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Little noises that twitter and ring in my ear, make me look at the lining that seperates the filter on own my cigarette and the white cigarette paper stuffed with tobacco, it will soon burn out and will be tipped off with one slight gesture of my fingers, maybe blown away by the wind and finally be mixed with the sands of time.
The filter (butt) however would remain with all the stain it stopped from entering my char filled lungs and be kicked and rolled around, there is a seperation that made this to be. Even while i was carried on this thought, the car tyres screeched and had to stop as the color ahead of me turned to RED, another car just passed and again there was a degree of seperation that I saw, which stopped me to pass ahead. Again it was for some good.
After that all that I looked at had a seperation it had. Some for measurement, rules, safety. One day I think it will be torned apart and we all will be able to swish past wihtout the S-E-P-E-R-A-T-I-O-N
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Something in the WaY
Knock knock.. just another day when my roomie knocks on my door and makes me to seperate from the dear sleep with whom I was involved in a rather romantic night. Just like any relationship.. we parted and my heart was not heavy, nor was my chest choking for breath.. One glimpse to the cute pic that she had first handed to me made me pass; from past to present in a jiffy of seconds.
My heart skipped a beat and I felt a lump of something which filled inside me, made me fall back on the already squeezed bed sheet. I could feel the stench filled in the room which was familiar with cigarette whiffs and the left over's from the day before.A squeeze on the already "raped" tooth paste tube blesses us with a drip of toothpaste which lazily lies onto the already over used tooth brush. The mirror smudged with water stains and balckened silver, shows my own reflection. My hazy vision tries and gets a glimpse of all my teeth to do that I have been doin from the time i could start chewing. Moving the hairy tool in wierd angles and filling my mouth with calcium aided foam, while another call to go sip on the opium of dawn rushed in. Rebin always has a shrill tone when he shouts. So i had to succumb.
The stairs seemed never ending as I pulled myself down it, trying to make my ear drums accustomed to the song ensuing as a result of the morning call from the T.V. Antony sat there crude in his very own expression. He always lived in a different world and this was the only time when his otherwise neatly combed hair could be seen out of its place. He was not interested in the liquid opium which accelerated our digestive system to remove the waste from our body. Any invite would be acknowledged with a big "no", which seemed more like
"Guys, get a life"
Rebin was already out and had unlocked his car and was trying to see if his hair was all in place, he dressed up as if he could go all the way to a party from there. I slid myself into the side seat, hearing Rebin react to our not so social neighbours. There were piles of work material that they had carefully strewn carelessly all around. We were the only people troubled by this, since the road ended right in front of the house we stayed. A fish monger sat in our path trying to add on to the already crowded area where Rebin tried hard to turn his car without any scratches. A twenty metre reverse drive and we were ready for our opium.
"Vikli the dog", looked at me with real emotional eyes. It had mixed feelings of helplessness, of a strange lost feeling, and another feeling which it always had, that of hunger. We ignored it as usual.
The liquid opium stall was like the stock markets, busy with homo sapiens at this time of the day. People trying hard to place their order, others trying to get on a conclusion on whether Sachin has to stop play or if the notorious Kerala external affairs minister's son should be arrested. A beggar roamed around the tea stall in hope of getting a crumb of "appam" or a free tea. An auto driver just rushed in with his loud acknowledgement to the person preparing the "hot tea". The man responds trying to juggle with his tea glass and the huge "tea kit". He nearly spills the hot water on the person standing next to him, who jumps off in time and gives a rather crude look at both the auto driver and the "tea man".
While I was in my chappals, puffing on a cigarette i had just bought,Rebin sipped on his hot tea and was giving his familiar chuckling laughter. He was feeling funny at the way a transport bus whiffed passed us with two heroes dangling on the footstep in a rather acrobatic but dangerous way. The heroes had a point there, they were just trying to satiate their testosterone, triggered by the gleeing college girls in the bus.
