Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Train entering Nerul Station
Out of ennui (a state of having nothing else to do!) I shot this video of this train entering Nerul railway station, New Bombay. Watch the smooth way in which it glides in, this metal monster!
Monday, March 30, 2009
Are We Being De-sensitised? Are Teen Reality Shows Any Real?
Yesterday, in church, I heard a very good sermon which, somewhat, correctly mirrored what was happening around us. Hope this helps those seeking answers to one of the most vexing challenges of modern life. The speaker a teacher, a head mistress, nothing less, said that we (our children) have been de-sensitized by what is given out in the media – she means the electronic media – television, et al.
We think watching cartoon is harmless but that also desensitizes us to some extent. As for movies, MTV (all the crap like Roadies and Splitsvilla [yes, I have no alternative but to watch the girls screaming rotten cuss words at each other, in addition to, hitting, slapping, kicking, etc.]) these cannot be called harmless to youngsters. Makes me wonder when someone from the moral brigade will take action against these programs. Judging by the viewership of these programs, it’s really difficult for me (someone who grew up in more gentler times when reality was reality not just a show) to imagine why teenagers have to go through such violence and desensitization.
The premises are all wrong. The selection to the program is nothing short of hilarious. Two people (identical twins at that) judge who gets into Roadies. They say they are looking for character, attitude, moral strength, blah, blah, and are merciless when they think all these qualities are absent. A youth who ditched his girlfriend was given the short shrift. Then what do these paragons of virtue go and do? The terms roadie means: "The road crew (or roadies) are the technicians who travel with a band on tour, usually in sleeper buses, and handle every part of the concert." So are they training people to be technicians to pop acts, shows, what? I guess they named the program wrongly. By what goes on in the show they behave as if they are groupies: "A person who seeks intimacy (most often physical, sometimes emotional) with a famous person, usually a rock band member." The shows throws up a few aggressive Alpha Male types and the girls just throw themselves at them, so actually they aren't "roadies" (a pop band's technicians) but "groupies" (crazed fans of the alpha males). People who have read Jackie Collins' novel Rock Star would know these terms.
No they aren’t. They are choosing the virtuous citizens of the future and that too people who can swear, cuss, and hit, punch, kick and scream. Is this the kind of citizenry that India needs. Wake up, people.... We are rearing an impatient generation unable to judge what is good, honest, and scrupulous. Another reality show that got my gall was one that featured the moll of a gangster. I am not against her, but I wonder what sanctity can a reality show that features the moll of a known ganster have? If she needs to prove herself let her reform and demonstrate that she has reformed and is no longer a victim by doing something relevant to society and not a star in a reality show.
So this lady who gave the sermon said: we become so desensitised that we do lose our scruples and when man’s scruples are lost, he doesn’t hesitate to do anything, even kill, commit suicide, or even rape. I guess, today, society is going through a mass breakdown of moral and societal values and that the electronic media is foisting on the younger generation values that we (at least, the thinking feeling sensitive beings) can’t condone.
Fathers rape their own daughters, friends kidnap their own friend when in need of money, children and adults are easily tempted to end it all, commit suicide, teenagers break down and cry if they aren't selected into one of those reality/singing competitions. All this shows a large-scale breakdown in moral values. The Mira Road father who raped his daughter for nine years, and in addition, gifted her to a tantric who told him that he would become rich if he raped his own daughter, the monster of Austria, Josef Fritzl who repeatedly raped his daughter and sired seven children all these are a result, I guess, of desensitisation to the rights and emotional needs of others, who include, quite sadly, their own children.
So I would urge parents, to preserve their own good sense, to disallow their children to watch reality shows that emphasise the baser instinct in human beings. Yes, it will start with my own.
