Chronicles of Dearth : The case of missing Yaun-doms

….there was a planet called Dearth. The dominant specie on the planet was called Insane (pronounced In-saan*). The name of the planet had seen better days but Insanes had squeezed out all of the planet’s resources and thus a resolution was passed to change the name of the planet to commemorate the achievement.

An interesting episode happened on POL011 on planet Dearth in the klear 5690*. POL or Piece Of Land is very similar to how we define countries on Earth.

POL011 was the second most populated POL on Dearth and this was a major concern for the King. Now the king did not have any real power other than to be a poster boy or pardoning convicts he found sexy. The real power sat with his Prime Minister who was a part of a governing body. Sadly, the Prime Minister was as helpless as the King. He was deaf and dumb and was puppeted by the governing body run by Madaam Pasta.

Population explosion was such an immense problem on POL011 that the King, PM and Madaam Pasta decided that insanes have to be educated about not producing babies every time a power cut happened. Educating the insanes of POL011 was as difficult as asking the PM to speak two words, so the governing body finally passed a bill to put 11000 yaun-dom* machines throughout the POL. Yaun-dom were special devices very similar to our condoms but with a special chip embedded in them which made them reusable.  They were almost like mini- robots that could lid the desirable places.

One fine Klatoony day (Klatoon was the name of their Sun), a minister came running as Madaam Pasta was pouring  cere-lack in baba’s mouth. Baba was her 40 Klat-years old son.

“Madaam!! They are all gone!” the minister said as he kissed her ring.

“Elaborato,” Madaam said with exasperation.

“Madaam, all the Strawberry flavoured yaun-doms are missing from the machines!” the minister said.

Madaam raised one of her eye brows and looked at baba.

“What? Noooo! Of course not! And that is not even my favourite flavour! Why don’t you ask Zeezaazee?” Baba said throwing his hands in the air.

” Your Zeezaazee is a poor farmer. I don’t think he uses local brands,” Madaam said thoughtfully.  

A few minutes later, an SOS message was sent to the ministers to immediately teleport themselves in the King’s War room. After everyone had arrived, the Prime Minister was the first to speak. He talked in sign language which was interpreted and voiced by a T608BOSS robot standing behind him.

“Did we check with Ass-aram? We might have to raid his ass-rum,” the robot said.

“I don’t think he uses yaun-doms,” the King said trying to hold a giggle which earned a stearn look from Madaam.

“What about Imraan Kissme?” a minister asked.

“Checked. He is clean.”

“No one in this fuc*ing POL uses a yaun-dom. That was the fuc*ing point of installing the machines. Do you even realize what will happen if the media gets a whiff of this?” Madaam Pasta screamed, Unable to hold herself anymore.

The robot coughed.

“Get the MIB on it,” Madaam said.

The MIB (Madaam Investigation Bureou) was a coveted organization that was given only those tasks that were supposed to linger on for hundreds of Dearth years. So this decision emancipated nothing but a collective gasp from the ministers and a quick sign from the PM which made the robot gasp an electronic gasp.

The MIB started its investigation but things were about to get worse. Soon, the chocolate flavoured yaun-doms went missing from the machines. And then the news was leaked to the media. And then the banana flavoured ones went missing too.

The media houses did everything from organising panels to discuss the order in which flavours went missing to showing closeups of yaun-dom vending machines for hours as hinsanes (male insanes) cried bitterly holding the machines in their arms. As the king pondered over a proposal of installing hi-tech fly shaped, almost invisible 6755SONAM cameras on all the machines, media houses conducted audience polls to know the favourite flavous of the citizens.  Unsurprisingly, the result came in exactly the order in which the yaun-doms went missing.

[Others including lichi, pomegranate, butter scotch, vanilla etc]

Even after the cameras were installed and MIB worked full time on the case, flavours after flavours vanished from the machines. There was anger in the inhabitants of POL011 as they loved getting things for free and the King seemed simply incapable of providing them the simplest of such free pleasures. There were marches on the street where insanes dressed up as huge yaun-doms and burnt outdated robots dresses up as the King, PM and Madaam. The Po-lice was deployed who stunned the protestors (especially shinsanes (female insanes)) by touching them with their tasers at inappropriate places. The situation went quickly out of hand.

The PM finally addressed the POL. The robot stood behind him and passed on his message as the PM gestured.

Finally, the yaun-dom machines went empty and MIB searched fervently for an excuse for its incompetency. The MIB chief got a personalized slap from Madaam Pasta. The King launched a new scheme called YYHH (yaun-dom yaun-dom Hota Hai) where the citizens were given door to door service of their favourite flavours. A huge amount of currency was transferred from the SOD (Save Our Dearth) fund for this activity.

The flaw in the scheme was stark the very next year when the sale of balloons declined during the festival of la-colourina*. The king realised with horror that the insanes of POL011 wanted to collect free yaun-doms for an entirely different reason but it was too late to make any amendments. To recover the losses, Madaam Pasta gave a brilliant idea to increase the breathing tax.

*  *  *

Meanwhile, in the neighbouring POL92, the notorious gangster The-wood was laughing hysterically in the company of the King of POL92 and his ministers. POL92 was enemies with POL011 over a disputed area called POL011-0191.

“This was a brilliant idea. Who needs killing drones and bombs?” the King said.

“The-wood is a brilliant mastermind. Who would have thought of this,” one of the ministers said.

“Yes, they are already on the brink of a collapse, teaming like nanodrakes*. All we had to do was to give then a nudge. And no one believes in using yaun-doms in that POL. The idiots believe in the more the merrier,” The-wood said.