Sipping on my last drop of tea and squashing the cigarette butt, for a moment I felt like office really sucks. It was just that phase of a human being when he feels in one voice.. "education ruined me". Rebin's shout to get into the car brought me to reality that in half an hour i had a team meeting. Just then a school van passed us. A small girl in her neatly ironed shirt which was mostly covered by a neatly stitched pinaform looked right into my eyes and flashed a smile. It all happened in a few moments. Still she conveyed a lot. She let loose a world of happinness to me. She didnt advice me, nor did she say stories of an ivory tower with angels in it. Still i felt that within the moment my eye lashes blinked the whole world turned right around me. As i stepped into my car and saw Rebin adjusting his mirror to see if all his hair were intact, the same lump in me transformed to a jingle
Mixed with the horns and noise of the waking morn.. the jingle transformed into an anthem that rung loud in my ears .. "There is something beautiful about life.. Live it.. feel it.. meet it.. come what may love it "
My heart skipped a beat and I felt a lump of something which filled inside me, made me fall back on the already squeezed bed sheet. I could feel the stench filled in the room which was familiar with cigarette whiffs and the left over's from the day before.A squeeze on the already "raped" tooth paste tube blesses us with a drip of toothpaste which lazily lies onto the already over used tooth brush. The mirror smudged with water stains and balckened silver, shows my own reflection. My hazy vision tries and gets a glimpse of all my teeth to do that I have been doin from the time i could start chewing. Moving the hairy tool in wierd angles and filling my mouth with calcium aided foam, while another call to go sip on the opium of dawn rushed in. Rebin always has a shrill tone when he shouts. So i had to succumb.
The stairs seemed never ending as I pulled myself down it, trying to make my ear drums accustomed to the song ensuing as a result of the morning call from the T.V. Antony sat there crude in his very own expression. He always lived in a different world and this was the only time when his otherwise neatly combed hair could be seen out of its place. He was not interested in the liquid opium which accelerated our digestive system to remove the waste from our body. Any invite would be acknowledged with a big "no", which seemed more like
"Guys, get a life"
Rebin was already out and had unlocked his car and was trying to see if his hair was all in place, he dressed up as if he could go all the way to a party from there. I slid myself into the side seat, hearing Rebin react to our not so social neighbours. There were piles of work material that they had carefully strewn carelessly all around. We were the only people troubled by this, since the road ended right in front of the house we stayed. A fish monger sat in our path trying to add on to the already crowded area where Rebin tried hard to turn his car without any scratches. A twenty metre reverse drive and we were ready for our opium.
"Vikli the dog", looked at me with real emotional eyes. It had mixed feelings of helplessness, of a strange lost feeling, and another feeling which it always had, that of hunger. We ignored it as usual.
The liquid opium stall was like the stock markets, busy with homo sapiens at this time of the day. People trying hard to place their order, others trying to get on a conclusion on whether Sachin has to stop play or if the notorious Kerala external affairs minister's son should be arrested. A beggar roamed around the tea stall in hope of getting a crumb of "appam" or a free tea. An auto driver just rushed in with his loud acknowledgement to the person preparing the "hot tea". The man responds trying to juggle with his tea glass and the huge "tea kit". He nearly spills the hot water on the person standing next to him, who jumps off in time and gives a rather crude look at both the auto driver and the "tea man".
While I was in my chappals, puffing on a cigarette i had just bought,Rebin sipped on his hot tea and was giving his familiar chuckling laughter. He was feeling funny at the way a transport bus whiffed passed us with two heroes dangling on the footstep in a rather acrobatic but dangerous way. The heroes had a point there, they were just trying to satiate their testosterone, triggered by the gleeing college girls in the bus.