We think watching cartoon is harmless but that also desensitizes us to some extent. As for movies, MTV (all the crap like Roadies and Splitsvilla [yes, I have no alternative but to watch the girls screaming rotten cuss words at each other, in addition to, hitting, slapping, kicking, etc.]) these cannot be called harmless to youngsters. Makes me wonder when someone from the moral brigade will take action against these programs. Judging by the viewership of these programs, it’s really difficult for me (someone who grew up in more gentler times when reality was reality not just a show) to imagine why teenagers have to go through such violence and desensitization.
The premises are all wrong. The selection to the program is nothing short of hilarious. Two people (identical twins at that) judge who gets into Roadies. They say they are looking for character, attitude, moral strength, blah, blah, and are merciless when they think all these qualities are absent. A youth who ditched his girlfriend was given the short shrift. Then what do these paragons of virtue go and do? The terms roadie means: "The road crew (or roadies) are the technicians who travel with a band on tour, usually in sleeper buses, and handle every part of the concert." So are they training people to be technicians to pop acts, shows, what? I guess they named the program wrongly. By what goes on in the show they behave as if they are groupies: "A person who seeks intimacy (most often physical, sometimes emotional) with a famous person, usually a rock band member." The shows throws up a few aggressive Alpha Male types and the girls just throw themselves at them, so actually they aren't "roadies" (a pop band's technicians) but "groupies" (crazed fans of the alpha males). People who have read Jackie Collins' novel Rock Star would know these terms.
No they aren’t. They are choosing the virtuous citizens of the future and that too people who can swear, cuss, and hit, punch, kick and scream. Is this the kind of citizenry that India needs. Wake up, people.... We are rearing an impatient generation unable to judge what is good, honest, and scrupulous. Another reality show that got my gall was one that featured the moll of a gangster. I am not against her, but I wonder what sanctity can a reality show that features the moll of a known ganster have? If she needs to prove herself let her reform and demonstrate that she has reformed and is no longer a victim by doing something relevant to society and not a star in a reality show.
So this lady who gave the sermon said: we become so desensitised that we do lose our scruples and when man’s scruples are lost, he doesn’t hesitate to do anything, even kill, commit suicide, or even rape. I guess, today, society is going through a mass breakdown of moral and societal values and that the electronic media is foisting on the younger generation values that we (at least, the thinking feeling sensitive beings) can’t condone.
Fathers rape their own daughters, friends kidnap their own friend when in need of money, children and adults are easily tempted to end it all, commit suicide, teenagers break down and cry if they aren't selected into one of those reality/singing competitions. All this shows a large-scale breakdown in moral values. The Mira Road father who raped his daughter for nine years, and in addition, gifted her to a tantric who told him that he would become rich if he raped his own daughter, the monster of Austria, Josef Fritzl who repeatedly raped his daughter and sired seven children all these are a result, I guess, of desensitisation to the rights and emotional needs of others, who include, quite sadly, their own children.
So I would urge parents, to preserve their own good sense, to disallow their children to watch reality shows that emphasise the baser instinct in human beings. Yes, it will start with my own.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Just Now... at the Airtel Gallery....
Went to the Airtel Gallery at Fountain, Bombay, directed there by the stationery shop that sold me the refill card. I was dying to tear at somebody, give somebody hell, face somebody. But I am directed again to a phone near a corner facing the wall. Is a customer not worth anything these days?
I amn't facing any human being, still. I am facing a wall and talking into a telephone again. It seems customer support is only for selling new lines, new cards and fancy mobile phones. I feel insulted, cornered and embittered. Is there any end to my humiliation? Why can't I face an executive and tell my story, give him/her a piece of my my mind that is in turmoil. Has all human touch vanished from customer support? I swallow my pride and go the booth indicated. I dial 999 and am told by Roshan Karkera, again from Airtel Customer Support that some virus thingammajig had entered my Rs 18,000 Nokia E61i and is deducting the balance in my Airtel prepaid card. He tells me he can't do anything, give me any credit. I will have to re-format my phone or buy a new one!
Presumtuous crap! I am livid with rage! I shout and rant!
