Friday, October 13, 2006

To be or not to be (Normal)

18 Augusts back, I was normally born, a 21st century Normal teen. I come from a Normal House, where the 21 st century Normal Mother ecstatically replays history's Lakshmibai. Nothing tender or sweet, you associate with femininity: the saccharine voice had died down with time, (owing to the sheer realization of its futility), the 32-all-out-bright smile had vanished with a somersault. But hers are flab and wrinkles, that fade with time; a face that grows fairer, hair that turns blacker.
The 21st century Father-of-2-Daughters has his Normal-High-Blood Pressure, and its Normal Crests and Troughs. His Gabbar-hormones churn up, when the Daughters' 'friend' over the telephone sounds too masculine, threatens to move out of the house if the Daughters don't study, (scared of the reverse); his nose is Abnormally Large.
The 21st century Normal Sister has 7 mobile sets.
Each has a name. Like pets.

Blissful Normalcy, indeed.

And, in a reasonably Normal Country, where 50% lie under the poverty line.
(50%, according to the government; 70%, in reality).

Where the other half, try MCQ-s in television programs.

And the Million Dollar Question goes: Why is Kolkata named the City of Joy?
Option a: The People (who live here) are always smiling even if they don't care to brush their teeth
Option b: The People (who named it) have a great sense of humour.

(In case you are SC/ST, or the son-of an MLA, you may "50-50" or phone-a-friend)

So moves time. With civilization traveling from Cave Age to Stone Age to Middle Age to Modern Age to Middle Age to Stone Age to Cave Age.
With new fashion statements. With Mallika Sherawat. With you. With me.
With everything being remade, remixed, renewed and Improved. Improved with a Capital 'I'.
With the Big-B as our New Gabbar. With King Khan as the new Don. With Sharatchandra being 'introduced' through Bollywood.
With alluring, enthralling extensions to more tear-jerking K-series.
With Macbeth as Maqbool, Othello as Omkara. With Normal people making a song and a dance: for the first-day-first-show, for the last-day-last-show.

With every 1 out of 5 songs (anywhere): a remix. And the 4 out of 5 'songs': barely having the 'singing'.

And, someday very soon, we may be dazzled with books remade ? Shakespeare with Sharatchandra and vice-versa?

So, more Hajmola factories. Still more Statements. More Himesh Reshamias yet to be born normally, in Normal hospitals.




Only a few days back, I remember giving my young cousin an inspirational speech on ' Mera Bharat Mahan'. Later that evening, when asked her aim in life, she said: an NRI (Non Resident Indian).

I wondered whether to slap her or to slap myself.

But then I thought it over: They say in our country, a single toilet is shared by a minimum of 7 heads. If every 1 out of 7 looks up to being an NRI, that becomes: 7 minus 1.
And 1 out of 7 faces, anywhere in Planet Earth, an Indian.
Majority rules. So Indians rule. I have no problem supporting Population Explosion.

But the Billion Dollar Question is: Who will finance The Education?
Option a: No-one. Ignorance is bliss.
Option b: The Then-Indian Government (Precisely, the World)

Lifeline: write-to-a-Graphiti.


So will move society. With 'Revolution' touching every corner of our City of Joy. And flyovers confidently sashaying over slums that go unnoticed.

With Bombay blasts, Jihaads and 9/11 incidents.
With you. With me. (You cursing me and me cursing you).

With 'Subho Bijoya' through SMS-es. With real people's virtual selves getting married over the net, by the click of a mouse. Life made easy.

Sometimes, I wonder where are we heading, anyway?
I asked my friends the above question. They told me to stop be:

1. Back-dated
2. Silly
3. Ridiculous

So I stopped being back-dated, silly and ridiculous.
But then there are days I cannot fit in. The offline world calls me. The October skies haunt me. Thoughts torment me. Memories slowly form faces and voices. Faces whose voices can't be recalled. Voices whose faces cant be recalled. Everything gets bleary, and then rings hollow.

I wonder why, in this 21st century Big World, 'you and I' never make a 'we'. Or, why it is absolutely imperative to change colours, just to gain a living. As to why we exist, just for the sake of it?
But then, it's just that one has to adapt and exist in a system to change it.
Unfortunately I am not an SC/ST. Unfortunately I am not the daughter-of an MLA. But I do believe that
even I can survive.
And I want to see many like me surviveā€¦
For there are still, the little bit of green grass and blue skies, the little bit of love and warmth, I believe, left somewhere, obscured behind the chimney-smokes and stern faces, respectively.