Desicritics Category: Culture: Festivals

Cut Loose All The Flying Kites

Halima Khan — Fri, 5 Mar 2010 00:09:59 EST

Basant, a tradition in the sub-continent especially in the more Punjabi sectors has been under the wire for a while now. Every year when it is time for flowers to bloom and for spring to make its grand long awaited entrance unconsciously Basant is all everyone is thinking about. Many understand why the government deems it necessary to wage this war against the harmless kite, but everyone still wants it.

Raza Rumi in ‘Sad news: Kite-flying to stay banned’ on Lahore Nama gives a new enlightened feeling to this prevailing ban:

“Hope that this festival will come back to Lahore. We strongly protest against this policy decision. Pakistan cannot be made a safe haven for roaming terrorists and suicide bombers while the peaceful citizens are denied the opportunity to celebrate a festival that is so deeply a part of our culture.”

The News, daily newspaper in Pakistan, reports how the Police force is all set to make sure violation of this ban does not go unnoticed or unpunished. On the other hand Daily Times, another English daily in Pakistan, reports how 75% population of Punjab, the hub of basant celebrations, wants basant. But the government and the judiciary does not plan to give in to the consensus of the masses.

Basant Ban by Hamza Ahmed Qureshi reads:

“The hue and cry raised by a certain section of the society on the recent banning of Basant by the Lahore High Court compels me to bring forward my point of view.

These people mourn for the loss of a cultural event which attracted thousands of foreigners from all over the world. In the prevailing geopolitical situation, I hardly think that a bunch of colorful kites would be able to lure an already fear stricken foreigner to a death trap. Moreover this cultural loss might be a matter of concern for a handful of socialites and five star hotels but not for the common man.”

Sir, we can’t control this. “Then ban it” by Momekh does not have much reason to disagree with the general feeling when he blatantly states:

“The ban on basant is silly. Loss of life and loss of the ever-so-present WAPDA supply are not reasons at all. And here’s why: the loss of life is not because the kite-flying itself is dangerous. Kite-flying has been around for quite some time.”

However Momekh kindly goes on to explain a little on what made basant a controversial matter. Hence clarifying the real issue the authorities should be addressing instead of canceling an event so looked forward.

“The murderous streak now automatically tagged with basant itself, has been introduced through the development of stronger string. A lot of people think that it is the razor-like solution that the string is soaked in that causes the string to be a knife-on-the-loose. Although the sharpness is part of the reason, the main reason is that the string itself is very strong. There was a time, I remember, when I was able to snap the string by pulling on it with both hands. It is a typical way of checking a string’s strength – tug at it and see when it breaks. But recently, I would notice that it has become harder and harder to just ’snap’ the string. You would have to resort to either some serious pulling or just use to teeth to sever the string. It is the combination of ultra-strong string with razor-sharp solution (a.k.a. manja) that makes the string a killer.”

According to a local news source if the government set some rules and regulations which could be outlined for this cultural and traditional event just maybe entertainment could for once not be made a matter of conflict. However in the meanwhile the ban is very much there. The same news source maintained that DCO Lahore Sajjad Bhutta held that kite flying would not be permissible even at the Governor House. In conversation with media persons here on Friday, DCO Lahore said that government would ensure the ban on kites flying, if any one would violate the ban, government would take strict action against him and about Rs.100, 000/- would be fined for violators of ban.

Fiction: The Winning Point

IdeaSmith — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 07:35:34 EST

Vineet was an ordinary young man with one remarkable talent that came to fore only in his late teens in college. It all started with an inter-collegiate festival.

His college and the hosting campus had a long running feud and the annual festival was both, a new episode in the war as well as a chance for each batch to showcase its coming-of-age skills. When Anveeta, the cultural secretary had called for participants, he had been standing nearby, waiting for her to finish so he could leave the class. But she turned to him and snapped,

“Name?”

and his mind had gone on auto-pilot. Before he realized it, she had written it down and moved on to the next person. He didn’t even have time to tell her that he wasn’t into anything remotely cultural. Anyway, he wouldn’t have. Anveeta was not the kind of person one ever said no to. Not that she had ever asked him anything. Anveeta went with the power pack in college and he doubted that she’d recognize him on the road if they passed. Now that they had spoken, he realized that he would have agreed to anything she asked. Even though she had not really asked.