Later at his home, The-wood went to the store room and took almost half an hour to select a flavour to use that night, chuckling at his idea of using a teleporter on a robotic fly to steal the yaun-doms.

*Insaan – means human in Arabic. It is a commonly used word in Hindi

*yaun – Copulation

*nanodrakes – very similar to ants. They can copulate from both ends and hence indulge in chain-mating.

*la-colourina – A festival similar to Holi but played only with  balloons. In recent years, price of balloons have gone up in POL011, just like the price of petrol in India.

*klear 5690 – Similar to Earth years. On Dearth, a klear consists of 225 days. Each day is 12 hours long. Insanes work only for 3 hours a day.

The news that inspired this post – 10,000 condom machines missing, CAG finds

My USA is here

We all know of the utter disdain with which the oldies refer to the new generation as – oh! Those aping west types. They cleverly forget those decades of their own affinity towards the bell bottoms, Elvis hairstyles and humongous shirt collars that resembled this fish –

Yes, we do try to be the west (which basically means USA to us) by talking in that funny fake accent and looking at them for approvals for everything from Modi to Oscars, but we do not believe that you have to ‘ape’ them to turn this country into USA. Now as our government officials prefer changing names of cities to swatting flies, consider a hypothetical situation where the name of our beloved motherland is changed to USA. Now the ‘A’ in this new USA can stand for a lot many things.

For example –

We can be the United States of Amoeba. Look at the rapid rate at which the states are multiplying. From 26 in my school days, we are now at 29. Or is it 30? And then in a very Draupadi-ish style, we share the capitals too. Chandigarh is being bedded by Haryana and Punjab since ages and now Hyderabad has joined the ranks. We have divided this whole whale of a state in two and it is impossible to find a city to create a new capital? The A for Amoeba can also symbolize the way humans divide in this country although the mode is far from asexual. Coming to think of it, we would have preferred it to be asexual. Then the girls and boys would have held hands and played ring-a-ring-a-roses without their parents fretting about the slaughter of cultural values.

We can also be the United States of Aunties. It may represent the nosy aunty brained politicians who recently arm-twisted the RTI act to save their asses. It can also represent those aunties who bully the vegetable vendor into reducing the prices by 36 paise, threaten him with dire consequences if he does not add free extra chilies to her bag and feel proud of their achievement for the rest of the day.

While we are at aunties, allow me to vent a bit gracious reader.

There is this old hag with whom we share our builder floor house. She lives in the ground floor with her husband (who has this permanent expression of shock on his face as if there is a cactus shoved up his ass), her elder son and his wife (the couple fights with the capacity of two Godzillas. The son is completely incoherent and blabbers in an alien language when he is fighting with his wife. Yes, we can hear everything) and her younger son and his wife (recently married, the couple was in a hurry to reproduce. It has just been a year and the couple already has a baby). So, this insufferable woman has a habit of coming up with brilliant ideas to piss everyone off. A few days back, she invited a few homeless local workers to create huts in an empty plot next to ours (a common sight in NCR). The plot is not hers. Her reason? She needs a new maid and she can pick one from the hut. We politely asked her to fu*k off because this is how illegal colonies flourish.

This pathetic excuse of a human being and her gang of similar creatures are also famous for poking their nose in everyone’s affairs. One night, I will don my Batman suite and hang this whole gang upside down from a high-rise.

Feeling unburdened now, we come back to the topic.

We can be the United States of Apathy, because this is what we teach our children. Nothing is more important than you, your family, your dog, your underwear and your money. Not even another human’s life. We are masters in the art. In fact the leftover compassionate people who have not yet converted should be caught and dragged into gas chambers and vaporized, just like those unnecessary Jews who lived a few decades back.

We can be the United States of Applesauce. Appreciating nonsense is one of our greatest achievements. Look at our daily sitcoms, our news channels, our politicians, our reality shows, our movies and our advertisements – everything is loaded with a slapstick sauce, laden with toppings of buffoonery, laced with layers of stereotypes and mixed with a sense of senselessness. Anything ‘normal’ is called ‘art’. We believe that fairness of the skin brings success. And we love it when SRK plays a Madrasi and licks dal off his arm.

We can be the United States of Arnab. Look at the way our own Superman Arnab singlehandedly bring the culprits to justice by his uncontrollable squeaks. Look at the way he ‘demands’ answers that make the most seasoned politicians cringe in their chairs, sweat instantly and beg for forgiveness. We can all roll at his feet and ask him to give his name to the country.

So you see, we really do not have to ape the west to be USA. We have all the right ingredients present right under our nose. All we have to do is to follow our heart, open our eyes and the path will unwrap in front of us. We are already living in USA. All we have to do is choose the right ‘A’.

Do you have any other ideas for what ‘A’ can stand for, O! Reader? I am contemplating starting a petition on change.org to amend the name of our country. Looking forward to your support.

[image from here and here]

Slaughterhouse Country

image from here

I remember a tragic incident from the time when I was in school. There was a narrow two lane bridge on Yamuna close to my house. One fine day, a school bus plunged into the river from that bridge. Reason? The driver lost control because of his rash driving. The children could have been saved if the bridge had a strong concrete railing instead of a feeble iron one, similar to the one used in the balcony of houses. I still remember the face of a mother whose son was never found. The water was too muddy – the divers said. They searched for five days.

Do you know how many children were there in the bus? 120.

One of my British colleagues once made a very interesting observation. He said that we do not treasure life because we believe it is cyclical. We believe that anyone who dies will be reborn and thus don’t care about anyone dying.

Laughable?