Sipping on my last drop of tea and squashing the cigarette butt, for a moment I felt like office really sucks. It was just that phase of a human being when he feels in one voice.. "education ruined me". Rebin's shout to get into the car brought me to reality that in half an hour i had a team meeting. Just then a school van passed us. A small girl in her neatly ironed shirt which was mostly covered by a neatly stitched pinaform looked right into my eyes and flashed a smile. It all happened in a few moments. Still she conveyed a lot. She let loose a world of happinness to me. She didnt advice me, nor did she say stories of an ivory tower with angels in it. Still i felt that within the moment my eye lashes blinked the whole world turned right around me. As i stepped into my car and saw Rebin adjusting his mirror to see if all his hair were intact, the same lump in me transformed to a jingle
Mixed with the horns and noise of the waking morn.. the jingle transformed into an anthem that rung loud in my ears .. "There is something beautiful about life.. Live it.. feel it.. meet it.. come what may love it "
Friday, August 21, 2009
None can replace
I miss u.. I miss u.. I could go on writing this a thousand times, but still the feeling wouldnt change. Every moment I could ever get to spend with you, will always be cherished, I say it or not. The pain is all in the memories, they linger not in my body but in soul.
I dont know If "soul" really exists, if it does, thats were you reside. My body has sinned and it has, but my soul has been tru always, and deep within it lingers.
I dont believe in a life after death, for me all that was here was given by you. I felt the happiness and the beauty of heaven when you were next to me. I also felt the heat and the ravages of hell when you faded into just memories...
I can with my confession, gota nothin that I know more. I dont know where to start and i do wish, you were here next to me, sometimes, just to flash a smile and answer my call, or share a tear,...
They say love brings tears, i dont believe that, for whether it was tears of joy or sadness that you have ever brought on my eyelashes, it has always felt magical. I dont know the day when I ll finally forget you. But I am sure your eyes are deep seated in me that i can run to you on every heart beat of mine ... that goes on and on.... just for you.. for I believe you ll be mine...
Forever and ever
Friday, August 7, 2009
Memory Remains
What I have feel, what I have known.. turn the pages of the dawn. Right as my legs rise from the sleep and the hangover of the day before.. my eyes half closed fight hard to be acuustomed to the world around me. The slanting sun rays are not troubling me yet.. Its just a gentle pat on my head.. I try and pull myself from the bed.. Something, felt like a strong thud koncks me back to the bed
My eyes slowly fade off for a jiffy of a second. I see it all, the very first moment, how I met her, the first smile, the first kiss, all and the last time i met her...
It all moves along my memories as if they were just some gush of wind that had caressed me as i was having a walk down the "toy road". I wake up form the feel i had and in my back ground from my already over used laptop a song plays shreekingly
" Its a new Day... Its a new beginning...."
Monday, June 22, 2009
Living on the Edge
Whats wrong with the world?? Thats a question popped again and again. Tell me what you think about the situation, admiration, complication. Seems there, are a lot of words that can be used with the popular "tion" and you feel good. I dont know whats wrong. Is it something wrong with our eyes. We see things with a difference, and to stress on, a lot of difference. Sometimes, i just feel I could go on and on on talking about life. I have lived my last twebty five years with this. Still a small kid pops up the question.... Whats life?
A pause and a further stress of my eyebrows is followed by a slur.. and then i may go on and on explaining to him what life is. Still he leaves or runs away not happy with the answer that I could provide. I bump into all type of people in my office.
Creed# 1: The serious looking kind. They have read it all, seen it all. They can talk on everything that seems to be appealing to a nerd. They do not know much about sports or movies, which soothes the souls of the ordinary kind.