How can a computer virus, however potent, deduct money from my prepaid card? How? Can any thinking, feeling human being tell me that? Can they?
Oh hell, I can't believe this is happening to me. I leave the Airtel gallery disgusted, my head hanging down, disconsolate, discomfited.
I amn't facing any human being, still. I am facing a wall and talking into a telephone again. It seems customer support is only for selling new lines, new cards and fancy mobile phones. I feel insulted, cornered and embittered. Is there any end to my humiliation? Why can't I face an executive and tell my story, give him/her a piece of my my mind that is in turmoil. Has all human touch vanished from customer support? I swallow my pride and go the booth indicated. I dial 999 and am told by Roshan Karkera, again from Airtel Customer Support that some virus thingammajig had entered my Rs 18,000 Nokia E61i and is deducting the balance in my Airtel prepaid card. He tells me he can't do anything, give me any credit. I will have to re-format my phone or buy a new one!
Presumtuous crap! I am livid with rage! I shout and rant!
How can a computer virus, however potent, deduct money from my prepaid card? How? Can any thinking, feeling human being tell me that? Can they?
Oh hell, I can't believe this is happening to me. I leave the Airtel gallery disgusted, my head hanging down, disconsolate, discomfited.
Taken for a Ride by Your Carrier?
Imagine what would happen if your telephone carrier would keep deducting your balance without any reason? Can you imagine? You can’t unless it is you who is being unreasonably charged without any reason. The carrier in this case is Airtel and the victim: ME.
The following is the sequence of events and through the day I lost Rs 125.80 for a few SMSes and local calls. This robs me of my confidence in my cellular phone carrier i.e., Airtel. Even my faith in technology is seriously challenged. I tried several times (unsuccessfully I might add) to get this redressed through their customer service.
Customer service should be renamed customer disservice as far as the CS people at Airtel are concerned. They keep playing their ads and jingles instead of giving valid information and their customer service executives disconnect before you can even begin the call.
Time Action Balance (Rs)
9.00 am Checked balance 60.00
1.20 Called 982xxx4755 (local number) 0.00
2.00 pm Refill of Rs 198 177.00
2.30 pm 129.50
3.20 pm Sent an SMS to 986xxx5467 120.80
3.30 pm Sent an sms to check balance 111.20
At the end of the rope, end of the tether, clutching at straws, after gnashing enough teeth to render me toothless, I wrote a letter to the Airtel chairman Mr. Sunil Mittal with a copy to the chairman, Telecom Regulatory Authority of India (TRAI), and Secretary, Department of Telecommunications. I am waiting for the worthies to reply, if at all.
Meanwhile I am still gnashing my teeth as I write...
The following is the sequence of events and through the day I lost Rs 125.80 for a few SMSes and local calls. This robs me of my confidence in my cellular phone carrier i.e., Airtel. Even my faith in technology is seriously challenged. I tried several times (unsuccessfully I might add) to get this redressed through their customer service.
Customer service should be renamed customer disservice as far as the CS people at Airtel are concerned. They keep playing their ads and jingles instead of giving valid information and their customer service executives disconnect before you can even begin the call.
Time Action Balance (Rs)
9.00 am Checked balance 60.00
1.20 Called 982xxx4755 (local number) 0.00
2.00 pm Refill of Rs 198 177.00
2.30 pm 129.50
3.20 pm Sent an SMS to 986xxx5467 120.80
3.30 pm Sent an sms to check balance 111.20
At the end of the rope, end of the tether, clutching at straws, after gnashing enough teeth to render me toothless, I wrote a letter to the Airtel chairman Mr. Sunil Mittal with a copy to the chairman, Telecom Regulatory Authority of India (TRAI), and Secretary, Department of Telecommunications. I am waiting for the worthies to reply, if at all.
Meanwhile I am still gnashing my teeth as I write...