But look around you. 4,97,686 road accidents were reported in 2011. 1,42,484 people died in road accidents in 2011 [link]. The statistics are easily available. A lot of us know about them. Still we see people incessantly breaking traffic rules. I have seen school buses jump traffic lights and ply in the wrong direction.

I remember a particular flyover that was constructed in Delhi. It was faulty with a very dangerous curve. It took the sacrifice of 8 human lives on that stretch before the administration woke up. Yes, DDA waited for 8 people to die before they installed safety measures.

How many pilots have died in the faulty MIG airplane crashes? Of the 872 MiG series fighter aircraft purchased by the government till 1980, a total of 482 planes have crashed till now, killing 171 pilots and 39 civilians [link]. Well, we have 390 more airplanes to go.

What happened in Uttarakhand was a mass murder of the first degree. More than 10000 people massacred in cold blood. Warnings were ignored and there was no disaster management plan in place, hotels made on soft riverbed crashed into the river, food didn’t reach the needy on time even though the whole country chipped in to provide supplies.

There are so many buildings that are deemed unfit in case of an earthquake but people still live in them, work in them.

There are buses and trains that run over capacity as people hang dangerously from the doors. They don’t have an option. They have to go to work, put food on the table. I knew a boy who fell off a train, went into coma and died after 10 days. He was in college.

We leave rape victims to die helplessly on the roads. It has taken the sacrifice of thousands of acid attack victims for the rulers to wake up and do something about it. [link][link2]

In 2010, 8391 dowry death cases were reported across India. It means that a bride was burned every 90 minutes [link]

It is estimated that more than 10 million female foetuses have been illegally aborted in India. That is 6 million less than the number of people who died in World War I. In 2011, 15,000 Indian women were bought and sold as brides in areas where foeticide has led to a lack of women. [link]

India contributes 25 percent of the world’s child deaths [link].

Grains rot and never reach the needy. 21 million tonnes of wheat is wasted every year. [link] That is equivalent to the wheat production of whole of Australia.

2,56,913 farmers have committed suicide since 1995. Maharashtra posts a dismal picture with over 50,000 farmers killing themselves. [link]

Don’t even try to count the number of riot victims. [link] Religion in this country is like a woman who was tied-up and hidden in a cowshed and was raped by a different man every night.

What is it if not an utter disregard of human life? What is it if not a country that has turned into a slaughterhouse?

No, I do not find the cyclical life argument laughable anymore. What makes us think that even a single life lost is Ok? It is not just a number. It is a dead human being. Who could have been saved.

And then I wonder if it has something to do with abundance of life? We deem life worthless because it is available in excess in our country? What is another man dead when we have crores of them?

Or is it the fact that we are never taught compassion. An outsider is not the same as your family. We have a shield firmly placed in front of our feelings when it comes to anyone who is not of our own blood. And I have seen this feeling grow over the last decade. We are more self-centered, more suspicious, more inhuman.

And of course, there is money to be made. We believe in compensations after tragedies. We believe in forming committees to probe deaths when we could have averted them in the first place. Committees about which the dead don’t care and neither the living after a while.

Some of us believe in repenting. Yes, we tend to do that after an accident. An accident that could have never happened.

Sometimes I wonder if we deserve each other. The politicians and citizens. Many of us have blood on our hands. We have wrapped our dead unborn daughters in newspaper and thrown them in dustbins, haven’t we? We have allowed our children to sit in a bus filled with 120 souls instead of objecting.

Yes, this slaughterhouse is a joint venture and a successful one. It is said that when the battle of Mahabharat ended, the soil in Kurukshetra was thick with blood. It is still red if you dig it a bit. But we don’t have to do it anymore. Just look at your hands. It will be invisible at first but you will see the red stains if you concentrate.

A handful of us who can still maintain our sanity have to believe that there is always hope. What else can be there after so much bloodshed?

Misanthropically Yours

Image from – http://wall.alphacoders.com/big.php?i=177417

I am turning into a misanthrope. I don’t want to but when I see a five year old raped and tortured, when I hear news of a bottle and candles retrieved from her vagina, when I see a policeman offer Rs 2000 to the raped girl’s father to let go of the thought of an FIR, when I see a policeman telling the survivor’s family that they should be thankful that the girl is alive, when I see a policeman slapping a protesting girl, when I see politicization of the issue, I don’t see how I can stop myself from hating mankind.

My generation has not seen the World Wars but I have read enough books, seen enough movies, seen enough documentaries to understand what happened. I know how a culture was obliterated, how it was turned into gaseous fumes coming out of a chimney of a camp. I know how millions of carcasses were shoved into pits using trenchers, I know how two entire cities where vapourised in the name of peace. The images are entrenched in my mind. I can never forget the image of a four year old naked Jew boy running towards a barbed fence of a concentration camp as a German shepherd chased him. I felt lucky that I haven’t lived in those times but the ironical bit about history is that it doesn’t matter. It is an embarrassment everyone wants to forget and then commit again. And no, you are never lucky enough. The end of barbarism can never be a done deal.

Has the world turned into a better place to live? Is this a meaningless question? Can our society function without brutality or will it crumble to pieces in its absence?

I do not understand this race anymore. I do not understand why I have to live in a constant fear of losing my loved ones. I do not understand the brutal images of what could happen to my family that spring in my mind every other day. I do not understand the utter abjection with which we treat each other.

I sometimes feel that my mind will explode into a million tiny pieces. I sometimes want to howl with pain, scream so loud that the sound exterminates every human from the face of Earth. I want to give this planet another chance, something that is not possible till humans infect it.

