Fifa World Cup 2014 – India

This is just a musing on what would happen if India hosted the Fifa World Cup though I think I have gone a bit too far in calling it in 2014. For a change, India qualifies. Yeah right... only because it acts as the host.

Opening Ceremony and Miscellaneous:

The opening ceremony which should start by 5:30 would start by 6 after a constant yapping in the studio by 3 people who can’t just shut up for a while.

The opening ceremony will boast of performances by A.R. Rahman, Deepika Padukone and other bollywood stars who just haven’t performed enough till now. Rahman might perform his “legendary” Jai Ho and be off with it. Then there will be a meaningless stage dance by Deepika/ Katrina Kaif which is of no relevance to the competition or one that portrays not one bit of the culture of India. Ultra creative.

The very little Culture left.

Thus all performances pertaining to our cultural dances which vary from state to state enough to entertain people for hours together and the cultural music of India which is just beyond count, is all forgotten. Then there are fireworks.

Ah! The fireworks!

There will be a sponsor blimp that is afloat till the tournament comes to an end though no one will have a clue why it is so. The camera will focus on it from time to time regardless of how irritating it is to people watching it on TV. And the commentators too, will keep ecstatically saying “There it is… the blimp!”

god... we all know it. It’s the friggin’ millionth time you’re saying it.

The Match:

The match will begin in the normal fashion that it is supposed to. Then do the stars make their appearances. Shah Rukh Khan will arrive on the premises and the camera instantly focuses on him. Shah Rukh (with his teeny tiny brains) will wave to the spectators with nil regard to who the heroes of the occasion are. We, kind (sometimes brainless) Indians, wave back.

Incase you didn’t guess who the heroes are, they are the players. Duh.

Everytime the ball is picked up by the Goalkeeper, in that tiny timeframe of 2 seconds, Maxmobile will advertise its products. Again, it’s one of the most frustrating things you experience when you’re watching Live Television.

Yeh mera Max mobile. Mera... Shut up you moron! you’re killing the game mood man.

The camera then focuses on the blimp and when it comes back, Italy is reduced to 10 men. TV watchers are clueless how it happened.

After the first half, there will be an interview of Katrina Kaif when she lies that she loves football and that she has been following it since her childhood. Pele and Maradona are her favorites. My 2 year old nephew can say those names. Please Katrina, go back to your stuffy caravan and also, learn to act, for a change.

And then the second half begins and finally the match ends. That’s about enough match coverage. Really.

The Team:

Oh yeah… I forgot… You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.

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Colors of the G Spectrum

India saw the advent of the G spectrum which is a good sign. Considering our tax money paid for the extra commission for the king as well is... ahem...

Here is the simple commission formula

For 2G

2X 100 Crores = 200 Crores = Commission

For 3G

3X 100 Crores = 300 Crores = Commission

For 4G

4X 100 Crores = 400 Crores = Commission

Where 2, 3, 4,... are Generations,

And the commission is an accumulated figure of a Swiss Bank account.

The general representation becomes

For GenerationG

GenerationX 100 Crores = Amount = Commission

You are brainy enough to guess the rest of it.

Now that’s what I call a GenerationX spectral series.

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Spit Happens

This happened on my recent visit to Chennai. And i'm kind of vouching that this happens only in India.

Yeah.. Like you've travelled to every other part of the world
Thanks Evil bugger... all the support I need!
And what's with the title?
For god's sake have some patience!
For all what's worth your rambling, i need a genie to grant me some
Again, thanks!
Go on!

Anyway, I got into an autorickshaw
Me: I want to go to the Lemon tree building, opposite the..
Driver: 250 Rupees saar..

Dude, I havent even told you the entire destination location yet!
It was like a kind of a reflex.

Me: opposite that police station, chetpet?
driver: Oh andhaandaya (roughly translated into "Oh, there!") , appo..mmm... 200 rupees saar..

Man! where do you have your account in? the Swiss bank?

As usual, like every other indian would do, i started bargaining and brought the fee down to 150. I know i've been cheated. Dont say it.

Evil twin: Ha ha ha! Not the first time bud
Me: I said! DON'T SAY IT!

I got into the autorickshaw and off we went.
Traffic Signal 1. The driver looked to his side and spit a huge blob of his saliva on the road...

