Every Independence Day I’m forced to hear rant after rant stating that we are not truly independent. Bullshit! Where else can you have a mass murderer stand for elections? Where else can you have a journalist who calls someone a mass murderer and gets accused of defamation? Where else can you have the country’s most popular actor – someone every kid looks up to – promoting an institution that’s testicle deep in horseshit? Where else can you have a child molesting and family destroying cop smiling after being released on bail? Where else can you view news footage of women beaten up by a group of men for holding hands while reporters inform us about how ghastly and uncouth the act is while their camera men did nothing? Where else can you have young politicians who wear clean clothes, live in sprawling homes, drive imported expensive cars and whine about how their people are deprived of jobs, about how the local language is not given preference while their own children study in expensive schools and choose foreign languages over their local language? Where else can you have immigrants from UP spreading malaria? First they steal the jobs of people now they are stealing the jobs of mosquitoes? Where else can you find this? If we had a little more freedom, everyone would be butt naked running around without repercussion. We are truly free.
Despite all this freedom I’m still forced to hear cry babies whining. I want these nuisances locked up. I want them thrown into mental asylums. They ruin every freaking Independence Day. Those fuckers! All I wanted to do was wake up, hoist the flag, salute it, sing the national anthem and listen to some patriotic songs. Maybe even accidentally trample over a paper national flag. But that was not good enough. They had to tell me what’s wrong with everything. They had to remind me of the potholes as if my deformed buttocks didn’t give me enough evidence. They had to point out how disgusting it’s to see people pissing on the streets. I maybe weird but I don’t want to see people pissing on the streets. And if I’m pissing I don’t want people pointing. It’s embarrassing enough already and you’ve someone pointing to make matters worse.
And they kept talking. They had to remind me of everything. They had to tell me that we’ve not achieved anything despite 63 years of independence (or 64. I’m not sure. I lost count). It’s not my fault. I blame our freedom fighters. India didn’t have any good freedom fighters. If we did maybe we would have achieved Independence earlier. With 100 years in our pocket we could have done something better.
But we didn’t get freedom early. Why? We had people like Bhagat Singh. What is the point in dying for the freedom? What use is freedom when you are dead? A safe funeral procession is not enticing. I’d rather be alive. What’s the point of dying for others? Maybe somebody would have written an article about me if I would have. Then we had Nehru - a children loving guy who wears a hat and was armed with a rose. Wow! Intimidating. Show me a boat please, so that I can safely move to another continent before he chokes me with the sweet fragrance of his rose. Also, Nehru smoked and we know how smokers are despicable members of society. And Gandhi! Oh! he deserves a whole article. I blame them. If it wasn’t for their selfless sacrifices I would not have to hear retards ranting about the second most populated disaster of a country.
I hate them all. But I hate Pooja the most.
Oh! I’m Pooja and I got a tattoo! Everyone look at me! Look at how she's condescendingly asking everyone "Got a tattoo?" in the first picture. Laughing at everyone. Not a care in the world! She just goes around getting tattoos, takes pictures of them, uploads them and shares it with everyone. Check out my new tattoo? No, I won’t. Tell everyone? Why? I don’t think I’ve hated anyone this much.