They feel good talking about history and politics. I am not good in both, so most of the times its just a gape of awfullness, or a slow pause that ensues from within me
Creed #2: They dont look serious. They can talk it all. When the creed#1 comes up with something to talk, the creed#2 can respond, argue and add on. They make the cushion for the creed#1. They are aware of all things around, sports, movies,music, history or politics. They always use their hands more than their mouths. They feel maybe "action speak louder than words". Sometime's the creed#1 and creed#2 can form a quiet boring sight for the other's. Creed#1 always feels good when they get a response. They are the nerds and the creed #2 are the jerks
Creed#3: They belong to a different genre, altogther. They form the larger volume of the group. They look like mere statues when creed#1 and creed # 2 bla bla and bla. They may look interested but they whimp with suppressed ego and a lot of squashed inner respect. The creed#1 and creed #2 never bother for them. They pull in their conversations even when the creed#3 feels lost amid all that creed#1 and creed#2 calls, as conversations and others feel as mere jabbering.
Creed #4: They just dont bother. I would call them the cooler kind. They would be lost enjoying their moment to live. The days rolls in.. the heatbeats fast and they feel the youth in every moment. They feel good whatever be their surroundings.
A pause and a further stress of my eyebrows is followed by a slur.. and then i may go on and on explaining to him what life is. Still he leaves or runs away not happy with the answer that I could provide. I bump into all type of people in my office.
Creed# 1: The serious looking kind. They have read it all, seen it all. They can talk on everything that seems to be appealing to a nerd. They do not know much about sports or movies, which soothes the souls of the ordinary kind.
They feel good talking about history and politics. I am not good in both, so most of the times its just a gape of awfullness, or a slow pause that ensues from within me
Creed #2: They dont look serious. They can talk it all. When the creed#1 comes up with something to talk, the creed#2 can respond, argue and add on. They make the cushion for the creed#1. They are aware of all things around, sports, movies,music, history or politics. They always use their hands more than their mouths. They feel maybe "action speak louder than words". Sometime's the creed#1 and creed#2 can form a quiet boring sight for the other's. Creed#1 always feels good when they get a response. They are the nerds and the creed #2 are the jerks
Creed#3: They belong to a different genre, altogther. They form the larger volume of the group. They look like mere statues when creed#1 and creed # 2 bla bla and bla. They may look interested but they whimp with suppressed ego and a lot of squashed inner respect. The creed#1 and creed #2 never bother for them. They pull in their conversations even when the creed#3 feels lost amid all that creed#1 and creed#2 calls, as conversations and others feel as mere jabbering.
Creed #4: They just dont bother. I would call them the cooler kind. They would be lost enjoying their moment to live. The days rolls in.. the heatbeats fast and they feel the youth in every moment. They feel good whatever be their surroundings.
Friday, May 29, 2009
You Live what U dont
Mesmarising.. great.. awful.. sucks!!!
Life has all the adjectives that can go on with it. The race has the pace which is too fast, something tells us within ourselves, "we cant run the race". Its a rat race. I dont know why race has the simile used with rodents. I dont want to question the very thought that made up all this that it starts off in one day. Watch your time as the pendulum swings and you start counting the number of visitors for your death. It doesnt even matter how hard you try, sometimes its just a jiffy you take to make all fine. I tried so hard and gone so far but in the end it doesnt even matter. I had gone far to lose it all!!!
Sometimes i feel life is just another soap bublle thats gone in the next moment. Sometimes i feel its a chewing gum. You chew on it on and on and as it intermingles withthe saliva secreted by ourselves, the taste stays, then its sticky. You dispose it , you run away from it and still it is on and aorund sometimes sticking to your shoes, your clothes. You try to get rid of it, the more it stays close to you.Why i dono. Sometimes i feel its the music that is born from the frail frets of a bass guitar, sometimes i feel its as annoying and cumbersome as the strain on an electric huitar string.
Still i shout with all the voice i have that my chords can support that
" LIFE is GOOD"
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Emotional Atyachar
DEV D was a big hit. no questioning that. All the misery of breakups and the things that ensued portrayed in its raw form. I have had my break up too. Its more emotinal when the truth that there is no longer a voice which is going to pamper you on the other side of your mobile dawns right before you. Every song that you hear reminds you of moments spent with her. The more you try to divert ypurself away from her thoughts, the more she appears in every blink of your eye.
