Unity of anger

I am alive.
So are you, my beloved reader….
Isn’t that a coincidence?
Cheers to our being alive.

Hopefully we will stay alive.

Mumbai (26/11/2008) has been covered extensively by all the news magazines possible… it gave birth to a whole generation of first time bloggers; it caused a stir strong enough to shuffle the ministry in the Maharashtra state as well as the center and it caused a cricket series to be called off midway. It made people cry and then wipe out tears in a patriotic gesture. It made a point blank statement…. “Who the fuck makes you think that you are safe?”
Neither am I safe nor are you… before this post is completed I could be blown off. Before you finish reading the post - bullets could shatter you! The team that would be appointed to investigate our death could be buried alive. And this chain of deaths would go on till not a single unprotected being existed. Who would remain? Ministers? Law makers? The white haired beings who organize conferences, frame resolutions and fail who adopt them?
I am sorry. I don’t intend to start a blame game all over again. It’s of no conducive utility at the moment. Right now, the situation is urgent enough to start ‘giving a damn’ about all that is going wrong. The SOS is loud and clear: “we got to live… and live like a true living being… enough of passive existence … we got to smash a few worthless faces... before we are worthlessly cold and dead!”
Mumbai (26/11/2008) has proved a point. Staying away from the battlefield will not ensure that bullets will not be fired aiming your heart. You may be leading a conventionally white life but black ashes could mar your face even before you realize. Standing face to face with our own degeneration what are we expected to do? Plan retirement solutions or communicate what we actually feel to the concerned authorities? Too many questions are there for offer but the enlightened beings can serve very few answers. Yet we stake our lives for the sake of these enlightened beings. We somehow fancy that the concerned authorities will chalk out something foolproof, forgetting the very crux that these authorities are Fools! Dangerous fools. Fools who strive to be feared. Fools like Raj Thakre, Narendra Modi and Anbumani Ramadoss.
When Mumbai lay bleeding ... where was that manus (human (!)) whose heart bleeds for the well being of Mumbai? Yes, I am talking about Mr. Thakre. What was he up to on 26/11/2008? Was he hiding under the bed, sobbing or was he reassured by some prior personal promise by the terrorists that foreigners were the primary targets? I was surprised when Thakre’s men did not prevent the north Indian NSG commandoes from entering the city. Yes, it was a pleasant surprise. But at the end of the day we cannot blame Thakre. He was just role playing as Satre would put it. Like a true politician he stayed away from the mess... he reserved his life for more insatiable causes.
Coming back to the discussion of white life and black ashes, isn’t it high time we develop an attitude that would add some more colors to our character? Long ago Gandhi said that an eye for an eye would make the whole world blind. When the world is already deaf, dumb and blind is Gandhi relevant? We can’t apply an irrelevant principle to the present scenario that demands urgency. An age old proverb could perhaps fit the bill: UNITED WE STAND. By unity I do not call for the utopianism preached by the redundant United Nations. The unity that could save us is something more... unity of anger, unity of anguish and unity of anxiety. If and only if we allow ourselves to be angry for a common cause can we actually make the white haired, the bald, the turbaned and the saree clad authoritarian heads realize that everything’s not okay. Doctors should be angry because the state lacks infrastructure to deal with emergencies, policemen should be angry because the weapons they are supposed to use are outdated, clergy should be angry because religion is being continually misinterpreted, the students should be angry because the state has no leaders, parents should be angry because so many children have died and god should be angry because if he is not he is an eternal paradox.
Once the anger waves unite and accumulate the nation is ready for a change. A change for the better. A change that would drive us beyond the clasp of myopic outlook and narrow minded combats. A change that would make the authorities realize for once that we cannot be governed that easily.
Violence for no rhyme or reason is unadvisable. But if we allow our mentally challenged enemies to slap us twice will we prove ourselves to be sane?

