Rant: the good days

We talk about development and about good days
and then there are sources
Bad, evil
who pull us back, back into the orthodox times
and thoughts so backward
yet they dare to preach it to the public
Stupidity is shot and sold in open markets
With hoardings showing fancy faces
and advertising plastic promises
And we talk about development
while disrespecting our own roots,
making judgments based on half-baked theories
coming straight from the corrupt minds
of Bad, evil
sinister ministers playing strip poker with us;
a game which we always lose
and get lost in the madhouse maze
of unsolvable paradoxes with bilateral answers
of which to believe, we are not sure enough
and while we think and send some of our brainy representatives
to put forward our say
on public debates where curtains fall
before a conclusive climax
which are held on expensive podiums
owned and run by
the Bad, evil
criminal minded shenanigans who broadcast filth in broad daylight
and have the audacity to hire defence lawyers
to justify their intended crime
and then some black coats are found,
just ‘black coats’ because there’s no human in there,
waving their participation into the missions
of hiding dark deeds in darker coats
making uncountable victims’ resilient tears collect
In the dusty, old and unread files
on a shelf of a slacker’s office
and censoring every quiet shriek of openness
and banning every bit of thoughtful art
which died in a want to yell the bitter truth
to an audience, oblivious of logic
and we talk about development
where people still need to be fed by a spoon
about the basic facts of being normal
providing a vulnerable, dirty habitat where
Rises the Bad, evil
which comes back again and again in different avatars
of demagogues, lecturing hate
of lawyers, advocating lies
of godmen (fraudmen), preaching terror
hurdling us, on our path towards the good days
pulling us back, back into the orthodox times
from where, we the junta
have been trying to free ourselves
by voting for the lesser corrupt
and they win, the prodigal hooligans
who vandalise every street with their dominion,
and spray cans
with which they paint every wall in dark bold letters:
RULES THE BAD, EVIL
giving out the idea of dystopia
and we fall for it
and we walk along with it
keeping an eye on the clock, waiting
with a few, quiet outcries
for the good days.

-Ashish

Be a Miracle worker

Hello Reader, 

It was the time when Anna Hazare’s Anti-corruption revolutionary act was in full throttle and majority of our countrymen seemed to be greatly inspired by the entire buzz going on, watching the new-age Satyagraha happening full-house in Delhi, live on their television screens, supported by superstars, activists and yoga gurus. The amazing part about such acts is that a lot of attention seeking pseudo-nationalists and politicians of the opposition parties, wanting to steal the thunder, start to join these campaigns and set a perfect example for us to realize and understand the Hindi proverb “behti Ganga mein haath dhona”. 

They never kept up with their pre-election campaign manifestos but were present, with their full energies, orating strongly written speeches, at any little gathering organized in support of Anna Hazare and his Anti-corruption Movement.  It was happening in every state and every small and big city. Conducted by either the local opposition parties or the vocal youth groups, these little campaigns, in support of the bigger cause, were happening everywhere.

It was happening in my hometown too. I was there at that time and I too had witnessed the sudden rise of patriotism in everybody. The local opposition party leaders set public stages for themselves where, using loudspeakers, they were telling people how if they would have voted for them, the state would have been free of corruption and would have made an exponential growth and blah-blah. At the same time, corruption was also in its good health. A private construction company was given a contract to build the sewerage system for the entire city, which till date is not in working condition.  And the people, resilient and helpless as always, accepted it and were happy with what was served to them. Nobody bothered to question the local politicians about all the money spent on constructing the sewerage system. People were too indulged in the twenty-four-seven media coverage of the Anti-corruption movement which pushed them into living in a delusional, dreamy Utopian society.

What was left behind, after all the heat chilled down, was the same old bad condition of roads, broken sewerage, unhygienic disposal of the city waste on barren lands and complaints of the citizens, unspoken to the deaf government.

Many Indian cities still have open drainage system which runs in front of every house in highly populated residential colonies. The waste water flow of these drains are often stuck due to the collection of polythene bags and other non-decomposing waste items which are contributed by nobody else but the same people residing in these populated colonies.