Man! Yuck!

... and gave a reaction like he had escaped from alcatraz.

Frankly speaking, that reaction should have been given by that sorry spit that was fortunate enough to have escaped from his pan filled filthy factory producing stinky secrete.

Anyway.. i ignored what happened like I never saw it and like the other people on the road with a smirking face pretending nothing happened.

Signal 2. The guy looked down to his left and spit again.

Hello!? Don't you swallow your own saliva!? Is it poisonous? No? let me guess... Radioactive?

I thought the poor guy didnt know his way back and hence was making his mark so He could find his way back a'la Hercules Vs. Minotaur.

Now thats what I call a literal herculian comparison!

Ahh wait!.. I forgot to describe the post-action. Immediately after he spit, he took a cloth and cleaned his windshield.

Dude! You spit on the road! You ought to be cleaning not your windshield!

spitting, I guess, has become more of human secretion rather than a voluntary or a cult action.

Its not worth contemplating anyway...

Finally, i reached my destination. I took a couple of seconds before I could get down and you know why. I didnt want the driver's filthy sloppy projectile to have its bull's eye on my ankle. And yes, he spit and then I got down and paid him instead of paying him back. I paid him cash. The lumpsome he had robbed off me.

I was happy and walked cheerful towards work because all that could go wrong had already happened during my "delightful" journey.

Is that it!? Is that your post!? Oh genie! please grant me deaf ears instead of good patience!
I guess I made a point... ?
really? arrkkhh.. thooooo...
well... ahem... spit happens... I guess.

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Hare Ram!

The day was peaceful for the shepherd, for he had worries none. He thought nothing could go wrong. He gave a friendly pat to his donkey to run his mill, so he could produce something for the day. The donkey refused to budge. He tried asking her why. No answer. He cursed God.

The shepherd couldn’t help but think that God had other plans. But, he wouldn’t let that interfere. Thankful that he had a sense more than the herd, he lured the donkey to the park so the animal could have some fresh air grazing.

I’m smarter than you, ol’ donkey. Ha!

Having succeeded in his first act, the shepherd took out his beedi and smoked in peace till he saw a group of men approaching him. They were clad in white, had long hair that was more an oil repository and a forehead that had a dump of kumkum that a tanker in the near vicinity speeding at a 100km/hr would stop before a mile's measure.

What now?

Men: Oi! What are you doing here??
Shepherd: The usual. What’s your business in it?
Men: Whose donkey is that?
Shepherd (gleaming with pride): She’s mine.
Men: She, eh?

Yeah, wisecrack. Don’t you see the distinctive factor?

Men: What are you doing out here, Today?
Shepherd: What sort of a question is this? She was down, so I brought her here for a stroll.
Group head to other men: Heard that?
Group Head: Now, you are going to do as we say. Alright? We have the police with us, if you resist.

Seeing the group manhandling the donkey…

Shepherd: Leave her alone! What did she do!?
Head: Yeah, in a minute.

The man bent down near the donkey and caught hold of one of its legs and handed it a rakhi.

The shepherd cursed himself for cursing God. The Lord works in mysterious ways. He, now, found it difficult to identify which his donkey was, among the group. So he waited. In fact, prayed.

Hare Ram!

The donkey trampled the head hard so he would think more than twice to even take a piss, let alone do anything more. Then she looked at her master with fond eyes.

I’m braver than you, ol’ Man! Ha!

Having distinguished his donkey from the others by its portrayal of sensible courage, the shepherd rode the donkey home and gave her the rest of the day off. The head lay in the park with his clothing torn exposing the pink undergarment that he wore..

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Tears of Blood

1947. She was independent, strong, confident and made a difference. A difference the whole world marvelled at. She showed herself to be powerful yet a strong humanitarian. She followed rules that had peace at its very foundation and humanity built up on it. The people who freed her were proud of her. They walked with their heads held high. Then were born the sons. She cared for them and nurtured them well and wanted them to take up the mantle- to rule their brothers.

The sons then grew up and kicked their own mother's womb and cursed her so she gave birth to more and more sons endlessly. Those that were deformed in the brain, insane would grow up so even the deepest and darkest depths of hell would spit them out. Then She was put to sleep by her own sons and cursed to breed cruelty, insanity and wilderness throughout. Her womb became cold and filled with filth. Then came men of lust from other parts of the world who raped her while she cried out loud to her sons to save her while the sons stood beside counting their daily earnings and while their brothers of innocence stood helpless without a voice.