An Olympic Faux Pas

The month of August this year saw the unfolding of the spectacular Olympic Games at Beijing. Michael Phelps of the United States, alone, bagged 8 gold medals adding to their total tally of 110 medals. A staggering monolith when compared to India's meager tally of 3 medals. Why such a stark contrast?
Abhinav Bindra produced a phenomenal performance on his way to a Gold in the Men's 10m Air Rifle event. Sushil Kumar rallied superbly to win the Bronze in the Men's 66kg Freestyle Wrestling. Vijender Kumar fought valiantly against a more adept Cuban opponent in the Semifinals of the Men's Middle Weight Boxing, losing by just 5-8. Another Bronze to our tally. Without sufficient sponsorships or assistance from the sporting authorities of the country, their achievements are nothing short of remarkable. All the money in our country today is filtered off to the game of cricket. A game plagued by rampant inconsistencies of arrogant individuals. The sport has reached the apogee of chagrin to our nation.
Hockey, a game which won India 8 gold medals in the Olympics, has fallen by the wayside. The team failed to qualify for the Games this year. The authorities are insouciant to the stygian anathema that veils our national sport. Why?
Another disappointment, though expected, was the dismal performance of India's tennis contingent. The over-hyped Sania Mirza and "veteran" duo of Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupathi were a vapid, piteous visage. I must not cavil, but am unable to resist myself from wondering how Nasima Mirza (Sania's mother), who has probably never held a tennis racquet in her life, save to admire her daughter's, was made an official of the squad!
From within these acrimonious failures the likes of Abhinav Bindra, Sushil Kumar, Saina Nehwal, Vijender Kumar, Akhil Kumar came through to assuage our shame. But what can these exemplar athletes look forward to? An inconspicuous existence interrupted by ephemeral moments of sporting glory and media attention? And then an ignominious retreat to anonymity?
I end my rantings with the unforgettable resonating words of Sushil Kumar: "Desh ke liye pasina bahaye; accha laga. Magar khun bahate, toh aur bhi accha lagta..."

LINGERING HABITS AND CHASING RABBITS…

And if you go chasing rabbits

and you know you're going to fall…
Recall Alice

when she was just small.
- white rabbit ( Jefferson airplane)


Legend says that few thousand years ago Icarus learned to fly. His wings made him think that reaching the sun was just a game of patience and ambition. The legend goes on to say that the intense heat caused, the wax that knit the feathers together to melt. In the process Icarus `s wings were dismantled and he suffered a freefall to death. Unfortunate!

Where are we actually heading to? We have heard great men repeat time and again that patience and ambition can take one to wonderland …agreed. However with due respect to all these great beings may I ask a few elementary questions - what is this wonderland all about? What happens there? Do parallel lines meet? Out there, is there a meaning to all expressions which we rate undefined in our land? Can anyone guarantee that my journey to wonderland won’t guide me to another freefall?

If I am convinced I won’t have a problem chasing rabbits forever. I won’t mind forever investing my today for an outstanding tomorrow. In fact I would readily join the mainstream and preach the doctrine of “today’s pain = tomorrows gain” … till then I shun all advice harping the theme of patience and ambition.

For the time being, I would not repent pausing a while to smell the rain. I would wait all summer long for those shining liquid arrows to kiss me feverishly. I am prepared to swap all my tags for the sake of Lucy or Laura. Sounds like a losers alibi? Honestly speaking I am not the only one, and someday you’ll join us and the world will be one.

I’m sorry. This bit of copy paste imagination was unintentional. It somehow just crept in… some realizations keep on repeating age after age. After all it’s just a global déjà vu game.

It is obvious that the best process to extract the best out oneself is to give up some age old notions (or rather habits). I don’t want to sound like a maverick but I sincerely believe that these habits which somehow intruded into our eco system ecosystem are sufficient enough to reduce a tambourine man to a commoner. These habits make us yearn for a common man’s life when actually we can all script our own nemesis. These habits tell us to crowd on the same road, dusty with footsteps. We are made to believe that this road is the safest shortcut to nirvana.
What if there is a way through the woods that would also reach us to this coveted wonderland? In this case there would not be any mile stone to guide us. No great men would care to whisper inspirations … yet I’m sure that the journey would fascinate us even if realization occurs that ‘wonderland’ is an age old myth…

Why not give it a try, by chasing a different rabbit?