I never saw DEV D and resorted to drinking. In fact i drank to forget all that brought in the break ups. It was painful and addictive. Every action you did to get rid off all the pain within you drew you closer, that all the real beautiful things in life seemed meek and wasted. I felt I was a stranger to myself. Some sould in me pitied me, or was it the people around me. The genes in me kept me going. No one knew, for i never changed much in the way I carried myself; solitude killed me from toe to the last strand of my hair. "Fear of the dark" as maiden sang it long ago was gripping me. I was having fever that couldnt be cured. And the worst part was i knew it.It was killing me from inside.It was like cancer, the pain was slowly but strongly eating into me. This had no escape. I had to face the truth. I hold on to life till the last shred of the rope that puppets me in my life keeps me going.. till the last drop of blood in me is pumped to all over me.. and till my lungs breathes in the last whiff of air......
Thursday, January 15, 2009
The God I made For ME
I made him,.. I, born as the human being made him. He was made by me for me. I think about this, many a times. ITs written in the book of life that God made me and all the things around me. Its written a thousand years ago. Still it lingers within me somewhere doesnt it feel we made him for ourselves. To listne to our prayers, our complaints, our sorrows, very rarely our happiness.
We gave birth to him and the devil. From then humans had this biased feel for the right and the wrong. If there was a right, there ought to be a wrong too. So humans made the devil. Stories told of some place called hell and heaven. God sometimes i do feel I made you. Dont smite me for this o mighty smiter, coz still I have the fear in me which makes me feel that if what I say now turns out to be false I shall suffer in the fathoms of hell!!!!
split seconD of PassioN
The whiff of smoke is still caressing the innermost walls of my lungs. A meal comprising of rice and curry and a walk down the stair from the 6th floor with one of my colleagues, made me look at a carrying lady. She was looking tired and her face looked bare and blood drained. A million.. no maybe i am exagerating a ten thoughts rushed through my mind of the diffculty that god might have included in the installation of birth. I know not how many people might have really thought of the reality in the difficulty to give birth to a new born. The installation is simple, maybe just a few hours, but the acceptance of the licence agrrement is some 9 months of gruelling pain and sufferring. What lead everyone to this. Stop and think its a split second of passion.
The bitterness or the glory of creation is that it has a tinge of passsion to it. What people cover by the name lust,love, and even sex is always an ignission of passion, which lights up every creation of god or every being which evolved according to Charles Darwin. Let it be the pollination of the flowers when the flying bee's have their own share of honey before they help the flowers to pollinate or the animals who find love or the yearning of keeping their breed alive to ignite the shrapnel of passion.
So it all begins with passion. A strong feeling, a rather stronger emotion. This paves way to all the creation on Earth. How come the end copmes with a stronger emotion that many dont realize. The emotion of tears. No one leave the face of Earth without a tear being shed.
So if a woman carries a jumping embryo in her womb, I was wondering which proverb to write off before i end this blog
Let it be
"As you sow shall you reap" or "No pain no gain"
The bitterness or the glory of creation is that it has a tinge of passsion to it. What people cover by the name lust,love, and even sex is always an ignission of passion, which lights up every creation of god or every being which evolved according to Charles Darwin. Let it be the pollination of the flowers when the flying bee's have their own share of honey before they help the flowers to pollinate or the animals who find love or the yearning of keeping their breed alive to ignite the shrapnel of passion.
So it all begins with passion. A strong feeling, a rather stronger emotion. This paves way to all the creation on Earth. How come the end copmes with a stronger emotion that many dont realize. The emotion of tears. No one leave the face of Earth without a tear being shed.
So if a woman carries a jumping embryo in her womb, I was wondering which proverb to write off before i end this blog
Let it be
"As you sow shall you reap" or "No pain no gain"
Thursday, June 26, 2008
CHeee CHeee LeadERs
Chee Chee Leaders!!!