So, before complaining and blaming everything onto the government and municipal workers, one should make sure that they themselves are not involved in such wrong practices. At home level, it is every citizen’s duty to look forward that the waste produced at their residence every day is being disposed properly because, cleanliness begins at home. We all want our houses to be clean; ourselves to be clean and even our inner soul to be clean then why do we dirty the outsides?

Often it is seen that the garbage collected every day is thrown out, on open barren fields because there is scarcity of big common dustbins.in every street. Open drainage adds to the dirtiness and welcomes germs, mosquitoes, flies and diseases like Malaria, Diarrhea, Dengue etc. creating a totally unhygienic condition for living. Whenever someone wants to spit, spits. Where ever someone feels to pee, pees. They are habitual of doing it; for them it’s as casual as drinking water.And swags, spitting chewing gums, would kick a can of coke with their toes on the road and crush it with their canvas soles. And then someone would say “Eww! Who wants to live at such a dirty place? You must visit ‘Merica, dude.” But, the swags won’t find cheap labour there, unlike here, where they would dirty the city all day and then numbers of poor sweepers, rag pickers and janitors would have to clean up all the mess.In train travels too, passengers often leave behind used or unwanted stuff on their berths before leaving and also, throw crushed plastic disposables, packets and bottles under their berths or out of the window from the moving train. Hypocrites are everywhere; culprits everyone. Nobody would step up to make a change, to stop someone from littering freely or for at least not dirtying the place. Those who actually and truly stand up are very few in number for cleaning such a big country. We need more volunteers for this good cause. And today sounds like a good day to begin. Are you in?

Well, let’s see what we can do at a basic level.

  1. Stop blaming the administration. Let us begin the work. We are equally responsible for it. 

 2. If there is scarcity of big common dustbin, try to contribute among your neighbours and buy one for everyone’s common use. 

 3. Don’t litter and don’t let litter. 

 Thanks to my young cousin, Shashank, for this one

  4. If you can’t clean, don’t dirty either. 

  5. Disposing the garbage properly. Organic wastes (vegetable waste, paper etc.) and Inorganic wastes(plastic, metallic objects etc.) should be separately treated. 

So, Volunteers, I hope you follow these steps regularly and we can hope for a clean, Swachh Bharat very soon. A great inspiration for us which I would like to mention is a group named ‘The Ugly Indian’ which is a Bangalore based community started with an aim of making our country cleaner by methods of spot fixing, repairing and following the motto: Stop speaking, Start Working. Kaam Chaalu, Muh Band. And after this initiative, a wave was spread all over the country and various small teams came up to clean and spot-fix their surroundings.

See what miracles can happen if we all unite for cleaning our mess ourselves. Here are a few before and after photos which portray the change, the beautification of the places which were ugly. These have taken place all over the country. 

Courtesy: The Ugly Indian

Our Prime Minister Mr.Narendra Modi has already waved the green flag for the Swacch Bharat campaign which needs the participation of each and every person of this country. And now, the Olympic relay flame of bringing the much needed change has been taken over by Millennium’s Super Star Mr. Amitabh Bachchan, who is going to lead us for this nationwide campaign, in association with Dettol and NDTV. Banega #SwacchIndia. You must all participate.

I would like to sum up this post with a poem.

Here to a cleaner India. Swag स्वच्छ भारत, स्वतंत्र भारत।

Step up for this noble campaign,

Keep your surroundings neat and smugly

And don’t let anyone ask again,

How can you live in a city so ugly?

Don’t let the swags drain your brain,

Shun the red spits, ban the litterati

And don’t let anyone ask again,

Is that a contemporary graffiti?

Wait for none, Plant the grain,

It will grow into a United Dustbin

And don’t let anyone ask again,
Where should I throw the napkin?

Come on, Volunteer, let’s begin this chain

For a healthy, Cleaner India, less Cynical

And then, don’t let anyone ask again,

How is it like to witness a Miracle?

-Ashish

Thank you Indiblogger

Dettol and NDTV

for this promt.

Potholes of Soormapur

Citizens of Soormapur were resilient to the core. They would be satisfied and would get used to anything given to them. Anything. They were very adjustable. In fact, they were not purely Homo sapiens. They were Amphi sapiens. If Homo sapiens have problem with even the puny issues, which bothers them a little, they fight till it is changed. Amphi sapiens are special breeds. They are humans with characteristics like that of amphibians. Yes, they merely look like humans beings. They survive in any hell of a condition given to them. Like amphibians, they sustain living in both water and on earth.