India stands naked infront of her own sons and their betrayal. Unable to protect herself. People appointed to guard the law are beating each other up with the aggression of a mad, raging bull with no regard to what they are guarding. People appointed to rule the country are busy swindling, laughing at its own fate while people of innocence are out there with their blood smeared all over turning the country red. Now she lays helpless and cursed to sleep and never to wake up again crying the tears of blood that flows like a crimson river while her sons still dream of the riches they can salvage and profiteer amidst the crisis with just a casual nod as a sign of sympathy.

" Sometimes I wonder... will God ever forgive us for what we've done to each other? Then I look around and I realize... God left this place a long time ago." *

* A quote from the movie Blood Diamond

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Amidst a Few Hours of Anarchy...

Note: This post does not contain any exaggerated information.

The day was presumed to be peaceful. It was a Sunday. Until, the day marked the arrival of a well known personality (I’m forced to call it one) in the city. According to me, it doesn’t have a name. Probably, one who is not to be named? I can’t say. But that’s close enough when in comparison with the characteristics of He who must not be named.

Needless to say, the support was massive. Crowds from all over the place and more came to catch a glimpse of it. The city was well lit and even at night, it felt like a sunny day. During other times, probably it’s the other way round. Everything was taken care of. Roads were well laid, etched out walls and parapets of flyovers painted. I guess Chandrayaan would have spotted more craters here than in the moon. Everything had been taken care of. What had been promised or was mandatory had been done. Finally. Though it’s only for a day.

And surprisingly the pace at which the work was carried out, just for the one that’s visiting, was astonishing. Speed breakers and craters vanished like a million termites were set on a log of wood.

The meet was scheduled at evening. As I told, people from all over had come down dressed in monotones. The city was facing a grave traffic chaos. Not that it’s different any other day. I’m just stressing that it was more pronounced on the Sunday. The brighter side of it, literally, was that the city did not suffer from a power shutdown.

Mobs had gathered and were enjoying the lust for alcohol and smoke. I’m not sure about the other sin. For an instance, the place took up the mantle of hell itself. I could see it and so can anyone. Buses and Lorries parked right in front of the houses without the least respect for the board “No parking in front of the gate” would lead anyone to presume that the rate of illiteracy has and is growing exponentially. Well, what am I thinking; the reason for the support is now obvious.

While the meet was drawing to an end, most of the people drunk and dancing. Shouting and swearing slogans against other castes and creed, the basic characteristics of human decorum was absent. A new race on the emergence. People were unable to walk a straight line. Some were down on the middle of the road like it was their cozy bed. And police protection for them.

Unable to endure it anymore, I went in and closed the door for fear of intrusion and assault. Monday. The city back to square one. No policemen on the streets, no one ways, no lights, no power, no speed limits. When I saw this, I knew there was at least one welcome change- It had left the city. For now.

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A Series of Misfortunate Events

Rainy season. The day drenched in the beauty of the rain and the night giving you the chill to make your blood freeze inside. The lush green (the meager amount left in this modern jungle) wearing the color of the deepest of its shade you can imagine.

Good things don’t last long. It’s both God’s and a politician’s plan with a difference only in the motive. The former’s is to avoid being insatiable and the latter’s the result of being insatiable. These feelings, the calmness inside lasted till I reached the flyover to reach another part of the city. I noticed the time. It was 10:35 a.m. The flyover measures roughly about 300 meters. Quite a short ride. After crossing the flyover I checked the time. It was 11:15 a.m.

Finishing my work, I went home at 12:30 p.m. I had the intention of watching a movie or listening to some music. I guess, man proposes and a politician disposes. There wasn’t power. Being idle can simulate a lot of thoughts. Tired from scaling the flyover like it was the gargantuan Himalayas itself; I began to ponder what took me so long to cross that one tiny stretch.