IPL was a huge success, Few would argue on this, so was everything that came along with it. The Franchises made money and the T.V ads cashed on the over breaks and the technical interruptions. Nothing was left wasted. Cricket was constricted to its last fiber to satiate all, with the juices that flowed. Cricket was involving just more than 22 men. It had the over whelming fans divided on the basis of region and their heroes. Franchises including the richest man in India to the most popular stars. Camera men struggled to get all the shots telecasted correct when the roar and noise of the crowd, intermingled with their own anticipation of the ball. Something else that caught the attention of the young and the old alike was the “Cheer girls”. From the first day of the IPL they were not left unnoticed. They had the glamour, the moves and the controversies that persuaded the media to quench their thirst.
Vijay Mallya brought in the best of the breed and though he couldn’t use much of them as his team failed in IPL, the situation had slipped into something were the cheer leaders gathered all the attention. The attention they gathered was more with controversies than with their glitz and glamour.
Our politicians have still not lost the “flame” in them. The flame of morality continues to cause palpitations in the loins of our politicians. Maharashtra’s deputy chief minister R.R. Patil, who drove Bombay’s bar dancers out of business, says the cheer girls employed at Twenty20 games and the skimpy clothes they wear are “obscene“. And typically for our politicians (remember Salman Rushdie’s Satanic Verses being banned on the basis of Syed Shahbuddin’s review of the book in India Today?), Patil’s threat of “action” comes without the minister examining the evidence.
“I was not present at the India-Australia match but we will go through the tapes before taking any action. I am told their performance was vulgar and their movements left nothing to the imagination,” Patil, who belongs to BCCI president Sharad Pawar’s Nationalist Congress Party leader, has been quoted by The Telegraph as saying.
Is it OK for cheer leaders to whip up excitement and keep the spirits up among spectators in a Twenty20 match, or is it not quite cricket? Are the hip-wiggling actions and jhatka-matka gyrations of the girls vulgar, or are they just a sign of the times? When the girls are not being forced to dance and prance around, does anybody have any business telling them what to do? Don’t our politicians have any better work to do, like say saving Maharashtra’s malnourished children? Or is protecting “Indian culture” from such transgressions more important than such mundane things?
The police may always be sleeping on the job, but the moral police are always on the job. Farmers are killing themselves in Vidarbha, inflation is soaring through the roof in Matunga, Maoism is penetrating Chandrapur, chauvinism is raging in Bombay… but the most important item on the agenda of Maharashtra’s politicians seems to be the “bulging breasts” and “gyrating bellies” of the cheer girls of the Indian Premier League.
Here is the truth that finds difficulty to bend its lip muscles to smile, the truth about our nation. The controversy was not just to IPL cheer leaders from Mumbai. There was more to add to the drama. There was racialism added in the most political way. After cricket these days cannot happen with controversies on racialism, and here it was
Two dark colored girls were asked to stay back from cheering for their team, though sources have it that they were hired for cheering, the irony is that Media found it difficult to frame the news here, more importantly to put the news in a politically correct manner.
Dark Skinned Girls? Talk about being politically correct. In the US the “two dark skinned girls” would be in a politically correct tone called “two African Americans”. So is the UK media going “two African Englishwomen”?
A while ago, there would have been nothing wrong if the statement read “two black girls”
But everything has to go correct politically these days. And I hope with the huge migration of Desis, one day - suppose two desi cheer girls are asked to sit out of a game because of their skin color, the media will report it as “Two tanned skinned girls”… oh wait that could mean anything. It could mean two white women who spent the last 24 hours of their life in a tanning salon.