The festival had twenty-five events with about twelve colleges competing for the trophy. Each event awarded a point apiece for participation and more for clearing each level of the competition. The college with the highest total at the end of the festival would win the shining silver cup.

A bunch of 15-odd people were going to sing, dance, act, talk and strut down the stage for the various events. Vineet found himself herded in with the numbers to grab the participation points. These were the small runs, the ‘singles’ as his buddies on the cricket team called it. First to go were the accomplished artists into the music, elocution and art events. Next were the trained and rehearsed teams – the fashion show troupe, the debating team and the dramatics group. The sports teams had gone straight to the grounds and would catch up with them only at the end of the day.

That left four of them. One of them headed to the advertising contest, having set his sights on an internship at an ad agency that summer. The other two trouped off to the personality contest, more to ogle the participants of the opposite sex than anything else. They left Vineet standing in front of the schedule board.

What could he do? He ran his eye speculatively down the list some three times before he found an event right at the bottom. There were only 3 registrants so far and it sounded easy. So he signed up and walked towards the door he was directed to. To his dismay, it turned out to be a small sized auditorium rather than a classroom. What’s more, it was almost half full. Most of the students were using it as a resting point to lounge in the airconditioning, secure in the knowledge that the peons wouldn’t be able to evict anyone on this day of the festival when it wasn’t clear who was a visitor and who, a student.

It was too late to turn back since the co-ordinator who had registered his name was jostling him from the back. Too bad she was so pretty. She was the only girl to have even looked at him that day. So he took a deep breath and walked up to the raised podium and sat down with the other three participants.

It was two hours before he was able to escape from that room. Outside, his team was waiting, Anveeta hopping impatiently from foot to foot as she gave him an annoyed look.

“So how many points do we have so far?”

Each person spoke up their share while she added it to the tally. When the stars were done, she stopped listening and just starting counting off the remaining heads to allot 1 point each for participation.

“14…15…16…17…shit, we’re tying for third place. We’re never going to get there, dammit!”

“No, we’re at 24.”

Vineet ventured timidly

“Hmm?”

she paused in distraction and looked down at her tally again. He waited patiently while she recounted and turned back at him with a frown.

“The tally is correct.”

“No, you only counted 1 for me. I got 8.”

The rest of the group was listening now. Boldened a tad, Vineet raised his voice a notch but he was beaten by the captain’s low octave.

“That’s not possible. You’ve to cross all rounds and win to get that high.”

“Err, yes, I won.”

“What?”

She was looking dumbfounded now.

“Twist-a-tune.”

He heard the girl behind him whisper to her friend,

“What’s that?”

“It’s a music event. They give you two songs. You have to take the words of one and the tune of another and sing them without a break.”

Still dumbfounded. With a supreme act of bravado, Vineet opened his mouth and launched into an encore of his performance.

“Jaadoo teri nazar, khusbhoo tera badan”

It took everyone a few minutes before someone whispered,

“But that’s…that’s…Om Jai Jagadish Hare…the tune is that”

“Tu hain meri kiran”

finished Vineet.

He was rewarded not with applause but with a shriek from the captain herself.

“24 puts us in the lead!!!!”

“Excuse me”

said a voice at his elbow,

“You didn’t tell us your name.”

The pretty girl coordinator from the mini-auditorium was smiling back at him, pad in hand. Vineet grinned. Well, when she asked like that…

And that was the day Vineet went from being an extra participant to a winner.

Photo Essay: Moon Struck

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta — Sat, 13 Feb 2010 20:22:55 EST

I came back a bit earlier from work as I was not feeling well and on the way home from the tube station I happened to look up as it was quite bright. And it was a giant moon. Seriously large. After gaping at it, I raced home, grabbed the tripod and camera, went out into the green and started taking pictures. That moon was the biggest full moon of the year.

As usual, I tried to over-engineer the photo and tried to take a photo through the trees and failed miserably. So then I moved deeper into the green.

The moon was seriously bright, looked very nice. Never you mind that several neighbours were looking at me strangely and thinking that I am either a mad man or a perv or both. It was very cold.

Emerging from the clouds.

