Sunday is fun day; yup, even for politicians (comments in parentheses are, of course, mine):
LK Advani says serial blasts in Mumbai locals are the worst terrorist activity in the country’s history.
(Just revealed: BJP will soon pen a top-10 terror activity list, with Babri demolition topping the charts — at zero)
Venkaiah Naidu is infuriated at lack of Z-category security for him in Bangalore
(Just revealed by my 2-yr-old nephew: Z stands for zoo)
Uddhav Thackeray says: “People have now realised they should have made Balasaheb the PM to deal with terrorism in tough manner.”
(Revealed by intelligence sources: Uddhav’s brain found in one of the blasted compartments in Matunga)
Gopinath Munde says: though all Muslims can’t be labelled terrorists, “it’s a fact that all terrorists behind the recent (Mumbai) attacks were Muslims”.
(Revealed by Munde’s brain: “I just dropped out of the fissure of his rear.” Meanwhile, intelligence duds put up housefool notice outside Munde’s house for more of the exclusive “fact”.)
Raj Thackeray says: despite getting info from Delhi before blasts Deshmukh govt was busier closing down dance bars.
(BUSTED! Sakhi Sawant was source of info from Delhi)
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Friday, July 14, 2006
Karan Johar's next blasted flick: Kabhi khushi, kabhi bum
First the terrorists killed and maimed Mumbai; dazed and fazed the rest.
First day, first blood over, the media told us they failed to either kill or hurt that indomitable Mumbai spirit (said in a thousand different ways, imagery, analyses reports (alias rotten poetry); more imagery, more analyses. And more nauseating poetry.
So far so good; only if you keep shut and overlook the oh-a-touch-hackneyed bit (come on, even stiff upped-lipped Brit broads went overboard after their London bombing; and loose upper-limbed tabs hurdled over even the overboard).
But now the media are on another spirited fatal spree — killing us softly with guile, dulling us softly.
The spirit has outlived its term, the imagery tugging at us from the depth of Mumbai’s bowels; the shoddy poetry has turned comatose, the rest of the mumbo-jumbo taking shape of media-injected reams of euthanasia.
So what, pray, is this spirit? Damned if we knew.
People on their way to work, undeterred, spirited reporters tell us with even more spirit from all corners of Mumbai. That’s the moral fibre, they insist.
Without taking anything away from the city and its citizens, that would be the case in all Indian cities — with or without blasts. Fatalistic to a fault, we Indians have turned stoicism into an art form, impassiveness our sixth sense.
With day-wagers forming the major part of our work force, absence from work means more than a cross and naught on the check-in register. It means a day’s pay gone; a helluva lot more than our enthusiastic, spirited reporters would bother to tell us.
Reason why there were more crowd in the second-class compartments of those same locals in which the telly reporters got bits and bytes from half-empty first-classes (if only the camera guys had zoomed out and given us a shot of the entire carriage…)
It may sound crass — tragedy has a way of dulling our senses, and that dullness increases proportionately with the toll — but it just might be all about class. Ergo, the empty first-classes; and the record number of private vehicles on roads the day after the blasts.
So what is that spirit? It’s the same as the one in you and me; and the same sepia-tinted one possessed by your father and mine. “We're the people — we go on”. As Steinbeck put it in Grapes of Wrath.
Don’t let the media bullshit you; the only extra spirit in Mumbai lie in its thousand-odd extra bars. The rest is media drivel to 'sell' stories.
First day, first blood over, the media told us they failed to either kill or hurt that indomitable Mumbai spirit (said in a thousand different ways, imagery, analyses reports (alias rotten poetry); more imagery, more analyses. And more nauseating poetry.
So far so good; only if you keep shut and overlook the oh-a-touch-hackneyed bit (come on, even stiff upped-lipped Brit broads went overboard after their London bombing; and loose upper-limbed tabs hurdled over even the overboard).
But now the media are on another spirited fatal spree — killing us softly with guile, dulling us softly.
The spirit has outlived its term, the imagery tugging at us from the depth of Mumbai’s bowels; the shoddy poetry has turned comatose, the rest of the mumbo-jumbo taking shape of media-injected reams of euthanasia.
So what, pray, is this spirit? Damned if we knew.
People on their way to work, undeterred, spirited reporters tell us with even more spirit from all corners of Mumbai. That’s the moral fibre, they insist.
Without taking anything away from the city and its citizens, that would be the case in all Indian cities — with or without blasts. Fatalistic to a fault, we Indians have turned stoicism into an art form, impassiveness our sixth sense.
With day-wagers forming the major part of our work force, absence from work means more than a cross and naught on the check-in register. It means a day’s pay gone; a helluva lot more than our enthusiastic, spirited reporters would bother to tell us.
Reason why there were more crowd in the second-class compartments of those same locals in which the telly reporters got bits and bytes from half-empty first-classes (if only the camera guys had zoomed out and given us a shot of the entire carriage…)
It may sound crass — tragedy has a way of dulling our senses, and that dullness increases proportionately with the toll — but it just might be all about class. Ergo, the empty first-classes; and the record number of private vehicles on roads the day after the blasts.
So what is that spirit? It’s the same as the one in you and me; and the same sepia-tinted one possessed by your father and mine. “We're the people — we go on”. As Steinbeck put it in Grapes of Wrath.
Don’t let the media bullshit you; the only extra spirit in Mumbai lie in its thousand-odd extra bars. The rest is media drivel to 'sell' stories.
Friday, July 07, 2006
india's amazing bull (dung) run: moooo
It never fails to amaze how the Indian English media -- aye, everyone, bar none -- never fail to enlighten us about the good run (bull run? iz dat a smart header?) of the Indian economy/economics/eco-now-don't-mix-politix. Sensex ride or crash? See ya on front page tomorrow. Laxmi Mittal's hopefully-seen-last-episode Dallas-esque saga? Lead, buddy lead; don't you try to kid.
It takes a bit, thus, to tell yourself that you are among the few fattened/fattening/already-fat cows (just you wait till you see the Subject's weight).
Here, Pankaj Mishra takes the bull 9and its ride) by the horns, in The NYT (good god, how could our half-stoned, forever closer to NY and moon op-ed walas fail to spot that 'un? or did poor, sloppy me fail to spot it?):
India? Mittal made his first investment here barely last year.
India? 127th on the UN Human Development index; and all the blah, blah, and more blah...
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/07/06/opinion/06mishra.html?ex=1152936000&en=e0f378e458b13f62&ei=5070
It takes a bit, thus, to tell yourself that you are among the few fattened/fattening/already-fat cows (just you wait till you see the Subject's weight).
Here, Pankaj Mishra takes the bull 9and its ride) by the horns, in The NYT (good god, how could our half-stoned, forever closer to NY and moon op-ed walas fail to spot that 'un? or did poor, sloppy me fail to spot it?):
India? Mittal made his first investment here barely last year.
India? 127th on the UN Human Development index; and all the blah, blah, and more blah...
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/07/06/opinion/06mishra.html?ex=1152936000&en=e0f378e458b13f62&ei=5070
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)