Well, what was I thinking? Of course Politicians are “brainy”. Well, let me first explain how the fly over is built. There is a main flyover for cars and other huge vehicles and a sub flyover (more a crawl under) for two wheelers. The fly over has been built in such a way that it also acts as a reservoir during the rainy season. Be amazed at the sheer planning of it! So, the armies of two wheelers that are likely to use the underground have two options.

1. Go scuba diving.
2. Choose the safer but ultra-crowded path.

It’s obvious which path they took for fear of sharks or probably the Lochness itself.

Enraged (who wouldn’t be?) and thoughts raging through anything it could scourge, I hypothesized a little pet theory.


I guess every responsible Indian citizen feels the same. That India is beyond salvation.

Now the time is around 4:00 p.m. Power is back. Am I happy? Hell Yeah! So I can get this thing penned and spread the joy.

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The Blind Eyes of Justice II : Punished for Sheltering

Summer time. Anyone walking on the road would be intimidated to enjoy the shelter under a tree to cool down one’s head from becoming a hot sizzling tava fit enough to make rotis. The following incident which begs for a proper explanation still, happened around three years back.

I always admired the area where I lived. Laden with trees on either side of the road, the place was perfect for a residential area. Every time I was on my way home, I’d enjoy the shelter provided by the old, wise giants on the road side by driving at a snail's pace. I wished the place wouldn’t change, ever.

In India, auto rickshaw stands are comfortably placed under the shade of age old trees that have at least witnessed the evolution of auto rickshaws in the country. As I said, summer time, the sun, hot enough to smelt your brains and make it ooze out through pores on your head. On my way home from after some work outside I saw a couple of auto drivers taking shelter peacefully under the tree that was willing enough to do just that. Thinking to myself whether the drivers were on duty or not, I reached home.

A couple of days later, after completing the same routine work I had, I was returning home. On the way, I was surprised to see the trees looking like support pillars for museum artifacts. I couldn’t fathom the reason for the urgency to slay trees like they were weeds. Intrigued, I approached an auto driver and asked him what the matter was.

He replied, "Saar, that is, see, we are wurking for 16 havars for one day. The drivers was resting under the tree in the afternoon. At that time wonly one bloody fool came for savaari*. Avar drivers, they refuse. He go and complain saar! So wonly saar, the corporation fellows come and cut the trees."

Mixed emotions. I didn’t know whether to laugh out loud or feel sad for the plight of the tree. Speechless, I just went home.

*savaari – A customer/ passenger to be served.

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The Road Not Taken

This title, as you might have guessed, gives you the picture of the beautiful poem by Robert Frost, doesn’t it? Well, in contrast, this post is neither a poem nor is it about describing beauty. Although, one similar point is that, both of us describe about the roads less preferred or in some cases, preferred not to be travelled at all.

Indian traffic can be considered as the legendary depiction of live chaos. The roads are a race track with a bad surface or something that is under construction for all eternity. “Pit Stops” or to plainly put, craters, are present throughout that can send a vehicle at a top speed toppling. I meant it literally.

About road rage, well, you don’t have to bother really. Dynamic road blocks which are oblivious even to cops like uncared animals, ignorant pedestrians busy yapping on their mobile phones, speed breakers with no luminous paints, buses that can stop anywhere on the road to pick up and drop travelers and vehicles parked in a no parking zone or sometimes close to the middle of the road ,payoff well. This is just a gist. There's more.

To talk about some heroes on the road, let me describe them first. Old school dressing, a cap and a pair of Dashing Coolers … in the late evenings when the bright sun goes off to shine on the west side of the world, only makes you pity them for their “wannabe” desperation. These heroes ride their bikes like the lightcycles of Tron ready to make a surprise 90 degree turn any second making you feel like a sorry bull rider taming his wild, insane, jumpy bull every time you apply your brakes all of a sudden.

Now from two wheelers to three wheelers. The path taken by these drivers are like that of an AC energy wave, inverted AC wave, pulsating DC energy wave, to name a few of their chaotic motions, in any random order. Like James Bond, Auto drivers have their license to irritate. The saying “appearances are deceptive” holds good here because, the drivers can look like real simpletons but in reality, these are the people that are actually connected*.

Time for the kings of the road. James Bond sans the style element with a license to kill gives us bus drivers. Their ride and their death knell behind you can make you wet your pants almost instantly. Their path is very simple. It’s straight, literally. Get in the way and you might not live to see another sunrise. The driver gets a few days off in the name of suspension and a meager charge as a fine for his “careless” driving while you’re busy having a conversation with St. Peter.