Then an interesting cloud formation came along. On the left, you could almost make out a head with a snout above the moon, with the lower jaw under the moon and on the left, you can see an open mouth. There is an elephant shaped head. Then in the right photograph, the moon becomes an eye. Ok, I think I am now imagining things.

Then a corona type of formation formed around the moon. I suspect it was due to some very light cloud.

Then there were no clouds at all. Very clear, giant lantern in the sky, old woman in the moon..

The whiskery clouds came back and you could actually see moonbeams…very strange, never saw anything like this before. I also managed to capture Mars. (see that little white dot on the left of the photo?) And no, its not a problem with your pc monitor getting a bad pixel.

Finally, you see the moon, the moonbeams, the clouds, and the warm welcoming houses surrounding the green. Can you see the regular shadows on the green itself? It's a buried World War II air raid shelter there, unfortunately it cannot be accessed. A WW2 bomb had fallen 100 meters behind the house on the far left..

Full slide show here with a bigger resolution.

The New Year Post

Kishore — Thu, 31 Dec 2009 00:21:31 EST

This is the customary cliché - The New Year post. The time of the year when newspapers would carry a full-page picture collage of all the disasters, earthquakes, bloodshed, tears, and a picture of an old man with white cane evolving into a baby in nappies jumping across the horizon to grab a rising sun that supposedly symbolizes the dawn of a new year.

Television channels would run the "best and worst of the year" stories and show file clippings of terrorist attacks, presidential elections and other such disasters, followed by ten second interviews with movie stars who dash their histrionic responses wishing the "viewers" a happy and wonderful New Year - May this year bring you all things that past year did not, and all that good stuff.

And then there is the thing about taking New Year resolutions, nonchalantly joking that resolutions are always meant to be broken, and still coming up with a bunch of them only to be instantly forgotten until the next New Year. Not to forget the clichéd New Year wishes - "May this new year bring you new heights, success, health, more cheer and a lot of happiness". (You really think I can get all of them, given that everybody in the world wants the same things on this day?).

It's interesting to realize, that every year always begins with the New Year and ends the day before the next one (sorry, bad joke). And every time, we hope the New Year brings all the good stuff unlike the previous year, and we end up hoping the same thing again the next New Year. At times, it seems the process of New Year wishing has become so mechanical that if you just stretch your hand out to someone on a New Year's eve and keep your mouth shut, you instantaneously get a "Wish you the same" as reply.

Well, years come and go. Some of them become those that you would look back with nostalgia, and some become the forgettable ones. And every time we secretly hope that this would be the big year when we would get all things we ever wanted, and everything goes just as we planned, and end up wishing for the same thing again the next year.

The most exciting and also the fearful facet of our living is the uncertainty about everything in life. And the biggest gift one can hope for is the ability to smile amid distress. So let this New Year teach you to smile, despite anything that life may throw your way.

And yes, May this New Year bring you new heights, success, health, more cheer and a lot of happiness.

poetry: long live god

temporal — Tue, 29 Dec 2009 04:33:18 EST

the world looks ahead to 2010
as karachi buries its dead in 2009
unleashed by the delusionistas
the flickering fury of the mob blinded
rolls over red lava - burning, killing, maiming
the seeing blind cannot see the tears
that will not stop with time
the sleep walkers seek imagined prizes
and the denialistas do what they do best
blame others, finally the lines have blurred
difficult to discern between husain and yazid
between the believers gods invoked to kill
between sheep and wolf, between me and me
husain is dead, long live husain
god is dead, long live god

***

i have a craving for a bagel with cream cheese
and moca java and tried hard as i did
stricken and sad, i could not shake it off
the plight of the father who lost his young ones
the mother's inaudible sighs without tears
others frantic in their search for news
---any news
perplexed, agitated, and saddened me
but did nothing to curb the craving...

Do Festivals Mean Anything Any More?

Manasa Pamaraju — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 11:27:09 EDT

I love the fact that I was born an Indian and the only country which has maximum number of festivals celebrated and moreover one gets holidays for them too. Festivals do make life very colourful and Diwali probably tops them all with Holi coming in second for me. There is a lot of hope, excitement and activity all around you. The definite thing is one misses this fervour when one is away from India. Diwali is never the same, even if we do celebrate it with other Indians in an Indian temple. I feel what we miss is the family and close friends more than the activities related with the festival.