They tell me that I should be grateful for the good life God has given me. I have a loving family and a happy life. Is that good enough reason to be satisfied, to count my lucky stars? How can I be happy when I look around and see misery? How can I be happy when I read about men exploding themselves in marketplaces to serve their God? How can I be happy when I belong to a country where the fragile culture is all about encouraging rapes and molestation? How can I be happy when I see a doctor telling the parents that they can wrap the dead female fetus in a newspaper and throw it in the dustbin on their way out? How can I be happy when I see the subjugation of the weak at every nook and corner? I don’t know how people cocoon themselves and live a detached life. I feel violated.

They tell me that there is good in the world. I would like to believe that but how is good a part of the solution? Is it growing? Is it reducing the coldness? How many more sacrifices before it takes over?

No. Telling me that there is good in the world is not good enough. Tell me how the world is getting better because that is what I want to know. And don’t call me a pessimist. I am only numb with horror. I see things getting worse all around me.

I am scared to bring a child in this world. I am scared that I will spend the rest of my life worrying for the safety of my kid. Apathy has no boundaries. It is a limitless ocean, it is a black hole that has sucked everything that was good in this world. I don’t want my child to live in its shadow and I don’t want to put a cage around my child. I don’t want to live the rest of my life pretending that I live in a war zone.

I wish to meet that 5 year old girl. I wish to hold her in my arms and tell her that it will be all right. I wish she looks at me and smile. I wish to live in a world where this heavy burden of fear does not exist on my chest. I wonder how it feels to live without it. Just thinking about its absence makes me feel rejuvenated, makes me feel like a freed slave. I wish to live in a world where power is not brutal, where humans are not derailed psychopaths, where life is treated as an invaluable gift, where happiness is not insulated and confined to a selected few, where God has no face.

The night sky fills me with awe. The stars and planets are nature’s way of telling us about our insignificance, about our diminutive presence in the universe. And we still have the intrepidity of hurting each other, of clawing at each other’s soul, of raping a 5 year old.

Isn’t that enough reason to be a misanthrope?

Strike Daddy is hiring!

Wanted – Strike Care Executives (SCE) to carry out systematic and methodological strikes of varying degrees in India and abroad.

Company Profile – Strike Daddy is a reputed firm that has an elite list of clandestine clientele who firmly believe in strikes and its positive outcomes. Our clients include prominent political parties, businessmen and unions. We specialize in organized strikes and are an OSMMI (Organised Strike Maturity Model Index) Level 5 company. Our success rate is 100% with a variance of +/- 5%. Our annual turnover (not including the black money) is 2000 crores per year which makes us the Number One Strike Specialist of India. We have been awarded the coveted Best Strike Organizer award by the ISU (International Strike Union) 4 times in a row from 2008-2012.

Job Details –

SCE-TV (Trainee Vandals) We are hiring inexperienced staff for our operations all across India. Field experience in an established company is not required. However, the aspirants must provide proof of roadside squabbles/fist fights/gun fights etc. Applicant should have failed in at least one class in his/her school. People who have not completed school and who aspire to become politicians will be preferred. Please do not apply if you look like Bollywood actor Imran Khan. Experience : 0-6 months

SCE-AV (Associate Vandals) : Applicant should have relevant work experience in a reputed Strike Organization (SO) firm. It is mandatory to carry a copy of all the FIRs lodged against the applicant. Applicants with more than 5 FIRs will be given preference. Applicant should have at least 1.5 years of field experience which must include one or more of the following activities – burning of public vehicles, smashing windows and doors of offices, manhandling/beating common man, shouting slogans, clash with police. Genuine photographs showing the applicant indulging in the above mentioned acts will be accepted. Men can also submit proofs of molestations/rape charges. Experience : 6 months – 3 years

SCE-SV (Senior Vandals) : In addition to a relevant work experience in a reputed SO firm, the applicant should have a field experience of at least 5.5 years. The applicant should have spent at least one year in jail (need not be a continuous one year term). The applicant should be a political aspirant and should have at least 2 rape charges (NA for women applicants), 10 molestation charges (NA for women applicants), 5 murder/kidnapping/black-marketing/dacoity/corruption charges pending against him/her in various courts in India. It is mandatory for the applicant to have bashed at least 2 policemen. Must have lead to the death of at least 5 people by a traffic jam or a train delay. Experience : 3 years – 7 years

Documents required – Applicants should bring substantial proofs like photographs, newspaper clippings (containing name or a clear picture of the applicant), hospital bills, television report clips (showing applicant in a clear view), FIR reports, Court case documents, Jail term proofs etc. Please note that witness accounts are not acceptable. Please do not bring broken teeth/chopped fingers/skin fragments/ears/tongue/eyeballs of your victims as proof.

Selection Procedure – We use advanced SST (Simulated Strike Tests) to evaluate the applicants on a point based exam. We use cut edge technologies like SSM (Scream Shrillness Meters), FCM (Fight Capacity Meters), AC (Animalism Capacitors), PE (Pyrophobia Evaluators), ECBCM (Effigy Creation & Burning Capability Model) etc to judge the capacity of the applicants to become a reputed Strike Care Executive. There will be group discussion rounds. Dummy Knives, stones, tree stumps, hockey sticks, swords and pistols will be provided for the same. Please do not bring any personal equipment.

Training Details – Our various level of SCC (Savage Creation Certifications) are specially designed to give you the required boost in your career. Based on your relevant years of experience, you can get a certification from Level 0 to 5. In addition to regular theory classes in strike procedures there are practical coaching by celebrity Strike Care Executives (SCE) as well. In the end of the induction course, there is an internship for 2 weeks with a reputed SCE before a final evaluation and project assignment.

