nothing

2011-08-03T10:46:00.001-07:00

An individual of foreign nationality once matter-of-factly remarked to me that India is the most corrupt country ever, and all Indians are inherently dishonest. While this remark infuriated me, I could not altogether deny the presence of corruption in what I take pride in acknowledging as my motherland.

In fact, every, single day this disturbing reality is thrown in our faces (sometimes even censored), by the media. Moreover, so ingrained is corruption in our sense of functioning, that criminals (read politicians) brought to book refuse to yield, clinging tenaciously to some inexplicable sense of righteousness.

However, what specifically rankled me about my fine, white friend’s remark, was his superlative use of adjectives. Corruption is a universal phenomenon, not a feature unique to Incredible India. In fact, the West is inextricably caught in a web of extreme capitalism that is rife with corruption and exploitation.

Interestingly, a large percentage of the Western world and “developed countries” are atheist, who consider religion an antidote for the naïve, irrational, and weak in character. Rejection of God is associated with rationality and intelligence. However, such is their enlightenment and liberation that they are in the grip of a different and even destructive hegemony. One that encourages them to act against self-preservation. One that builds Rupert Murdochs and equips them with such powers that world leaders appear mere puppets in comparison. One that fuels organizations like Americans for Prosperity, exploiting the poor and protecting the rich.

To our atheist betters, it may logically follow that a god-fearing people are an irrational, suggestible lot. Thus it is a tad embarrassing for them to emerge in the grip of such acute hegemony that it allows them to be exploited by the corrupt.

Corruption is universal. India may not possess the incredible ability to hide it, in the words of Lennon, “behind a smokescreen of bourgeois clichés”. Our rational and enlightened sister countries not only wallow in it, but relentlessly deny its existence. A case of double deception.

Comfort Eagle

2011-03-07T08:16:00.000-08:00

Imagine a white person, born into the upper class elite, in a western country where prosperity abounds. Such a man (gender assigned purely for convenience’s sake) has, from the time he was born, lived a life of comfort. He has never had to worry about where or how he will get his next meal. He has never had to worry about not being able to find a job. He can choose to either take up a job or not, because the State will support him anyway. He has not grown up in a society where the resources are acutely less than the population among which it needs to be distributed. He has lived all his life in comfort, without the need to worry that he may ever lose this comfort. He has also never been required to work too hard to achieve this comfort. He has not grown up in a society where child protection is NOT just a telephone call away. He has not grown up in a society where a child can be beaten with a stick by his own parents, and passersby will find it normal. He has never been hit by ANYONE, without knowing that he can hit them back. He can pursue a college education at any age he likes, because he enjoys the certainty of his fees being paid for by the State. He has never had to think beyond himself.

In such a man’s dictionary, the word SURVIVAL does not exist. Because surviving has not been a very difficult thing to do.

Now this man grows bored of the society in which he has been living: being comfortable isn’t a particularly tiring vocation. He feels that the people around him waste their time eating, drinking and sitting like louts in front of inane television programs. He feels the need to leave such a society and live in a completely different one.

So now imagine that this man visits a developing nation. In this country, the State supports no one. In this country, if you want to live, you have to make your own money. If you want money, you have to procure a job. If you want a job, you have to have an education. If you want a job that allows you to live COMFORTABLY, you have to have higher education. And if you want an education, you have to pay for it yourself. If you are a minor, your parents have to pay for your education. For your parents to pay for this education, they have to start saving money before you are even born. Yet, the above mentioned white man wonders why everyone in this country seems so desperate. He wonders why everyone seems eager to achieve material comforts. Everyone can think only of procuring an education, and then a job, which seems to be the key to a comfortable life. He wonders why people cannot think beyond themselves, and change the system. He wonders why people want to be left alone and to just manage to live a decent existence.

Yet he is no different from the people he is so quick to judge. He too seeks comfort and a good life. The only difference is that he has been accustomed to such a life: for him, such a life comes free. He merely seeks to continue such an existence. The other man has never experienced it, and merely seeks to ACHIEVE it.

“Freedom can only be exercised by people who are protected from the lack.”

Ten funny things about White Men in India.

2011-03-05T00:34:00.000-08:00

1. If a white man says he can eat spicy food, he actually cannot.

2. White men who come to India to “get away from their own society”, come to India and look for other white people with whom they can relate.

3. White men who come to India to “get away from their own society” are also disappointed to find that they cannot get the same social atmosphere (read parties, drinking, dancing and other bourgeois activities) they were accustomed to.

4. However, if they do find the above mentioned things, they complain about how Indians try to ape the west.

5. White man comes to India and expects to eat any cuisine other than Indian.

6. White man speaking words in an Indian language usually thinks he’s pronouncing it correctly.

7. He also thinks that the Indian man nodding at what he is saying, clearly comprehends him.

8. White man comes to India and complains that the weather is hot! Aha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

9. White men “experience” racism in India.

10. An uncomfortable white man, is an annoyed white man (comfort in the physical sense). Yet white people think they are more mature than other Indians their age.

Power?

2011-02-20T20:30:00.001-08:00

Is knowledge power? Self control is power.

2010-04-29T07:28:00.000-07:00

I miss you. *sigh* But does anyone care?

2009-10-13T03:29:00.000-07:00

Moneedeepa, get a life.

Go get screwed, be someone's wife.

Go cook some rice or wash some clothes,

Or pick your fleshy, bulbous nose.

Moneedeepa, what's your prob?

You seem sorely in want of job.

So tell me Monee, what's up ya?

Have you an itch there in your bra?

Perhaps you have designs upon

The Psycho. Does he turn you on?