Sunday, March 22, 2009
The Other John Abraham
Everyone knows John Abraham the film star and handsome hunk, the heartthrob of the millions, but the world has forgotten John Abraham the film director who was trained by Ritwik Ghatak, worked with Mani Kaul on Uski Roti and produced such marvelous Avant Garde films such as:
* Vidyarthikale Ithile Ithile (Malayalam)
* Agraharthil Kazhuthai (Tamil)
* Amma Ariyan (Malayalam)
* Cheriachente Krurakrithyangal (Malayalam)
John's lore (of which there are plenty, according to mutual friend Ajith Pillai, now Senior Editor of Outlook) has it that for a preview of one of his film he had invited the press to a screening in Bombay. Now conventional directors know how scribes like to drink. To satisfy this craving, they organise scotch and expensive canapes and starters.
But charismatic John (Being John) did things differently. He had a drum filled with the local hootch kept at the entrance. The journalists were given plastic mugs which they were supposed to fill with the hootch and sit down to watch the film. Guess the journos liked this unique twist in the Avant Garde saga of John.
Today I read this article by Adoor Gopalakrishnan eulogising the life and work of this unique film director who had made sterling contribution to Indian cinema and who was snatched away at a very early age. It is said that his body lay unclaimed in a Kozhikode mortuary for six days after he fell off a building and died. He was nomad, a loner, and an alcoholic. John Abraham R.I.P.
* Vidyarthikale Ithile Ithile (Malayalam)
* Agraharthil Kazhuthai (Tamil)
* Amma Ariyan (Malayalam)
* Cheriachente Krurakrithyangal (Malayalam)
John's lore (of which there are plenty, according to mutual friend Ajith Pillai, now Senior Editor of Outlook) has it that for a preview of one of his film he had invited the press to a screening in Bombay. Now conventional directors know how scribes like to drink. To satisfy this craving, they organise scotch and expensive canapes and starters.
But charismatic John (Being John) did things differently. He had a drum filled with the local hootch kept at the entrance. The journalists were given plastic mugs which they were supposed to fill with the hootch and sit down to watch the film. Guess the journos liked this unique twist in the Avant Garde saga of John.
Today I read this article by Adoor Gopalakrishnan eulogising the life and work of this unique film director who had made sterling contribution to Indian cinema and who was snatched away at a very early age. It is said that his body lay unclaimed in a Kozhikode mortuary for six days after he fell off a building and died. He was nomad, a loner, and an alcoholic. John Abraham R.I.P.
The Online Us and What We Are in Reality - Schizophrenic?
A friend sometime ago said that online forums, social networking sites, chat rooms, shorn of frills, devoid of pretensions and minus the desperate pick-up lines resemble real life flesh and blood social interaction. Yes it does. Is it a good thing, or a bad thing? I don’t know. My meagre interactions online since 1995 (that’s from the doggone days of slow dial-up lines) tells me that people tend to trust too much what their online friends tell them.
So what happens next? You set up a meeting with great expectations. And then? All those expectations come crashing down. We are a bit schizophrenic about our image of ourselves. For example: I have this rather youngish, dashing image of me, which I also pretend to be online, which collapses when I meet an online friend and all my dreams go for a toss seeing the disappointment in their eyes. What did you expect? John Abraham? Guys, I am John P Matthew , a struggling writer and I am only human! Meaning: I have a right to have my own disillusionments. I have got pretty much disillusioned myself. Is this the one with whom I had exchanged long emails thinking this is a friendship that would last? No, I am not looking (Yes, however, I am looking for story situations and experiences that would trigger a short story or a poem, at the very least), but what's wrong with meeting a fellow netizen from another city, another country and trying to understand what's going through their life? But this is not what I had imagined! At least I thought she would wear presentable clothes and pat on a little face powder to hide that shiny nose.