Job Application Details – Walk-ins on 4th and 5th March 2013 in our headquarters in Noida, which is the best location for hands-on experience. If you are not able to attend the walk-in, please send your resume to fire&ash&guns&cash@strikedaddy.com.

Handsome salaries available. Opportunity to work in various locations in India with reputed clients. Onsite opportunities also available.

Chocolaty boys and Chui-mui girls need not apply. If you have been rejected in the last 6 months by us, don’t push your luck and make us come after you by applying again.

[image from here]

The Zoo of Democracy – Guest Post on KayEm’s blog

It is a zoo of wonders, the first of its kind. It is a necessity too. Where else can we keep all those dangerous, carnivorous animals we have caught? The funding is clandestine but everyone knows where it comes from. There are enough madmen in the country with a lot of money.

It is named – The Zoo of Democracy.

So, one fine day I asked my wife if she would like to go out for a picnic. The new Zoo of Democracy was the latest attraction added to the many attractions of Delhi and I was hearing amazing reviews of it.

What happened at the zoo?

Who was that guide wearing a saffron shirt, white trousers and green shoes?

Jump to KayEm’s blog to read more – The Zoo of democracy.

Indian Idle

“Hello everyone! I am Nitin Haddkari and you are watching a very special episode of Celebrity Indian Idle! Please welcome our judges for tonight’s show. Our first judge is our very own number 2, Mr. Raul Gandhi…..” 

“What does Raul know about dance?” Mrs. Shukla who was sitting in the crowd whispered to her neighbour.

“Does it matter? What do Sajid Khan, Karan Johar and Mithun Chakraborty know about dance?” Mrs. Taneja replied.

“And why is Haddkari even hosting this show?” Mrs. Shukla asked.

“What else is there to do now? Besides, his hairy legs are turning me on,” Mrs. Taneja replied.

“Ummm. Me too.” 

“….Our second judge for tonight is Asaram Beg-u, who has taken out time from his busy schedule to be on this show. We had to beg for his presence because that is what he likes to see people do……”

“Christ!” Mrs. Shukla gasped.

“……….Our third judge is my driver Mansukhiya. Mansukhiya has been a loyal servant of our family from the last 20 years and is the CEO of one of my companies. So let’s have a round of applause for our judges and let’s begin the show!!”

The judges take their seats. Raul and Asaram Beg-u have quite a tussle for the centre seat but then Raul points at Rob-us Wadra sitting in the audience. Beg-u mumbles somethings like ‘bloody national calamity’ and sits on one of the side seats. Mansukhiya sits on the floor before Haddkari comes and yanks his arm and say something like ‘Are you Chu*iya?’ and pushes him on one of the seat. 

“Our first contestant is the very gorgeous Sonak-chi Sinha! She has done some amazing award-winning work last year in movies like Rowdy Rathore, Joker, Dabangg 2 and Son of Sardar! Please welcome!” Haddkari announces.

All 130 kg of Sonak-chi Sinha enters the stage in a bright red sari. The song Po-Po-Po-Po-Po fills the auditorium and Sonak-chi gargles to the tune. The audience cheer her loudly. Shatru-gun Sinha is in tears to see his baby girl do him proud.

“That was a perfect performance! Judges what do you have to say to this?” Haddkari asks the judges as Sonak-chi stands next to him chewing her finger.

“I loved it! Sonak-chi, your performance reminded me of our scams. The gargle step is so much like the way we have gargled the citizens of the nation and spit them out. Outstanding!” Raul beamed.

“It was a beautiful performance. Sonak-chi, will you come to my camp and dance with me?” Asaram ji asked shyly.

“Rubbish performance! Ye koi dance hai (Is this dance)?” Mansukhiya mumbled. There is a collective gasp and everyone stares at him. Haddkari throws his mike at him.

“Saale harami! Nikal bahar! Bahar nikal! (Bloody illegitimate! Get out! Out get!)” Haddkari screams as he drags Mansukhiya out. Sonak-chi is bawling by now.

“Khamosh!” Shatru-gun Sinha screams from the audience podium which makes Sonak-chi instantly stop and shudder.

“Sorry ladies and gentlemen! Mansukhiya will be replaced by Kanta Ben who is my maid and the Chairman of one of my companies,” Haddkari announces. Kanta Ben comes and sits next to Raul. She smells of phenyl which makes Raul dizzy. He looks at Asaram Beg-u and is alarmed by a cockroach stumbling out of his beard.

“Our next contestant is our very own silencer MaunMohan Singh!” Haddkari announces.

MaunMohan Singh enters the stage and waves at the audience. He then proceeds to stand in the exact middle of the stage and stares at the audience for two minutes. He then looks at Haddkari and says – done. Raul is in tears by now.

“What a wonderfully poignant performance! Judges what do you have to say?”

“This was by far your best performance MaunMohan Ji. I am short of words,” Raul says wiping off his tears using Kanta Ben’s pallu. He almost faints in the process.

“You remind me so much of all those silent movies I have watched as a child. You have revived my old memories,” Asaram says wiping a sole tear with his beard.

“Aigo! Mast performance! After all, you have been practicing from the last 9 years.” Kanta Ben says.

“It seems MaunMohan ji have won the heart of our judges! Our next performance is a belly dance by the one and only Baba Rum-de! Please welcome!”

Baba Rum-de enters the stage and performs a unique belly dance called Kapalbhati where he flips alternate coins on his belly. He then makes the coins jump in air as the dance becomes fierce and his belly quivers alarmingly. One of the coin lands in Asaram’s beard and kills the cockroach residing there.