Does he drive you raving mad?

And make you want him real bad???

CONUNDRUMS

2009-06-25T23:28:00.000-07:00

And then you breathed a tiny sigh,
A crystal hung midair
Between us, facing you and I,
Reflecting silverware
Across the room, your face, and mine.
Conundrums lying bare
Upon your plate to sip with wine
And Londonderry Air.

And as I reached into your eyes,
Your thoughts, they rose to mine
On whispered waves and strove to prise,
Seduce and intertwine.
And then your button popped. It hit
Me square upon the nose.
We thought we heard conundrums split,
But t'was my pantyhose.

Oh well, that's how it ends. You reached
Your sticky hand for mine.
My hairy upperlip was bleached
So kissing turned out fine.
We played some footsie, drank more wine,
Then cleared the meal away;
And stored conundrums safe in brine
To use another day.

2009-06-01T04:58:00.000-07:00

Stu

pen

Sam said, see they stole

stuff I

ash

in the

king

sink

the sink

in the

king

sink.

And I said,

but why

one whack what whiffs

who

but why

hack

2009-05-27T08:04:00.000-07:00

I am cupcake. I am gigolo. I am fool on the hill. I am ten green bottles standing on the wall. I am stimulated amygdala and nociceptors running amok. I am Brother Grimm. I am tintinnabulation. I am teacloth. I am Rajnikant. I am upon a winter's night. I am Red Riding hood. I am seven toes, three fingers and an eye patch. I am 10.55. I am acciacatura. I am standard quote. I am asymptote. I am free verse. I am rhyme. I am hat full of sky. I am fiddlestick. I am September. I am whore. I am last blue mountain. I am remix version of O Come All Ye Faithful. I am plagiarist. I am exceeding abundantly. I am rainbow. I am snigger. I am you. I am me. I am everything you see. Actually, I'm the MGM lion. I am replay. I'm beginning to feel rather clichéd. All I can do is roar within that frame. It makes me quite frustrated. And incompetent. Do you blame me? I mean, how many people do you think remember me at the end of the film? I demand equal rights. I demand freedom of expression. I demand a lawyer. And a publicist. And a real estate agent. I wouldn't mind the three little pigs as well. I'm rather fond of pork.

In Memoriam

2009-05-22T06:47:00.000-07:00

The boy has left, forever gone.
I watch his monkey sit and mourn.
It licks it’s bloodied balls and sighs
And then tries on some shoes and ties
The boy left him. It combs it’s hair
(whatever’s left), then plays an air
Upon the big, brass, shiny flute
The boy once used to play.

The monkey plays a tune I knew
When creatures of it’s kind were few.
It stops, it looks at me, it winks,
It pours itself some wine and drinks.
The monkey smooths the pinned-on tail
The boy once got him at a sale.
And troubled, kicks away the flute
The boy once used to play.

2009-05-09T02:59:00.001-07:00

Remember the day I brought a watermelon? I bought it from the little old lady outside your house. When you saw it you said, Ooh hep, watermelon. And we cut it and we ate it. And I was happy because you were happy.

Remember that time we were standing in the kitchen? I was making lemon tea. You were behind me. You held me by the waist, arms wrapped tightly around me. It’s unlucky to let go, you said. And I was happy because you were happy.

You cut yourself a slice of watermelon. While I cut mine into squares and ate it with a fork. It’s no fun eating it with a fork, you said. You have to dig in with your teeth and get melon all over your face, you said. You slurped it noisily and rubbed the rind all over your face. You laughed at my expression and slurped some more. And I was happy, because you were.

You followed me around the kitchen, your arms never leaving my waist. From stove to sink and back again. It made me laugh and try to wriggle free. It’s unlucky, you insisted, mustn’t let go. Your beard tickling my neck. Your breath on my ear. And I was happy, because you were.

I also brought lemons to make sherbet. Do you have salt and sugar? Yes, you said, the only condiments I have. I took them down from the shelf, and then your cousin came calling. With his fiancé. Perhaps that day you were not happy after all.

Perhaps you never were happy.

2009-05-09T02:59:00.000-07:00

And after some weeks, as the days began to grow longer, and the nights, warm and dry, they began to complain. And they began to curse the one who had rescued them and brought them out of captivity. Why did you bring us out of that place? they said. Would you had left us there. We would have been better off. We would have had meat to eat and wine to drink. We would have had perfumes to smell and oils to bathe with. We would have washed another’s dirty linen and kissed the dust from his sandals. We would have borne whiplash upon whiplash in mute surrender. We would have given love, and received none in return. We would have made lesions on our chests, cut open our ribs and brought forth our hearts, torn and bleeding. We would have placed these at their feet. To preserve in formaldehyde, or be kicked into a corner in irritation. We would have cut off our hair and wiped their feet with it. We would have torn the clothes off our backs and laid them out for them to walk on. Take us back, for that is where we want to be.

2009-05-04T05:44:00.000-07:00

The fat man across the hall has sleep apnea. He also has body odour, mild dementia and a cat named Penile Tumescence. Last week the fat man asked me to marry him. We were standing outside Yesesi Supermarket. He was carrying peanut chikky, razor blades and Penile Tumescence in a white plastic bag. The fat man looked like he hadn't washed for months. The plastic bag looked as if it might burst any minute. I was tempted to refuse but told him I'd think about it.

When I got home I found an anonymous love note and peanut chikky in a purplish-grey envelope that had been sealed with something that smelled a lot like stale mustard and saliva.

Somebody rang the bell at 3am. The fat man was standing in the hallway with Penile Tumescence under his arm. His t-shirt read “I am the Lizard King, I can do anything”.