Agreed. We all lie a little about ourselves. When we are online we hide all our little foibles and character quirks. This morning I saw “Bringing the House Down” as I was getting ready to go to work (Yes, I confess I do this. It’s another matter that the movie viewing came to a sudden halt when the electric supply blinked, then vamoosed!). In it, Steve Martin, a lawyer, lies about his looks (boyish crop of hair, mid-thirties, and all) to his online friend “Lawyergirl” and sets up a meeting with her, who is supposed to be a smart lawyer. Imagine who walks in at the appointed hour?
Huh?
And look who turned up at the door at the appointed hour? She is an ex-convict, a convicted felon, is loud, uncouth and is also African-American (a role played to perfection by Queen Latifah)! Can you beat that? It transpires that when chatting with Steve Martin she used a few legal terms she knew because of her ex-convict status. No doubt our hero was floored and started fantasising about her as all men do. We all do that online, don't we?
The way the youth is taking to the internet we (I mean the more mature generation, not that they would listen to us!) have to be very careful about how we project ourselves online. Nothing can substitute our real personalities for some imagined creature online. When we are online we must remember that we are on display to the world, it's as if we are on television. We must be ready for the insults and the badmouthing we, inevitably, must receive at some point in our online avatar. But dammit, whoever said the net is the answer to all our social problems, eh? No it isn't, and anyone thinking they can land their beautiful friends/wives/husbands online are in for a big, solid surprise.
So what happens next? You set up a meeting with great expectations. And then? All those expectations come crashing down. We are a bit schizophrenic about our image of ourselves. For example: I have this rather youngish, dashing image of me, which I also pretend to be online, which collapses when I meet an online friend and all my dreams go for a toss seeing the disappointment in their eyes. What did you expect? John Abraham? Guys, I am John P Matthew , a struggling writer and I am only human! Meaning: I have a right to have my own disillusionments. I have got pretty much disillusioned myself. Is this the one with whom I had exchanged long emails thinking this is a friendship that would last? No, I am not looking (Yes, however, I am looking for story situations and experiences that would trigger a short story or a poem, at the very least), but what's wrong with meeting a fellow netizen from another city, another country and trying to understand what's going through their life? But this is not what I had imagined! At least I thought she would wear presentable clothes and pat on a little face powder to hide that shiny nose.
Agreed. We all lie a little about ourselves. When we are online we hide all our little foibles and character quirks. This morning I saw “Bringing the House Down” as I was getting ready to go to work (Yes, I confess I do this. It’s another matter that the movie viewing came to a sudden halt when the electric supply blinked, then vamoosed!). In it, Steve Martin, a lawyer, lies about his looks (boyish crop of hair, mid-thirties, and all) to his online friend “Lawyergirl” and sets up a meeting with her, who is supposed to be a smart lawyer. Imagine who walks in at the appointed hour?
Huh?
And look who turned up at the door at the appointed hour? She is an ex-convict, a convicted felon, is loud, uncouth and is also African-American (a role played to perfection by Queen Latifah)! Can you beat that? It transpires that when chatting with Steve Martin she used a few legal terms she knew because of her ex-convict status. No doubt our hero was floored and started fantasising about her as all men do. We all do that online, don't we?
The way the youth is taking to the internet we (I mean the more mature generation, not that they would listen to us!) have to be very careful about how we project ourselves online. Nothing can substitute our real personalities for some imagined creature online. When we are online we must remember that we are on display to the world, it's as if we are on television. We must be ready for the insults and the badmouthing we, inevitably, must receive at some point in our online avatar. But dammit, whoever said the net is the answer to all our social problems, eh? No it isn't, and anyone thinking they can land their beautiful friends/wives/husbands online are in for a big, solid surprise.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Criminal as Mai-baap!
He sits opposite me and is reading the papers. What's so unusual about him? In his shirt pocket is a pen with a face on it. It's a familiar face. It has appeared on several news stories, keep appearing even now. A politician? Sort of. A star? No. A social worker? Don't know social workers are dime a dozen and you don't know every one's antecedents. Then who? He is a criminal and gang lord who has murdered and extorted money from many. He floated a political party but that couldn't buy his respectability. The police kept haunting him and now he is in jail.