“That was one sexy performance Babaji. Lets ask the…..,” Haddkari said.

“You killed him! You bloody killer! You killed Abhimanyu!” Asaram was up on his seat before Haddkari could complete his sentence.

“Who in seven hells is Abhimanyu?” Raul asked.

“The cockroack,” Asaram said sobbing.

“Why did he name his pet cockroach Abhimanyu?” Mrs. Shukla whispered.

“Maybe it was his beard. The poor thing might have been lost in that chakravyuh for years,” Mrs. Taneja whispered back.

“What do you have to say Raul ji?” HaddKari asked.

“I loved it. It was very arousing,” Raul replied.

“Oh! You haven’t seen arousing yet *wink wink*. Kanta Ben?” HaddKari said.

“Mast! Mast! What a stomach! Jusht like the utensils after I clean them”

“Thank you Rum-de ji. It was an honour watching you dance. Our next participant is the sexy, the seductive, the pole-bearer Sunny le-nahi. Please welcome!”

A pole is fitted in the center of the stage and Sunny enters wrapped in a plastic sheet. The pole dance starts amidst wide eyes and rising trousers. Haddkari crosses his legs like Sharon Stone. Mrs. Shukla sighs and faints. Beg-u hides his face with his beard. Kanta Ben whispers deva-re-deva and covers Raul’s eyes with her pallu. He thrashes desperately for fresh air but chokes and faints. During the dance, the plastic sheet covering Sunny gets entangled in a nail on the pole and comes free. Kanta Ben faints too. Sunny keeps dancing. Haddkari is on all five begging for mercy. Rob-us Wadra whistles and fires shots in air from his expensive gun. The audience thrust their children under the seats. Bachelors are busy making video of the once-in-a-lifetime event. Married men stare at the ground as their wives study them intensely. Suddenly the programme goes off air.

There is an uproar on Twitter and internet about the way the programme turned vulgar in the end. A committee is organised. It is found that PoleMeBaby, the company that provided the pole used in Sunny’s performance is at fault as all this happened because of the nail. The licence of the company is cancelled.

And, of course, Sunny le-nahi wins the first prize of Celebrity Indian Idle. 

[images from 1,2,3,4]

The Middle Finger Awards 2012

Welcome to the Middle Finger Awards 2012 presented by Mashed Musings. The awards honors the best news makers of 2012 in various categories. We are committed to an unbiased and honest approach toward selecting the nominees and the winners. If you have any concerns about any of the winners not deserving his/her award, please keep it to yourself.
So, lets begin the ceremony.

*Drum rolls. Trumpets Blaring*

Here is the first category :

The Middle Finger Award for the Most Courageous act of 2012

And the nominees are :

Dr. Manmohan Singh – for gathering enough courage to address the nation 7 days after the protests and letting everyone know that he too is a father and there aren’t enough commandoes protecting his daughters. Theek hai?

Sheila Dixit – for having the courage to come to Jantar Mantar and lightening something that looked like a half burnt candle while the crowd booed her.

Anushka Sharma – for wearing a blue XXL vest in Kashmir for a Yash Chopra movie.

Delhi Police Chief, Neeraj Kumar – for his courageous act to save Delhi Police from further shame and twisting facts. Apparently, he hasn’t heard the story of the shepherd and the wolf.

Madhura Honey – for her courageous act of walking with the Indian team in Olympics opening ceremony in a red top and blue jeans looking completely out of place. Just like all those students in Student of the Year.

And the Middle Finger goes to *drum rolls* Manmohan Singh!!!! For his courageous bland as boiled pasta speech to pacify the nation.

Our next category is :

The Middle Finger Award for the Most limelight hungry Indian of 2012

The nominees are –

Abhijit Mukherjee – for the dented painted comment and letting Indians know that the President has a big mouthed son.

Kailash Vijayvargiya, Madhya Pradesh Minister – for talking about Laxman Rekha when he should have actually zipped it up.

Banwari Lal Singhal, BJP MLA, Rajasthan – for being disturbed by girls wearing skirts as he found it difficult to take his eyes off their legs.

Haryana Khaps – for leaving no stone unturned to be on national media and make us realize that humans haven’t completely evolved from apes.

Dharamvir Goyat, Haryana Congress member – for sharing his pearls of wisdom with us about 90% of rape cases being consensual.

And the Middle Finger goes to *drum rolls* the Haryana Khaps for their consistency in churning out drivel!!!

Our next category is :

The Middle Finger Award for The Best Blind Eye of 2012.

The nominees are –

Delhi Police – for using teargas, water cannons and Lathis on college students and women and then wondering why people threw stones at them.

BJP ministers in Karnataka – for turning a blind eye towards all the cameras pointed at them as they enjoyed porn in the assembly.

Indian Citizens – for craving for popcorn while they circled the rape victim lying naked, shivering and bleeding on the road.

Indian Politicians – for ignoring thousands of rape victims till waves of people came out on roads and threw stones.

Vijay Mallya – for donating 3 Kg gold to Tirupati temple while his employees went without salary for months.

And the Middle Finger goes to *drum rolls* the Indian Citizens for achieving the impossible of turning back the clock of human evolution.

Lets move to the next category which is :

The Middle Finger Award for the Most Confused Indian

The nominees are –

Pratibha Patil – for pardoning rapists and murderers and getting confused about her right to not to be a puppet who has to sign a pardon when asked.

Sushil Kumar Shinde – for confusing students with Maoists.