After all, these festivals were an occasion for family gatherings and coming from a family that is quite obsessed with gatherings, I am one for get-togethers, especially on important festivals. But, other than this, a festival doesn't mean too much to me personally. Yes, there are some rituals and pujas to be performed. Diwali and Ganesh Chaturthi are probably the only two for which I do that; but what about all the others? I love decorating my house for Diwali and arranging the little pandal for Ganesh ji at home. But many other festivals have lost their prominence and relevance in today's modern setup, at least in the cities, with fast paced lives and hardly any time for others. I think that they are probably still prevalent in villages where life primarily revolves around agriculture.

This Diwali, I was in two minds. What with all the smoke that comes out of the firecrackers should I really be spending money on crackers and two what is Diwali without them. After all it is just one day in a year. All the pollution that the festivals cause makes my heart bleed. So do the extravagancies of Ganesh Chaturthi and Durga Puja and so on and so forth.

I feel that with the changing times, we should revamp the way in which the festivals are celebrated. Maintaining the essence of a festival is crucial for continuing our age old traditions and customs, but extravagance can be curbed in order to preserve our fast depleting ecology. For example, one can decorate the house for Diwali and light beautiful Diyas, but curbing on the extravagance of excessive fireworks would do us all a lot of good. Else, we will neither have a culture nor a planet for our future generations.

All said and done, I hope all of you had a great Diwali and wish you a lovely year ahead.

For God's Sake

KG — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 12:55:17 EDT

"I stood there in the sanctum sanctorum of gilded gold, surrounded by a throng of people feverish with piety and fervour. A gentle breeze wafted through the temple and the curtain flutters. A collective gasp rose - had it revealed its secret?"

Thirteen hours ago, I had reluctantly willed myself into a car to go to what is commonly considered one of the greatest pilgrimage sites in India. A place where they said dreams came true. A temple whose presiding deity is generous to a fault to his devotees.

Slight problem though - the religious thing really isn't my cup of tea.

I wasn't always like this. As a kid, one invariably follows one's family in matters of faith - in fact, I seem to remember (rather wistfully, I must admit) days when I had a set of some 12 Sanskrit prayers I'd religiously recite every day. Days when I even put flowers on the idols.

Even a highly embarrassing moment at the 'sacred' thread ceremony- a wardrobe malfunction in front of a whole lot of people didn't really deter me from assuming that somewhere in the skies lurked blessing.

Come to think of it - there isn't really a moment when I STOPPED believing. It was the idea of the thread that put me off. This ornament that supposedly set me apart from others felt too foreign- too unfair to my dreams of normalcy.

Yes, I wanted to be like everyone else- I didn't want to be unique.

Ah! The innocent stupidity of childhood!

"The breeze dies down. 250 people exhale. Then it begins. A low clang- growing steadily louder. At its zenith, the drums produce a deafening sound. Sanskrit chants accompany the drum beat. The entire thing blends into a symphony of sounds that cannot be separated from one another- a continum of words and beats."

Make no mistake, the idea of 'God' was hard to accept to begin with. All juvenile arguments about science and proof laid aside, it just didn't seem possible. Miracles, I put down to coincidence. Good marks I put down to hard work. Those who survived in hospital I put down to great doctors.

Never to Him.

But in times of need, somehow one has an automatic tendency to ask God for help, and that's wrong, said everyone - don't pray to God for help. Pray because you believe, and then ask him for what you want.

Fair enough.

But if He's omniscient, surely He already knows what I want? And because I've never offered propitiating sacrifices, never wholeheartedly lit the lamps, never really prayed - I don't mean recite shlokas - but actually prayed because I believed, admired the architecture in his temples more than him - He's not going to give a crap about me anyway!

Yet, it is strangely touching to see the hordes of people who unquestioningly believe. Who do not doubt. It must be wonderful to feel that way about something. Absolute faith is unnerving, but gives one peace - the feeling that some things are certain.

On the other hand that 'doubt'- that quizzically raised eyebrow when I see someone else worshipping an idol gives me a quiet satisfaction. That it's all on me. My ruin is in my own hands. People believe that praying to Him everyday keeps him happy- so that when they really want something, He'll grant it- is that piety or fear?

And so I've never felt right asking him for favours. Not in the most dire of situations. I have no business doing so.