The signals’ only purpose is to entertain small children sitting snuggly inside cars who are enamored by the change of colors that makes them appreciate the creations of God. Normal people call it Traffic Signals. Bus drivers call it lame.

Now, where was the traffic police all this time?? Well, he is at the friendly neighborhood Nair Chai shop enjoying a hot cup of tea or is inside his cozy niche enjoying a nice cat nap...

*- Italian mob slang for being close to people in Power.

A schematic pattern of the traffic on Indian Roads (Click on the image for a larger view)

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The Rediscovery of Fire

Mankind has been dependent on electricity since the 18th century when Benjamin Franklin’s research on it unveiled its innumerable applications. Man has been consumed by its power that he let it rule the world. Now, almost nothing can run without electricity. Right, isn’t it? Wrong.

Welcome to Coimbatore, India. My hometown where people are desperately trying to discover an alternative. The reason? Coimbatore is experiencing rampant changes for the worst during recent times. Previously, the city would face a definite power shutdown once every three weeks for a twelve hour period. Now, power shutdown at the rate of more than eight hours a day has become a bit too much to handle. UPS sales have shot up to the sky. Probably 5 years back, owning a UPS was a luxury. After a couple of years, a necessity. Now compulsory.

The city faces this wrath unleashed everyday for a minimum of 8 hours and if need be, more, but never less, thus promoting social devolution to grow exponentially.

I’d like to admit that I’m no Nostradamus nor does it require one to be to predict the return of the Stone Age in this Modern Era. Behold!The Cave man cometh!

The Rediscovery of Fire (Click on the picture for a larger view)

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The God that Outsourced

Nothing is too extreme when it comes to politics. From A to Z, the rules in politics are ever changing or to put it point blank, there exists a rule none. Well, let us take a look at what Lord Shiva a.k.a The Destroyer had to say when he was accidentally spotted in disguise by a journalist near… well, I’m not willing to disclose the location as local pedestrians will crowd around the area, raise a shrine and turn a deaf a ear to the traffic thereby interrupting it.

Journalist: OMG! I can’t believe I’m looking at Shiva, oops, sorry, Lord Shiva!... In disguise…
Lord Shiva: It doesn’t matter; just call me by my name. I don’t want a crowd to gather around me and keep me here forever. I’m suffocating already. I guess my friend has gone on a creation spree. Must stop production. But before that, I need to wipe off some species off the planet to balance things for a while.
Journalist: Oh! wow! This news is making it to the gossips section in tomorrow’s paper. Well, may I ask how you intend to do that??
Lord Shiva: What!? I thought this news might make it to the headlines!
Journalist: I’m Sorry… I’m from The Times of India. The headline has already been reserved for the story of Aishwarya Rai falling off her bicycle during shooting. India needs to know what happened to her.
Lord Shiva: Oh, that lady. My good friend, the Creator, put some extra thought and effort while creating her and these lame people praise modern day costumes. Well, anything to not disclose our identities.
Journalist: hmmm... although, she did undergo a rather bad spell when she was with Salman. She turned up with a black eye at a party. You can't blame that on cosmetics...

Lord Shiva laughs.

Lord Shiva: You know, that was my work actually. In the name of karma? And Salman had been good that year. So, I played a little Santa.
Journalist: Nice! Well, anyway, you were saying something about wiping off a certain species…
Lord Shiva: yeah about that… I…

When Lord Shiva was about to start charting out his plans, the journalist gets an emergency call from her company. After attending the call, the journalist put on a ghastly look. And then…

Journalist: I didn’t know you were this fast!! You did all this while talking to me!? Amazing!
Shiva: Why? What happened??
Journalist: Modesty appreciated. An MP from the Samajwadi party sacrificed 200 goats and 4 buffaloes to ensure the trust vote in favor of the UPA government. To ensure victory. Well, I got to go cover this. And don’t forget to buy tomorrows paper. Last page, bottom right corner. Bye!

The journalist runs along. And Shiva slowly walked his way towards his next destination with a single thought lingering in his mind.

Lord Shiva: (thinking)… when the hell did I start outsourcing???

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