Two weeks of continuous monsoon showers overfilled the blocked drains with joyous waters. They were now overflowing everywhere. And a large amount of that water intruded Mr. Filterwala’s low-lying house one night. Next morning he stepped out of his bed and placed his feet into his own private-bedroom-pool. Furiously, he burst out of his house and straightaway walked to the neighbor shopkeeper, Mr. Lazyani, whom he accused for blocking their common drainage by throwing his shop’s waste. But, Mr. Lazyani talked and understood only one language: Money. Mr. Filterwala and his family had a hard time filtering out all the water whole day.

On the other side, there were a few people who were enjoying this situation. Mrs. Greedita, along with her children was pestering her husband to buy the new low-budget car. Now, they had their own new boat.

Soon people started singing Anti-Megh-Malhar raagas to ward off the rains. And the monsoon finally retarded. The rains not only revealed the real face of the city’s sewerage system but also washed away the low-quality roads leaving behind more potholes.

“We want a new, better sewerage system”, a rare intelligent journalist published in a popular local newspaper. The article became viral and the citizens repeated this after him “We want a new, better sewerage system.”

“Sir, what will you do now? The people of Soormapur have suddenly become demanding”, the Big minister’s P.A. asked, curiously.

“I will give them want they want”, the Big minister said confidently.

The P.A. was surprised. “Are you on drugs, sir?”

“Not today. Do you not know? Elections are near and Soormapur is where votes rain for us.”

“Oh! Good gracious! And I thought your heart melted. Silly me.”

“Talk less and fix a meeting with the Fraudscam Constructions ASAP!”

The meeting took place successfully. The deal was sealed. Fraudscam Constructions were given the project to build the new sewerage system. After handling over the work to the company, the Big minister departed for a foreign trip to Singapore.

“Tell us something about your foreign trip, sir” the rare intelligent journalist asked.

“It’s basically a study tour. To study about their culture and ways and how we can amend our lifestyle. Our party wants to benefit our people.”

“Sir, what is the budget of the sewerage project?”

“Its 30 millions. More or less”

“And sir, what is the budget of your foreign trip”

“No comments” the Big minister ignored and flew.

Meanwhile, the construction work began. Or rather it was destruction. The chief engineer ordered “LET THE DIGGING BEGIN!”

The enthusiastic bulldozers and laborers started the drilling.

Within two days all the important roads of the city were dug and then there was a long pause.

A failed satellite landed on the roads of Soormapur and started sending images of the craters filled with water to the world famous space center JHASA. The scientists were happy as they had finally found ‘life’ in the outer space.

“When will you resume the work?” the rare intelligent journalist asked.

“We are waiting for the Big minister to return from his foreign trip and fund for the rest expenditures” the chief engineer of Fraudscam constructions explained.

“How much budget do you expect will be spent in this project?”

“60 million. More or less.” The chief engineer said confidently.

In another two weeks the minister returned. His P.A. welcomed him.

“How is the election campaigning going?” the Big minister asked.

“Absolutely fantastic, sir. Your sewerage system plan worked. Now people just need a promising new speech. I have already prepared one for you, sir.” He handed the speech to the Big minister.

“Hmm. I feel I have read this somewhere.”

“You are genius, sir. What a memory! It’s actually the same speech you read last year. Just that instead of ‘Happy Diwali citizens’ its ‘Merry Christmas citizens’.”

The stage was set for campaigning and the microphone was tested. “1… 2… 4… Check…1... 2… 4… check”. The front rows of the audience were booked for the sycophants, jobless college leaders and impecunious crowd who were promised free liquor. As the Big minister entered, he was welcomed with their colored cheering. “Hail the Big minister”, “Long Live the Big minister”.

He delivered a promising speech, telling people about the 100 millions that has been sanctioned for the development of the city and that the work is in fast progress. After his promising speech, he felt more confident that the people of Soormapur were now in his fist.