Perhaps it would go politically correct like “two East Indian American girls”…
The argument continues here as to whether the girls were “cheer girls” or “chee chee” girls
Whatever, for the youth of the nation let the convulsions of their brain decide which is correct; At least we can hope that in the next generation we have a bunch of leaders who have more work to do, and believe in just the simple words “Live and let Live”
IPL was a huge success, Few would argue on this, so was everything that came along with it. The Franchises made money and the T.V ads cashed on the over breaks and the technical interruptions. Nothing was left wasted. Cricket was constricted to its last fiber to satiate all, with the juices that flowed. Cricket was involving just more than 22 men. It had the over whelming fans divided on the basis of region and their heroes. Franchises including the richest man in India to the most popular stars. Camera men struggled to get all the shots telecasted correct when the roar and noise of the crowd, intermingled with their own anticipation of the ball. Something else that caught the attention of the young and the old alike was the “Cheer girls”. From the first day of the IPL they were not left unnoticed. They had the glamour, the moves and the controversies that persuaded the media to quench their thirst.
Vijay Mallya brought in the best of the breed and though he couldn’t use much of them as his team failed in IPL, the situation had slipped into something were the cheer leaders gathered all the attention. The attention they gathered was more with controversies than with their glitz and glamour.
Our politicians have still not lost the “flame” in them. The flame of morality continues to cause palpitations in the loins of our politicians. Maharashtra’s deputy chief minister R.R. Patil, who drove Bombay’s bar dancers out of business, says the cheer girls employed at Twenty20 games and the skimpy clothes they wear are “obscene“. And typically for our politicians (remember Salman Rushdie’s Satanic Verses being banned on the basis of Syed Shahbuddin’s review of the book in India Today?), Patil’s threat of “action” comes without the minister examining the evidence.
“I was not present at the India-Australia match but we will go through the tapes before taking any action. I am told their performance was vulgar and their movements left nothing to the imagination,” Patil, who belongs to BCCI president Sharad Pawar’s Nationalist Congress Party leader, has been quoted by The Telegraph as saying.
Is it OK for cheer leaders to whip up excitement and keep the spirits up among spectators in a Twenty20 match, or is it not quite cricket? Are the hip-wiggling actions and jhatka-matka gyrations of the girls vulgar, or are they just a sign of the times? When the girls are not being forced to dance and prance around, does anybody have any business telling them what to do? Don’t our politicians have any better work to do, like say saving Maharashtra’s malnourished children? Or is protecting “Indian culture” from such transgressions more important than such mundane things?
The police may always be sleeping on the job, but the moral police are always on the job. Farmers are killing themselves in Vidarbha, inflation is soaring through the roof in Matunga, Maoism is penetrating Chandrapur, chauvinism is raging in Bombay… but the most important item on the agenda of Maharashtra’s politicians seems to be the “bulging breasts” and “gyrating bellies” of the cheer girls of the Indian Premier League.
Here is the truth that finds difficulty to bend its lip muscles to smile, the truth about our nation. The controversy was not just to IPL cheer leaders from Mumbai. There was more to add to the drama. There was racialism added in the most political way. After cricket these days cannot happen with controversies on racialism, and here it was
Two dark colored girls were asked to stay back from cheering for their team, though sources have it that they were hired for cheering, the irony is that Media found it difficult to frame the news here, more importantly to put the news in a politically correct manner.
Dark Skinned Girls? Talk about being politically correct. In the US the “two dark skinned girls” would be in a politically correct tone called “two African Americans”. So is the UK media going “two African Englishwomen”?
A while ago, there would have been nothing wrong if the statement read “two black girls”
But everything has to go correct politically these days. And I hope with the huge migration of Desis, one day - suppose two desi cheer girls are asked to sit out of a game because of their skin color, the media will report it as “Two tanned skinned girls”… oh wait that could mean anything. It could mean two white women who spent the last 24 hours of their life in a tanning salon.
Perhaps it would go politically correct like “two East Indian American girls”…
The argument continues here as to whether the girls were “cheer girls” or “chee chee” girls
Whatever, for the youth of the nation let the convulsions of their brain decide which is correct; At least we can hope that in the next generation we have a bunch of leaders who have more work to do, and believe in just the simple words “Live and let Live”
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