Arvind Kejriwal – for confusing the nation by jumping from one issue to another and giving everyone a terrible headache.

Saif Ali Khan – for his role in the movie Cocktail where he confused the audience in the first half into believing that he wasn’t playing an assho*e.

Delhi Police – for discussing confusing matters of jurisdiction as the rape victim and her friend lay on the road naked and bleeding.

And the Middle Finger goes to *drums roll* Pratibha Patil for letting loose deranged criminals on the society.

The next category is :

The Middle Finger Award for the most Dramatic Indian of 2012

And the nominees are –

Salman Khurshid – for his saas Bahu dialogues about replacing ink with blood if Arvind Kejriwal tried to enter his domain. No shit.

Robert Vadra – for collecting unmatched black wealth, mocking the nation and then getting away with it by saying something with a mango and banana in it.

Mamata Banerjee – for her histrionics by equating rapes to political conspiracies and asking profound questions like why men and women are allowed to mingle in our society.

Ponty brothers – for their swift and fortunate exit from the world.

Suresh Kalmadi – for having the nerve to express his desire to attend Olympics after being released on bail for the CWG scam.

And the Middle Finger goes to *drum rolls* Robert Vadra for his unmatched feat of taking the whole nation for a ride.

The next category is :

The Middle Finger Award of the most Senselessly Swift Indian of 2012

The nominees are –

Mumbai Police – for their swift response in arresting two girls for stating the truth on Facebook.

Delhi Police – for swiftly arresting 8 random men after a constable died in the protests and filing an FIR without any proof.

Akbaruddin Owaisi – for swiftly going underground in London after his arrest warrant was out in India.

Indian Government – for swiftly moving the rape victim to Singapore when it became apparent that she was not going to live.

The Dengue Mosquito – for swiftly taking away the king of romance, Yash Chopra in the blink of an eye.

And the Middle Finger goes to *drums roll* The Indian Government for acting in the nick of time to save themselves from the blame of the rape victim’s death.

The Middle Finger Lifetime Achievement Award

The  award goes to the man who held a whole city to ransom for years, who divided the country on the basis of the state in which you live and who wore sunglasses even in dark rooms – Shri Balasaheb Thackeray.

That’s it for this year folks! We sincerely hope that the viewers enjoyed the awards ceremony and congratulations to the most deserving winners. We will be back next year with more fun filled categories!!!

[image from 1, 2, 3]

Delhi is NOT India. Sexual crimes happen all over India.

When crime against women are committed in Delhi, the government suddenly springs to action IF there is a protest. An exception to this was the Guwahati molestation case because the video went viral. It was heartening that Delhi took to streets yesterday and forced the government to take notice (however bland it was) but the actions promised are a bit worrisome. There was no talk of taking up the issue at a national level. Our rulers (yeah, that is what they are. Rulers) should understand that applying quick fixes in Delhi will not solve the problem on a national scale.

According to the National Crime  Records Bureau (NCRB) data (1991-2011), Madhya Pradesh has led the nation in the number of rapes committed. Only last year, it recorded 3,406 cases of rape, which means nine women were raped here every 24 hours. Overall, the State accounted for 14 per cent of the rapes committed across the country in 2011. Among cities, the State capital, Bhopal, with 100 rapes, was second only to the metropolises Delhi (453) and Mumbai (221), while the State’s industrial capital, Indore, stood fifth, registering 91 rapes.

Not surprisingly, the top five States in terms of the number of rapes — Madhya Pradesh (3,406), West Bengal (2,363), Uttar Pradesh (2,042), Rajasthan (1,800) and Maharashtra (1,701) — also have dismal sex ratios. While Madhya Pradesh (930), Rajasthan (926) and Uttar Pradesh (908) have sex ratios below the national average of 940, West Bengal (947) and Maharashtra (946) are just on the threshold.

– from The Hindu

In February this year, a woman in Indore was gang-raped by eight people including a cop while her husband was kept in captivity. However the cops took their own sweet time to file an FIR. After the Delhi gang rape case, an abducted school girl was found raped and murdered in Chennai. She was 12. Let us not forget what happened to Sonali Mujherjee in Jharkhand when her face was splashed with acid and her father rubbed his nose in front of authorities for 10 years to get her treated as the criminals who did this to her were out on bail. And lets not forget that 19 rapes happened in a month in Haryana and no one raised an eyebrow.

And of course, Delhi goes on as usual when a 3 year old was raped by the husband of a play school owner. This happened after the Delhi gang rape incident. Clearly, the deterrents are not working. Clearly it is not an issue prevalent just in Delhi.

We are all aware of the various factors in play here which range from treating girl child as a liability to attitude within the government (where ministers blame women and mock them) and the police force to dismal conviction rates. All these problems will not vanish by hanging the gang rape accused of the Delhi case. And I am afraid that is where we are heading.

Punishing the accused is only one end of the spectrum. It happens after the crime has been committed. But what about preventive measures? I found a link to an article at Smitha’s blog which talked in this direction. Do read it here.

At this stage it would be pertinent to remember that the instances of perverts making lewd calls to women – which was a common phenomena in 1990s – dropped to virtually nil within a few years not because the Indian male underwent some sort of moral renaissance, but because phones started coming with caller IDs, and in a way disrupted the script.

– from the article

There are preventive measure which can be applied. More patrolling, better lightening of streets, gender sensitization, education, teaching your children about respecting other humans and gender equality, drilling messages through media. It will not happen immediately. It will take years. We cannot root out all the psychopaths that we have created over decades in one snap of a finger but we have to make a start. The government can play a vital role in this but everything will be defeated if this is not done on a national level.

