(Fake) Pride and (Illogical) Prejudice….

This thing was bound to come up.

Considering that I’m in the heartland of the erstwhile Maratha Empire, and for all the constant bickering about the pride and honour of this region as well as the country in general as a precursor to the CWG ( I wont judge if you came to know about this acronym only because of a scandal and not the actual thing)…

Yesterday was India’s Independence Day. A national holiday for all and hence some time off for yourself. It all began very normal and very routine. Me getting up late. Going out for breakfast and on the way, the same old Hindi songs about 'deshbhakti' whose CDs are probably worn out because they are used only twice a year.

As I was having my morning tea, a general habit of observing people led me to deduce this.

Why are we even celebrating I Day? What is so special this day? Does playing these old songs stuck somewhere in your basement (or in your attic if you will) make this day special? Make you realize the true value of independence? Are we a complete Nation yet?

Maharashtrians hate Biharis and UP walas. Delhiites ( a self proclaimed term by all people living in a 200 Km radius around the India gate) hating Biharis,  South Indians hating Delhiites. Bengalis hating Maharashtrians, MP walas hating everyone around them. The North-eastern people not cared about in general and hating everyone else.

Hindus hating Muslims, Muslims hating Christians, Hindus hating Christians, Parsis again not cared about by anyone and leading a sedate life of their own. Sardars made fun of wherever they go. Brahmins hating the Marathas, Marathas hating the Dalits, the Dalits turning to Christianity so that they don’t have to face these vagaries of a Caste Violence. Shias hating Sunnis. Catholics and SDAs hating Protestants.

This is not all. The very people who made us independent are now dependent on the government for a Rs. 500 pension scheme every month for which they have to shell out Rs. 100 as a bribe. In worst cases, even these amounts are not dispensed and the ‘Freedom Fighters’ die a death no better than a street dog’s.  No one knows them, no one cares. His medal and his ‘Freedom Fighter’ I-card is used by his family to buy cheap Rations and Bus passes for the City buses.

And we have politicians claim that the national pride is at stake if the CWG is not held in a manner befitting an event of such stature. Such is the paradox.

People who have had the fortune go on a foreign trip face similar treatment, this time for their nationality. The Australian case is not a one-off thing. It happens everywhere. And yet these people who come back to their homes facing all this ridicule do this to fellow Indians?   Being the first hand victims of racism, these people come back and inflict the same thing on the lesser mortals.

These musings brought a very lopsided grin on my face. And yet just as any other day, I put out my cigarette, paid the Chai wala and left. It was only when I came to my room, a thought occurred that I atleast should let go of the Fake Pride and Illogical Prejudices which I’ve had. And I will try from now on to be a human being first, an Indian next and a Hindu if time permits.

PS- Yes, I too have my prejudices. These, however are mostly directed on my own caste and my own religion. I will probably never completely be able to let go of these, but to try nevertheless is in human nature. 

A Life Less Famous…

Sorry.

The delay can almost fully be attributed to a persistent disease called ‘lethargy’ which (if you know me well) has been a congenital condition with me.

A few days back as I went to the railway station to drop off one of my friends, I noticed a couple on the platform. Both were low income, both not very good to look at (considering the normally acceptable but highly variable tastes). The wife sat in a cross legged position which might be more familiar to Indians and the husband  was lying in her lap, with a towel beneath him so that his clothes wouldn’t be soiled. Amongst all the bustle at the station, this sight gave me a feeling of tranquility, of calm. The wife slowly caressing the husband’s hair and the husband apparently in a deep sleep. I didn’t know them and I think no one else at the station did. But it was like a sweet melody sung in a very low voice amidst this cacophony.

Cut to last Saturday, when I was at Ahmedabad and returning by the 5.30 pm bus. I had this beautiful scenery to look at of the village side. There was nothing but greenery around. Fields where everything from paddy to wheat to potatoes was sown. The village was just like any other. A pan shop at the corner, a bus stop where the state government buses came carrying and dropping off people from different parts of the world and the same filth which is characteristic of any Indian bus station (or a railway station for that matter). I was day (or was it evening?) dreaming instantly (without the help of the hyper electronic device now made famous by ‘Inception’) of my days at my granddad’s (mother’s side).

How people would live simple lives. Wake up early morning at go into the nearby forest to get wood for the house chulha, the train from Goa used to come at 8 am carrying fish which was sold at dirt cheap rates, how a small 4 feet x 4 feet screen sufficed as a movie theater for the entire village.

We living in cities, have become monsters in comparison to this. How desperately we try and crave attention when we go out- either by wearing flashy clothes or laughing out loud at the stupidest of jokes just because a hot chick is standing nearby looking elsewhere. How people as young as 10 participate in reality shows and mouth dialogues I could not even dream of when I was their age just to grab attention. How could talented people judge the voices of these little halflings. How we always want the most cozy, air conditioned and high leg room seat when we get tickets to a movie theatre and even if that’s not enough, people like James Cameron have made the biggest blockbusters by selling ridiculously expensive 3D experiences.

But then, I am reminded of a session which we had when we had freshly joined. The guy said “It is these complications that make life worth living. It is these desires that keep you going for more. It is these wants that you will go any lengths to satisfy. It is this confusion that you should revel in”

Inspite of this, every once in a while, however brief a time, whether it was a passing glance from a moving train or a view from the balcony on a day when there is a light drizzle, I dream of a hand which caresses my hair when I’m asleep, I dream of a day where I could afford a stroll through the forest and the field without worries, I dream of a life less famous.

PS- yeah I know..too many brackets... and also that this might just be another ranting of mine....