Imagine a decently dressed middle class man wearing polyester shirt and trousers and decent shoes accepting this man, this criminal as his role model, his saviour, his benefactor, his mai-baap (mother-father figure)!
My mind boggles, I cringe at the thought, I am dazed.... Is this what democracy mean to us, making a criminal into a hero?
In passing
My newest poem Barrel of an AK-47 appears here. It's about how the world is exploiting the youth by creating teenage armies armed with Kalashnikovs promising to make them like John Rambo. Do read and comment.
Imagine a decently dressed middle class man wearing polyester shirt and trousers and decent shoes accepting this man, this criminal as his role model, his saviour, his benefactor, his mai-baap (mother-father figure)!
My mind boggles, I cringe at the thought, I am dazed.... Is this what democracy mean to us, making a criminal into a hero?
In passing
My newest poem Barrel of an AK-47 appears here. It's about how the world is exploiting the youth by creating teenage armies armed with Kalashnikovs promising to make them like John Rambo. Do read and comment.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
The Queue-jumper
A short, short story I wrote today:
I had gone to my village of Kidangannoor on holiday (where my parents [now deceased] lived in retirement) and went to the Chengannur railway station to buy tickets for my journey back. It was summer vacation season and tickets for the return journey to Bombay were scarce. So I had to leave home early hoping to get ahead in the queue to book tickets. After reaching the station, I had stood in a long queue for about an hour and was at the head of the queue when a youth appeared from nowhere, stood beside me and began pushing towards the ticket vendor. When I objected he started complaining loudly to the people present that I was trying to push him and that I was (you won't believe this!) the queue breaker!
Imagine! A Hindi saying goes, “Ulta Chor Kotwal ko dathe,” a case of the thief scolding the policeman.
Me, a queue jumper? I am not sympathetic to such boors and fought back and got my position at the head of the queue and bought a ticket. Then I saw something that upset me further. The man was buying a ticket after me! I said with all the animus I could muster, “People, people, my dear kind and law-abiding saars (they say “saar” instead of “sir” in Kerala), can’t you see, that man is a queue jumper and he is buying a ticket.”
“He said the same of you, remember,” one man said.
“But I am saying he pushed ahead of me, he is a reactionary, an usurper, a hooligan, an anti-social element, a..., a..., a..., blot on civilised society,” I blabbered on.
They stared blankly at me, you know, the way you would look at a dimwit.
By this time the man who had barged in front of me had bought his ticket and was coming menacingly towards me.
“Enthado thante problem? What is your problem? Podo ividunnu, haaaaahn, kanichu tharam! Go away from here, or I will show you.”
“Are you threatening me after jumping the queue, in front of all these people?”
“What people? Ask them. Did I jump the queue, people?”
“No, no, no, no....”
I couldn’t believe my auditory senses, or my visual senses, for that matter.
“Pinne... then?” the queue-jumper was moving menacingly towards me.
“Oh, dear and esteemed and highly-regarded saars, can’t you see he is turning the public opinion against me, against propriety, against the laws of civilised society, against every tenet that you, decent, mundu wearing, respectable people believe in?”
“Hey, who are you to give big lectures, haaaahn,” this is a member of the public whose rights, decency and civility I was trying to protect.
“I am no one. In fact, I don’t even live here. But if this man barges in, buys a ticket while you have been standing in queue over an hour today, mark my words, he will be raping your mothers and sisters, stealing from the government’s public coffers, thumbing a nose at law and order next.”
“Heey manushya, watch your words,” with this the queue-jumper came towards me, folding and tying his mundu in a tight double fold over his waist (the Malayali’s preparation for a fight). I could see his striped underpants and the loose-hanging string he used to tie it to his waist. It was a threatening gesture, alright; the sort used by superstars Mohanlal and Mammooty to scare the shit out of villains in Malayalam movies.