IPL, BPL and We the ppl.

"GOD said let IPL be...
thus was born LALIT MODI"
I will happily discuss the present state of Bengal with Ricki Ponting.
I dont mind sharing mishti doi with Chris Gayle.
I will readily yell with joy if "their" Umer Gul dismisses "our " very own Sachin.
If you tell me Shahrookh khan is a messiah , I`ll readily believe.
but better be careful :
if you tell me to chant "korbo lorbo jeetbo re " i`ll strangle you.
everything was right about this media revolution ( you call it cricket revolution ,ha ?) except for a few discordant notations ... the most glaring one ofcourse was " korbo lorbo jeetbo re".
a phrase which is a glaring insult to a very important aspect of bong culture ( music+sportmania= sportomusic mania).
bengal has been an excellent producer of sportomusic for years. be it the evergreen "shob khelar shera bangalir tumi football" or the more recent Fossils number - " mon boley footballey pa chhoai". coincidentally , both these songs are married to football... cricket has not always been the bong cup of tea. knight riders however made a rather quick entry to the bong heart. thus their theme music could have turned out to be the official bong chant only if it had a little bit of promise element. i would go to the extent of staying that the song was an omen ... the idiocy it portrayed (you must have seen the video) somehow predicted the dismal knight rider fate in the IPL.... the cliched beliefs about the bong common man punched with medieval elements such as metal armour and pre-historic helmets ... somehow made me wonder , are they actually representing kolkata knight riders or something as simple as kolkata zoo keepers? this cricket team theme song indicates everything other than cricket .... figuratively it translates to " i wanna dew , i wanna screw , i `ll win a few...." . need i say more???
one good thing about the IPL ( there are of course quite a few ) is that it kept people occupied. news papers didn't fall short of stories, tv channels were generating statistics all day long and even the most bogus players of yester- years became temporary experts. country was at peace except for the jaipur bombing .... a clear expression of bangladeshi frustration . next year we should definitely keep more than one bangla player in the squads. employment is a fundamental need in all developing nations.
somehow IPL concept is a sort of oxymoron .... India , boasting an enormous BPL population all of a sudden seemed ready to rule the world . spraying abnormal cash she sucked in willow wackers from all corners of the world . the high nose Aussies, the flamboyant windies and the caustic Kiwis ,all became temporary desis. the rich men geared up to capture mass mentality and feed the million strong starved population doses of entertainment. indeed , the IPL made the BPLs feel that cricket was a solution to their eternal hunger. at the end of the day we the ppl reclined with ease to feel busy and patriotic ....
however , IPL is now over. realities are back with a bang. BPL are once again queuing up to avail their bare necessities from the defalcating authority. the war for Gorkhaland is getting complicated and we the ppl are stunned and dumbed by the aggrandized fuel prices .

just a starter...

at times its really sad to note that the gravity of situations are misinterpreted by even the most thoughtful observer. a numbing feeling of false satisfaction somehow induces lethargy inhibiting us from questioning that which needs to be questioned ... inhibiting us from hitting hard at incidents which demand an uproar . we curse silently when things go wrong, we resort to cowardly theories like "the special theory of divine existence" ... we somehow are made to believe that chewing newspaper items and spitting out the chewed up amorphous jargon is the begining and end of our liability.

how long?
how long do we compromise???
its high time we reignite our dormant passion to smash those faces.
the journey begins with a vision of a world where nothing is taken for granted... where the skinny are not helpless , where the league of extraordinary gentlemen (eg modi, thakaray, buddhadeb bhattacharya) shall get their due and where impatient young minds will redesign the earth.
that's all for a starter...