"The drums go on. The people around continue chanting. A security guard grins sheepishly and scratches his unmentionables- familiarity does indeed breed contempt. The whole atmosphere- loud drums, the perfectly pitched Sanskrit chants, the bells, the breeze, the devotees swaying in unison- different people united for perhaps the only time in their lives- unknowingly stirs memories- why, only God knows..

Someone whispers- The time is close....

And then in a flash, the green curtains are drawn.

And out of nowhere- from some primeval recess of the mind, knowing full well that it is wrong to do so, I ask Him- whose existence I question- for something... "

!$#@*&^%$...

Vidyaarambham : Initiating Children to the World of Knowledge

Solilo — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 21:28:06 EDT

Vidyaarambham (Vidya : knowledge, aarambham : beginning) is a tradition followed by Keralites to introduce children into the world of letters. Towards the final days of Navratri, the 8 th day or ashtami is spent worshipping the goddess of knowledge and celebrated as Saraswati puja in Kerala. The day is also observed as Ayudha puja (ayudha : tools). On the evening of Durgashtami, many people offer their books to temples or keep books at home in front of Saraswati. It is called puja veypp (kept for puja). The next day is Mahanavmi and the 10 th day is observed as Vijayadashmi when early morning, books and tools are taken after puja. This ceremony is called puja edupp (taken after puja). After this, everyone writes on a tray of rice grains or sand as it is considered auspicious. The writing on rice grains symbolizes acquisition of knowledge that leads to prosperity.

Vijayadashmi is considered auspicious for knowledge initiation. The ceremony either takes place in temples or at home. Mostly the initiation is done by the oldest in the family or by parents of the child. Some people even prefer it by their gurus. On a tray of rice, the oldest in the family/ father or mother/teacher takes the child’s right index finger and writes the mantra ‘Om hari sree ganapataye namah’ (ഓം ഹരി ശ്രീ ഗണപതയേ നമഃ). This ceremony is done when the child is 2 or 3 years old and only after this a child starts to read and write.

This is nostalgic for me because 10 days of puja holidays were the most sought after while growing up. We had many Bengali friends so visiting puja pandals with them then our Saraswati puja and after that Vijayadashmi/Dussehra celebrations. This is the time when everyone in India is rejoicing. For us these rituals didn’t matter, what mattered were togetherness and the fun we had during those times. My brother and I eagerly waited for puja holidays mainly for those two days when we could keep our books and not study at all.

It is difficult to follow the tradition here but auspiciously this year Saraswati puja falls on a weekend (26 Sep) and Vijayadashmi on 28. So I am planning to do the same for Peanut this year. The other half and all his cousins got initiation from their grandfather. My brother and I got it from our father. I can vaguely remember the day my brother got his knowledge initiation. When Peanut was 1.5 years old, the other half and I initiated her vidyarambham here; on a plate of rice we made her write the mantra and then let her play with the rice. She still remembers it and looks forward to the day when she can write on a tray of rice.

Thunchathu Ramanujan Ezhuthachan is considered the father of Malayalam language. So on this auspicious day, many people arrive at Tunchan paramb, birthplace of Ezhuthachan, to take sand and use in the initiation of their children to the letters. Every year, hundreds of people bring their children to this place to write their first letters on the sand during the Vijayadasami festival.

Nowadays the tradition of knowledge initiation is followed by people of many faiths. According to this article since year 2003, the St. George’s Orthodox Syrian Cathedral at Palayam, Trivandrum too started following the tradition then followed by many Churches. The children in the Church write ‘Sree Yeshu Mishihaye Namaha’.

With time our traditions see vast transformation but tie that connects us never slackens.

“Saraswati Namastubhyam, Varade Kaamaroopini
Vidyaarambham Karishyaami, Siddhir Bhavatu Mey Sada”

Translation: O Saraswati! who grants all our desires, as I begin my studies, I bow to you to help me in making it rewarding and make me successful in all my efforts.

Satire: Super-califragilisticexpiali-stitious

Raj Jayaram — Wed, 9 Sep 2009 08:29:12 EDT

The members of the association of Progressive Indian Women (Bharatiya Unnatisheel Mahilayen a.k.a BUM) were livid with rage. They had just read this news item about young girls being made to plow the fields naked in a village in Bihar, because the villagers believed that this would embarrass the rain gods into making rain fall on their village (Yes, really). The President of BUM, a successful television personality, who had just reached agreement with her personal numerologist on the exact number of P’s that needed to be there in the name of her next TV show, tried to pacify the agitated group and said that she would demand thorough investigation into this gross abuse of women’s rights.