Hell, no! I am no coward when it comes to a fight. I have well-toned and exercised biceps and triceps that I flex everyday for around thirty minutes, even on holidays. I also know a few Karate tricks thanks to a lightning course in Karate I took when I was working with a former employer. The teacher didn’t think much of my moves then, but if I could scare him with a few grunts and shouts, maybe, just maybe, he will hightail it.
So I got into Shotokan Kata position, or some such, I don’t remember, and shouted really menacingly at him, “Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh.”
“What are you doing man; can’t you see the man has grey hair? At least respect his age,” this is from an esteemed member of the public, whose honour I was getting ready to protect.
I stopped in Karate-mid-stance and gaped at him open mouthed.
He untied and dropped his mundu and said, “Since this kind and nice saar says so, I am leaving you, or you know I would have broken that knee of yours.” (In Kerala they always aim at the knees, so that a man will limp for the rest of his life.)
I stare at him, at the people whose rights and privileges I was trying so hard to champion, and then walk away. At least my knees have been saved the bother, and I got my tickets!
I had gone to my village of Kidangannoor on holiday (where my parents [now deceased] lived in retirement) and went to the Chengannur railway station to buy tickets for my journey back. It was summer vacation season and tickets for the return journey to Bombay were scarce. So I had to leave home early hoping to get ahead in the queue to book tickets. After reaching the station, I had stood in a long queue for about an hour and was at the head of the queue when a youth appeared from nowhere, stood beside me and began pushing towards the ticket vendor. When I objected he started complaining loudly to the people present that I was trying to push him and that I was (you won't believe this!) the queue breaker!
Imagine! A Hindi saying goes, “Ulta Chor Kotwal ko dathe,” a case of the thief scolding the policeman.
Me, a queue jumper? I am not sympathetic to such boors and fought back and got my position at the head of the queue and bought a ticket. Then I saw something that upset me further. The man was buying a ticket after me! I said with all the animus I could muster, “People, people, my dear kind and law-abiding saars (they say “saar” instead of “sir” in Kerala), can’t you see, that man is a queue jumper and he is buying a ticket.”
“He said the same of you, remember,” one man said.
“But I am saying he pushed ahead of me, he is a reactionary, an usurper, a hooligan, an anti-social element, a..., a..., a..., blot on civilised society,” I blabbered on.
They stared blankly at me, you know, the way you would look at a dimwit.
By this time the man who had barged in front of me had bought his ticket and was coming menacingly towards me.
“Enthado thante problem? What is your problem? Podo ividunnu, haaaaahn, kanichu tharam! Go away from here, or I will show you.”
“Are you threatening me after jumping the queue, in front of all these people?”
“What people? Ask them. Did I jump the queue, people?”
“No, no, no, no....”
I couldn’t believe my auditory senses, or my visual senses, for that matter.
“Pinne... then?” the queue-jumper was moving menacingly towards me.
“Oh, dear and esteemed and highly-regarded saars, can’t you see he is turning the public opinion against me, against propriety, against the laws of civilised society, against every tenet that you, decent, mundu wearing, respectable people believe in?”
“Hey, who are you to give big lectures, haaaahn,” this is a member of the public whose rights, decency and civility I was trying to protect.
“I am no one. In fact, I don’t even live here. But if this man barges in, buys a ticket while you have been standing in queue over an hour today, mark my words, he will be raping your mothers and sisters, stealing from the government’s public coffers, thumbing a nose at law and order next.”
“Heey manushya, watch your words,” with this the queue-jumper came towards me, folding and tying his mundu in a tight double fold over his waist (the Malayali’s preparation for a fight). I could see his striped underpants and the loose-hanging string he used to tie it to his waist. It was a threatening gesture, alright; the sort used by superstars Mohanlal and Mammooty to scare the shit out of villains in Malayalam movies.