In India, it takes a protest of the scale of what we saw yesterday to wake up the authorities. Even though the ruling party did call a press conference in the evening, everyone looked bored and completely unconcerned. They were behaving as if all of us were wasting their time. They were throwing technical jargon like rarest of rare rape cases and when asked what that means, they had no answer. When Barkha Dutt asked Sheila Dixit that why doesn’t she go and sit with the people and talk to them, she smiled and gave incoherent answers. Such attitude will not take us anywhere.

When the brutal killings of school children happened in USA a few days back, Obama was on television the next day addressing the nation. And the president was not ashamed of crying on national television. We do not expect something like this from our Prime Minister but he could have at least addressed the nation once? Why does the ruling class treat the very people who chose them as liabilities? Where is the connection, where is the concern?

I sincerely hope that the actions taken for sexual assaults are nationwide and not a quick fix which will crumble with the next rape. There is a limit to which we can tolerate this apathy.

[images from here]

It was not just the driver who raped her

It wasn’t just the driver and his accomplices. Such monsters are not raised in a day. It takes meticulous planning. The nation has chalked out plans for this incident for 60 years. The citizens have put intricate details in it which has led to this inevitable feat. We will keep planning. This is not the first time. This is not the end.

While they were raping her, India stood guard. We cheered them as we have cheered such psychopaths a hundred times before. We will cheer them in the future too. After all, we created them.  

Are you not finding it coherent? Let me indulge you.

Politicians

You are the real termites of this country. The fact that the country is completely hollow because of you does not deter you. You still prowl like a blood sucking vampire and won’t be satiated till you drink the last drop of blood of our motherland. You were given a task. You took an oath of nation building. You could have stopped what happened. Long time back. Had you looked away from your money mongering, your own chairs, you would have realised the pitiable state in which the women of this country live. You would have made laws to make their lives better. You would have enforced those laws. But then they were not your vote banks. They could not turn your chair over. And now you call a rape victim ‘Zinda Laash’ (alive corpse)? You are not helping here to make them feel normal and accepted. Stop using a raped woman to advance your political motives. Stop shedding crocodile tears. Sexual harassment law is lingering in the parliament since 2005. If there is an iota of shame in your soulless body, stop being a virus. You have done enough harm. Do we have to carry you like an albatross around our necks for the rest of our lives?

Law enforcers

Your job is not to scare citizens. Your job is not to harass a rape victim. Your job is not to pass comments on the morality of women when they come to you for help. You are no better than the politicians. The very people whom you should be protecting are scared to come to you. You think that the women who report rape eye monetary advancements out of it. You think they are of loose moral values. And sometimes you even rape an already raped woman who has come to you for help. It is because of law enforcers like you that we are in this state. It is because of you that these rapes happen unabated, because you lack the will to protect. Because you have no idea what your job entails. Because you treat your job as a money-making machine. That girl is fighting for her life in a hospital because of the shameful negligence with which you have carried out your responsibilities over the last 60 years.

Media

You have already pushed the news to page 4 after Narendra Modi’s win in Gujrat. It shows where your concern lie. A story is masala for a few days till a bigger one washes it away. You would have kept the candle burning. You would have encouraged the people to bring the outcry to a logical end. But like the law enforcers, you have sold yourself to the termites.

And Bollywood – Congratulations for providing the much-needed objectifying of a woman’s body through the media. Yes, that is exactly what this sexually oppressed nation wants for entertainment. With all your Chikni Chamelis and Halkat Jawanis, you have done the harm. So, do us a favour. Do not shed crocodile tears for that girl lying in the hospital because you are equally responsible for raising those monsters that night. You have been brainwashing this country since decades – propagating sexual harassment euphemistically as eve-teasing. You have so menacingly raised those street-side Romeos who then splash acid on a girl because they could not differentiate between reality and cinema. Knowing very well that this is a powerful media, you could have changed the course, taken up responsibility. But you too, like the rest, turned things to your advantage. You kicked an already regressive society into the pit of regression in the name of masala entertainment.

And stop portraying rape victims as unwanted and shunned by society. Grow up and snap out of that money-making brain of yours.

We, the Citizens

Yes, we are the worse offenders. The citizens of this nation. Every time we treat our mothers, sisters, daughters and wives as secondary, we contribute towards this choking patriarchal society which then acts as an umbilical chord that feed those monsters. Every time we tell our daughters that they are weaker than boys, we stomp their mind with self-doubts. Every time we stop the education of our daughters because our son has to study, we help those monsters grow manifold. Putting our daughter-in-laws in place, killing girls in the womb, putting restrictions on women, not allowing them to follow their dreams – all these acts have fuelled the events to culminate to the mess we are in right now. We even have the audacity to question the morals and circumstances of a victim since she is not related to us. We have turned into selfish creeps who stand and stare at acts of crime. We tsk tsk rape victims as if it was their fault.

We have been doing this from the last 60 years. Have we not raised these silent equivalent of terrorist camps in our own houses? We have been drawing a dividing line and now it is permanent, raising Frankensteins one after another. Why are we recoiling now? It was we who gave courage to that man to insert a rod in a woman’s vagina.

A society which comes to this does not deserve a second chance. How I wish the Mayans were right.

Mother India has been continuously raped since our independence – by politicians, by law enforcers, by media and by us. She is wounded with bruises filled with pus. And we are that pus. Feeding on her. Killing her slowly.  Her own children.

And that is her curse.

No, it wasn’t just the driver and his accomplices who raped the girl that night. And they are not the only one who should be hanged.