Took the metro from 34th St. Penn station to Jamaica; next up an airtrain to JFK and there I was on Terminal 4, Gate 2; Gate to my plane literally and a gate to my home metaphorically, which I was to enter after 2 long years of toilet paper and plastic money culture. I was as excited as Jaadu would have been to return to ‘Dhoop’land. Fastened my seat belt, felt the acceleration , a sudden tilt in body orientation and there I was, seeing the big apple becoming smaller and smaller with its perfectly shaped street system lit by sodium bulbs almost giving an impression of a gay geometry teacher’s workbook; perfect perpendicular lines, embellished in gold.
Fast forward 22 hours and I was right above the New York of India as it is so fondly called. It still looked like a gay geometry teacher’s workbook, only one who is 5 tequilas down or one who is high on cock. The place looks like a golden poop with the symmetry and organization of shape that can even make an amoeba proud. Twenty minutes later I found out that it even smelled like shit. Its not that these two years have made my nose more sensitive; it just widened my perspective.
Enter CSI airport and the place looks and smells like a railway station. The immigration staff is old and disgruntled, probably just hating you to return from a foreign country of which they’ve only seen passport stamps. I get to the carousel dodging hateful eyes one after the other, only to be greeted with power surges and non functioning air conditioners. Even a person with Zayed Khan’s IQ won’t believe that this is an international airport.
I get home on a prepaid taxi, where my luggage was tied like a dominatrix client and my door lock looser than an American college girl. After an hour of dusty air and shitty smells when I sit back on my couch and wrestle with the remote, it suddenly strikes me that standard of living is not really the biggest problem that India faces; it’s the standard of thinking that is.
Why should we become the superpower at all when media houses are shoving down nonsensical and puritanical thoughts down the deep throats of the empowered and independent women of this country all in the name of entertainment? I am a strong believer in influence of media on the progress of a generation and the way it stands now, I see the current generation nose-diving into an ocean of yellow, lumpy, smelly shit. What happened to the ‘Hip Hip Hurray’s and ‘Just Mohabbat’s which positively influenced children about friendship/love and not giving a course in sluttiness and ass-holiness. When did weather report of a sunny day become ‘Breaking News’? Is the current generation so fucked by life that it needs a senseless piece of crap like Dabangg to make it smile? Is their life so colorless and bland that it needs perverseness of Bigg Boss to make it a day? Is this generation so stupid that it is unaware of the repetitive storylines of soaps?
Just because Indian pockets are financed by the western world doesn’t make it the next superpower. All it makes us is an elite cock-sucking whore. At heart we are still a bureaucratic country which idolizes movie stars and cricketers, a country where marriage is still viewed as a union of two people of opposite sex and same caste, where for every wannabe ‘Raja’ there is a collection of cock-sucking, ass licking ‘Praja’, where opening 10 multiplexes in a square kilometer makes us feel modern and world class, where Obama dancing at a school makes us think of ourselves as a developed country.
We Indians need smaller egos and broader mindsets, we need to value creativity over donkey work, we need education that makes us think rather than mug, we need to cut the crap on “Indian Culture”, we need censorship on media for “indecent mental exposure” and “violation of mental sanity”, we need to break the shell of self conceited patriotism, we need leaders rather than rulers, we need some fucking change out here.
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Posts: 22
Reply #22 on : Mon January 10, 2011, 22:25:57