Hell, no! I am no coward when it comes to a fight. I have well-toned and exercised biceps and triceps that I flex everyday for around thirty minutes, even on holidays. I also know a few Karate tricks thanks to a lightning course in Karate I took when I was working with a former employer. The teacher didn’t think much of my moves then, but if I could scare him with a few grunts and shouts, maybe, just maybe, he will hightail it.
So I got into Shotokan Kata position, or some such, I don’t remember, and shouted really menacingly at him, “Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh.”
“What are you doing man; can’t you see the man has grey hair? At least respect his age,” this is from an esteemed member of the public, whose honour I was getting ready to protect.
I stopped in Karate-mid-stance and gaped at him open mouthed.
He untied and dropped his mundu and said, “Since this kind and nice saar says so, I am leaving you, or you know I would have broken that knee of yours.” (In Kerala they always aim at the knees, so that a man will limp for the rest of his life.)
I stare at him, at the people whose rights and privileges I was trying so hard to champion, and then walk away. At least my knees have been saved the bother, and I got my tickets!
Islamisation of Pakistan, Who Is Responsible?
Just in case you are wondering who is responsible for the Islamisation of Pakistan, read this article by Yvette Rosser titled "Pakistani Textbooks: Politics of Prejudice. Excerpt:
Just because Zia used the word ‘Islamization’ time and again, doesn’t mean that he was successful in his so-called ‘Islamization’ of Pakistani political and economic institutions. While Pakistan’s governing elite may have been relatively liberal, pragmatic and secular, the majority of Pakistanis were always devout Muslims, and Pakistani culture was always ‘Islamic’ [and] thus didn’t need any further ‘Islamizing.’ If Zia’s so-called ‘Islamization’ of Pakistani society had actually occurred, Pakistanis would never have elected two relatively liberal, pragmatic, and secular Muslims to run Pakistan four times in 11 years in free and fair elections based on adult franchise–Benazir Bhutto (1988-1990, 1993-1996) and Nawaz Sharif (1990-1993, 1996-1999). General Pervaiz Musharraf, who usurped power on October 12th, 1999, is also a liberal and pragmatic Muslim, who has said that he admired Mustafa Kemal Ataturk of Turkey [who] is denounced by devout Muslims all over the world for being a secular dictator who tried to Westernize Turkey. Quaid-e-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah was not ‘actually working to establish an Islamic-dominated state.’ A ‘Muslim-led government’ is by no means the same thing as an ‘Islamic-dominated state!’ Most governments in the Muslim world are led by Muslims, but they are not Islamic regimes based on the Islamic Shariah (like Iran or Afghanistan [under the Taliban]).
Just because Zia used the word ‘Islamization’ time and again, doesn’t mean that he was successful in his so-called ‘Islamization’ of Pakistani political and economic institutions. While Pakistan’s governing elite may have been relatively liberal, pragmatic and secular, the majority of Pakistanis were always devout Muslims, and Pakistani culture was always ‘Islamic’ [and] thus didn’t need any further ‘Islamizing.’ If Zia’s so-called ‘Islamization’ of Pakistani society had actually occurred, Pakistanis would never have elected two relatively liberal, pragmatic, and secular Muslims to run Pakistan four times in 11 years in free and fair elections based on adult franchise–Benazir Bhutto (1988-1990, 1993-1996) and Nawaz Sharif (1990-1993, 1996-1999). General Pervaiz Musharraf, who usurped power on October 12th, 1999, is also a liberal and pragmatic Muslim, who has said that he admired Mustafa Kemal Ataturk of Turkey [who] is denounced by devout Muslims all over the world for being a secular dictator who tried to Westernize Turkey. Quaid-e-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah was not ‘actually working to establish an Islamic-dominated state.’ A ‘Muslim-led government’ is by no means the same thing as an ‘Islamic-dominated state!’ Most governments in the Muslim world are led by Muslims, but they are not Islamic regimes based on the Islamic Shariah (like Iran or Afghanistan [under the Taliban]).
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