The President of BUM immediately picked up the phone and spoke to her good friend, the Editor of “Taaza Khabar”, the newspaper known for its hard-hitting features. “In this day and age, how can anyone do something so backward?” she fumed, twiddling, as she often did when she was agitated, with her ring studded with emeralds (her birthstone). She demanded that the Editor send someone to Bihar right away to look into this horrid episode. The Editor summoned his top investigative journalist, Remington Typewriterwala, and asked him to go forthwith to Bihar and come up with a detailed report on the incident. Having dispatched Remington on this important assignment, the Editor went back to proof-reading the horoscope section of his newspaper.

On reaching the village, Remington met the ‘mukhiya’ (or Chieftain) of the village and asked for more details on the incident. The mukhiya explained that this was done under the instructions of the ‘Guru’ of the village, the venerable Gai Baba, who made amazingly accurate predictions about the future by examining his cow, which was reputed to have magical powers. When Remington reached the abode of Gai Baba, the venerable guru took him to the shed where the magical cow was tethered. Baba lifted the tail of the cow and carefully examined its posterior, claiming that he could therein see the, er, hole truth. Baba explained to Remington that there was no mistaking the omens which clearly portended that rains would come only if the young girls plowed the fields naked. Those, he said, were the bare facts and invited Remington to take a look for himself if he did not believe it.

Not an expert at taking readings from the magical Holey Cow, Remington asked Baba if he was sure. Indignant at the prospect of having his predictions questioned, Baba dropped the dung he was patting into a cake, reached with both hands behind Remington’s ears, produced a ‘laddoo’ in each hand and started munching on one as he offered the other to Remington. Politely declining the offer, Remington then made his way to the local police station.

He asked the Inspector at the police station if he had taken any action against the people who had made the girls plow the fields naked. The Inspector said he was awaiting instructions from the Secretary to the Minister and asked Remington to speak to the Secretary, who was at the Government Guest House, near the village.

With unflagging determination, Remington made his way to the Guest House and asked the Secretary, who was sitting with another gentleman, about the incident. The Secretary said that they were waiting for a detailed report from the Bank Manager before they could decide on the appropriate course of action. Completely flabbergasted, Remington wanted to know what any Bank Manager would have to do with it. Condescendingly, the Secretary explained that it was not the Manager of any commercial bank whose report was awaited but the Manager of the Vote Bank. After considering all the niceties of caste, community, language and dialect, the Vote Bank Manager would recommend what action (if any) needed to be taken. The Minister would then announce his decision at the precise hour and minute decided by his family astrologer.

As Remington started walking away speechlessly from the Guest House, he was joined by the gentleman who was with the Secretary before Remington had arrived. The gentleman introduced himself as a legislator from the neighboring state of West Bengal. Remington discovered that the legislator was staying at the same lodge where he himself was put up and as they walked towards it, the visitor from Bengal explained how such a thing would never happen in his home state.

The visitor explained that the Communist Party, which rules West Bengal, operated on an entirely rational basis and would never hesitate to take stern action when required. He quoted the leader of his party who had said that Cuba was the ideal to be followed (Yes, really). If only they could have their way, he said that all these purveyors of superstition would be rounded up and sent to a concentration camp for re-education, where they would be made to abandon astrology and embrace Castro-logy.

They reached the lodge and saw that a Chinese gentleman dressed in flowing robes was waiting for the legislator from Bengal. The legislator introduced the foreigner to Remington as Mr. Loh Fatt Ghee, the world-renowned Feng Shui Master who was traveling with the legislator on a tour of India (on orders from Beijing, of course) and was also helping the legislator apply the principles of Feng Shui to his house in Kolkata.

At that point, Remington decided to drop his investigation into the Bihar incident and go back to the case he had been looking into earlier – the mysterious surge in the number of suicides among scientists.