“Sir, digging of the roads is causing a lot of problems for the citizens. When will the work be finished? The people of Soormapur want to know,” the rare intelligent journalist enquired.

“You see, how busy I am with my campaigning as well. Multitasking is not easy. The work is in progress.”

He returned home and slept peacefully. He dreamed about swimming in a pool of currency that he would earn as per his next five-year plan.

Next morning was a nightmare for him. There was a group of people in front of his palace. They looked agitated and were in no mood to calm down.

“JUSTICE FOR MANGONATH”

“WE WANT SMART ROADS”

Fanatic crowd cried out.

“What is all this nonsense?” the Big minister asked his P.A.

“Sir, Last night a common man, Mr. Mangonath had an accident and he died on spot. They are protesting against the bad condition of roads.”

“What are you doing? Go get it stopped right now. All this is not good for our party’s reputation.”

“Yes, sir. I have already called the police to handle it. They will use tear gas and onions to ward the people off.”

Meanwhile, a social activist Ms. Ravenoushri declared a hunger strike and soon became a phenomenon on every news channel. The media people flocked around her house.

“I would not eat a grain of rice or drink a drop of water, until our demands are fulfilled.” She declared on the national television.

Watching this live on television a Bigger minister planned his next step. “I finally have a ground.” He said to his P.A. “Look at those mics and cameras. That’s where we’ll get publicity.”

Without wasting a second, he reached the activist’s house. With folded hands, he sat beside her and entered the camera’s frame.

“In my presence, no one shall be hungry. I can’t see this sacrifice. I will join her.”

Soon the headlines of every news channel changed.

“Sir, but what about the pizza we had ordered.” His P.A. whispered.

“Bring it to the bathroom, later.” He ordered.

People of Soormapur were soon diverted towards the new Bigger minister. He looked more promising and cultured when he recited Sanskrit Shlokas on the national TV.

He became a hero when he, with his own hands, broke the social activist’s hunger strike. Slowly the Bigger minister started his campaign too.

“I would have never used the Palm brand’s materials for construction. Before putting money into something, they should research about it first. I support the strong and powerful Lotus brand. Unlike the Big minister, I would have never let this happen to our Soormapur.”

People started loving their new leader. He was highly followed on the micro-blogging site Quitter by the young generation. The 55-year-old, young and dynamic leader was the new youth icon.

Summer had begun. The results were clear before the Election Day. The Bigger minister took over the Big minister’s chair. To gain people’s confidence, he started the construction of roads. Using the Lotus brand materials, they built thick concrete roads. Mr. Filterwala’s low-lying house was now even lower-lying.

“Sir, the new roads have covered all the holes that were dug for the sewerage system. Now how will the people tackle the Monsoons?” the rare intelligent journalist asked the Bigger minister.

“I have already sanctioned 200 million, more or less, for that. People will have no difficulties.”

Monsoon struck again.

Mr. Filterwala’s bedroom was pool again.

Mr. Lazyani chuckled.

Boats floated in Mrs. Greedita’s backyard.

Ms. Ravenoushri declared another hunger strike.

Only Mr. Mangonath could rest in peace.

***
Written under 'The Nine Flavors'
Flavor: Laughter (Hasya Rasa)

-Ashish

Poem: Musical Chair

My morning marathon begins in a crowded bus
to carve a niche, like the fellow-fanatic hoi-polloi, I rush
balancing on the footboard, showing my skills of equilibrium
I compete, dangling to the belt of optimism
Exhausting game of musical chair which, to play, I retreat
and for the fairer, antique and challenged, I give up my seat.

Somehow, I reach the venue of a bigger battle
to carve a niche, in the myriad of cattle
struggling to make a mark, sweating blood and ink
I compete, envisaging a yielding spring, without a blink
Discovering my chair been already labelled, I face deceit
and for the undeserved, majority and affluent, I give up my seat.

Now, I stand in a deep dark tunnel
to carve a niche, in the regal panel
advocating a better tomorrow, keeping my collar white
I compete, to the ones placed on self-made lofty pedestals, I fight
an unethical game of biased ballot, I taste defeat
and for the powerful, brown-nose and immoral, I give up my seat.

