquer the world, but you don’t give a damn about the world too. You feel as if you are at the top of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.

We went to a shop in Zakir Nagar called ‘Javed ki famous Nihari’…famous indeed it was. Literally people were bustling and jostling to get the ‘Paaya’ and ‘Nihari’ as if this was some delicacy which would make them immortal. You could not buy it, you had to achieve it. We got a coke bottle, cigarettes and moved further.

That was one time of the day, I felt really free. If I wished to piss on that bottle and throw it at someone, I could do that too, though we didn’t do that. But we did piss to irrigate the saplings of trees, nicely protected by MCD officials, with both our arms wide open and looking up above the sky. I tell you, you can never match the joy of pissing like that in such a situation.

The rain slowed down a bit. We were walking silently now. A thought crossed my mind. I was just arranging the words to make a sentence, when Sharique spoke before I could.

‘Yaar…this is more entertaining than fornication.’

I was dumbstruck. A loud, but a half shout came out of me. This was exactly what I was going to say. Before Sharique could realize the amazing coincidence, Aariz yelled even louder, and this time a full shout.

‘God damn it…even I was going to say the same.’

We all started hugging each other in disbelief and frenzy. A loud shivering commotion followed. And then, we started enjoying silently, getting a feel of the chilling breeze. Some integral part of my body shrunk to a couple of inches, almost one third of its normal size.

Perhaps out of shame.

Perhaps I will always remember this night, when we celebrated the true spirit of Friendship, Freedom and ‘Paaya’…