Ekadantaya Dheemahi

maxdavinci — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 08:10:46 EDT

Bhaktas, This is Baba Bangali bringing you yet another spicy interview with my drinking buddy and fellow food lover Gunny Bops. He was here last year and has obliged to drop in this time as well. All is not well in the world and not much has improved since last year, new diseases, scandals and controversies have not made it a better place for you and for me and the entire human race. Last time around we spoke about pandals, corruption and all the commercialization surrounding the festival. This time however we're up wit some sensitive issues while still being our naughty self. Join me in a tete-a-tete with the guy who invented obstacle courses and is hence revered as the God of obstacles. It's time to put on the journalist hat as we discuss strange deaths of pop icons, airport haggles, controversial books and how man contracted fever from pigs. We managed to grab him last time as he was on his way back, and we've done the same time time as well.

BB: Oh Gunny Bops welcome to Dappan Koothu once again. Pray may I ask, why are you wearing a mask?

GB: Let's go easy on the name calling shall we Baba. Also with this pig fever in the air, mommy doesn't want me to take any chances.

BB: So the news has reached the whitehouse eh? Since when did you get petrified of diseases like us mortals?

GB: Just don't want to be taking any risks that's all. You humans don't spare even animals and then let their illness mutate with other viruses in the human body. What results in is global panic and epidemic alerts everywhere. Do you realize more people die due to illness, hunger, accidents and other calamities daily that his pig fever of yours has claimed in a month.

BB: Your smart wit and intelligence never fail to surprise me. I see you are one of those who like to make observations like these and smirk in delight on the weight of their comments assuming to be the first to discover the silly statistic. How about you go tell this to your buddy Indra so that the denizens of Indralok don't go running like headless chicken the next time some demon king launches an attack. As per your logic more people would have died in the impending war anyways so why panic and run amok! Indralok reminds me, how is our boy mai-ka-laal jaikishen doing, has he taught Indra's damsels the moonwalk yet?

GB: Ah the misunderstood genius, I hear he's been telling people of the ways they make him feel these days. You people may disagree but then like they say all things come in a package and his negatives seemed to outweigh his positives. But then he had overstayed his welcome and his legacy is unparalleled so let's just leave it there. What grabs my attention is that I hear your people are being ruffled up at airports, so now you know how it feels to be humiliated for logistics problems with transportation!

BB: Haha how nothing seems to get past you Gunny Bops, well it's true famed persons are getting frisked for their surnames. Why the concern you may ask, well you see we are so used to being treated royally since the ages of kings. It continues even today and the elite always get preferred service and breeze through checks and formalities. I guess we are ourselves responsible for putting them on a pedestal and worshiping like demi-gods.

GB: Well I can't complain can I! My entry every year is heralded with processions, flowers, chants and incense. Thereafter for a week to ten days, I am treated with utmost royalty and fed with the choicest sweets in pure desi ghee as thousands come to see me of course for their material gains. Its always a school/college admission, exam tension, office promotion or an impending wedding in the family. Ah they don't call me the remover of obstacles for nothing so I guess the business model works fine. I can possibly remove them all except animosity between warring nations. You people seem to be doing a darn good job at it though by singing praise to leaders on the other side of the border.

BB: Ah you cheeky pachyderm, never miss a chance to put me in a spot do you. Occupational hazard I guess, but there lies the irony. If you asked someone during the wars or the partition if someone would acknowledge the intent leave alone sing praise to a leader from the Land of the Pure, they'd tell you that the remotest chance of that happening would be when pigs flew. Since since pigs have very prevelantly been flying in your stronghold in Pune where the epicentre has been traced to, this was expected.

GB: Now don't you try to pull a fast one with your favorite past-time of connecting the dots, and drag me into this quagmire. You don't kill a man who's running toward a cliff and similarly when the party is on self-detonate mode, this just acts like a spark plug. With leaders defying authority and a mutiny amongst the ranks, wasn't such a thing on the cards? You talk of the right to speech, freedom of expression and all that junk that looks good on talk shows in news studios. What you need though you may disagree at first is a strong whip, a force that can reign you in and restore order to the ranks. A leader needs to rise that others can look upto with a cool demeanor and calm visage. Like they did in the west, but then its not easy to unearth an Obama overnight!

BB: Well said G-Money, for now lets just say that this swine, flu over a cuckoos nest! Until next year lets just drink to that...

(Image Courtesy: Swami Stream)