-Ashish

An open letter to the Indians with Mediocre Thinking

Dear Indians with mediocre-thinking,

This is neither a warning nor a hate letter. This is just a fact that every one of you must know. May be, you have been too busy in your lives to even think about this lately but it is never too late to learn.

It is always your thinking that makes the other person a culprit even if he/she is not. The kind of picture that is painted in your minds about today’s youth is totally wrong. Nobody has converted into a westernized person. We all celebrate every Indian festival and follow every Indian tradition as much as you do, in fact, with more enthusiasm. Yes, there are a few plugins that we love to adopt from the western culture but that should not make us criminals until and unless it is breaking any law. What the society or the religion says comes second.

What is wrong if a group of friends (guys and girls), all above 18 years, having a night out at one of their homes? Are we not allowed to have fun?
What is wrong if your son dating a girl (or a guy)? Isn't that natural?
What is wrong if a girl wants to wear something that she likes? Isn't this her wish?
What is wrong if an eligible guy or girl spends some time in a pub, drinking?

Wrong is when you do not let your children learn this. Wrong is when you give them a confused look when you catch them doing ‘something’. Wrong is when you forbid them to try out something good just because the society is against it. Wrong is when you treat the women in your house like servants. Wrong is when you bitch about the bachelor guy living next door for bringing his girlfriend to his house. How is that disturbing you in any way?

According to you, all this is cheap. You would probably be thinking how today’s youth is attracted more towards evil. No, this is how you think about us and you trust yourself too much. But unfortunately for you, you are not right.  May be you need to refresh your dirty minds.

Well, all this is not at all cheap or evil and is totally natural and in the limits. Giving this a bad name will only make it worse and people will be encapsulated in a mediocre mind-set. If not you, at least let your children have this freedom. All their life your children will be having a wrong impression of it otherwise and they will end up having sexually frustrated and dumb minds. It is only because of this kind of closed thinking why the number of rape cases and gender discrimination has increased so much.

And Stop being jealous just because you couldn't enjoy your youthful days with the kind of freedom that we have these days and give us some space in our lives. Comparing your time with ours is not fair. The time has now changed and the change is good. People now, have more open views about everything and are much more practical and rational thinkers. We know what is wrong and right for us. We know how to respect our elders and our traditions.

Have faith in us and respect us like we respect you. We will never bring any bad name to you. So, Chill out, hot heads.

Truly,
A youth’s voice.  

Poem: We are hungry

Hello Reader

1. Politician says...

We are not hungry,

but who denies the desserts?

Vote for our party,

you'll love our efforts.

We are all like a family,

helping our deceased, aged mother.

All we need is your blessings,

Big Brother,

pocket-full of currency

and a black leather blazer.

Forget our records,

why to dig the graves of the past?

We fell in the politics of blame game,

all the allegations were simply lame.

We follow the Mahatma,

we believe in patience.

We'll soon be better

than all other nations.

There will be smile, in every next door,

there will be no distress.

just be  with us till the end,

your work is in progress.

2. Common Man says...

We are hungry

but too lazy to cook.

For that we voted some faithful workers,

they all turned out to be crook.

We are resilient and helpless,

just like our deceased, aged mother.

You decide our fate,

Godfather,

we are like those amphibians,

we can sustain in any habitat,

First it were the outsiders,

Now it is you, leaders of our own race,

left us in a mode called disable.

All we can do

is discuss the nation's doom, at the tea table.

We wait for a hero to bring the change,

as doing such a task

is out of our range.

We follow the Mahatma,

we see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

We don't want our hands to be dirty,

or bring any kind of stain on our clean and white veil.

3. Activist says...

And we are hungry 

but for a national cause.

In a hope to change things

though they don’t care about our loss.

We’ll keep fighting

for our deceased, aged mother.

Instead of enduring your cruelty,

we’d die, rather.

We follow the Mahatma, 

we believe in truth.

If you greedy gluttons disagree, 

we’d enlighten the youth.

Every time we try; 

you make sure, we fail.

And before we could scratch, 

you don’t let us grow our nail.

Enough is enough.

It’s time to revisit the August revolution,

nobody can stop our flight to take off.

It is the only path, only solution,

to never let the lantern turn off.

-Ashish

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