High-flying Corona

Now the Corona scare penetrates deep in the countryside. The village saloon-keeper, a very nice friend of mine by the way, has a very adventurist brother. Just like anyone around might draw every ounce of capability and cunningness to fulfill the basic needs of life, he puts up every effort to board a flight to be away in a different country or region to, primarily, nurture a sense of being a businessman even if hypothetically, and, secondarily, to have a bit, o sorry a lot, of fun. So New York is no better than Timbuktu to him. Lo, here he lands up in the sleepy village from Bangkok. As most of we Indians are expert at, he does a roundabout to dodge the little trouble of staying isolated officially for 14 days, only to come across the bigger trouble of gifting cough and sneezing from the exotic land. So we the Indians will use all expertise of our calculating, cunning persona to avoid 14 Day quarantine, believing that it cannot happen to me, and then walk into a bigger quagmire, not just for ourselves but for many others also. We love sharing! Don’t we?

So here he moves around his family and mixes with his social circle in the village, drinking wine with his pals and telling tales of the latest adventure. By the time the healthcare workers arrived to take a stock of the situation, his brother, the saloon keeper, has shaved the chins of almost half of the village. The house has been put under quarantine. A paper nicely slapped over the nameplate as a sort of punishment. Their entire identity hijacked by the little piece of paper.

Now imprisoned with his huge joint family numbering into dozens, my friend, the saloon keeper, sounded even angry. “They just shout from the outside ‘How are you’ without coming inside,” he is furious. What does he expect? Does he expect them to come and embrace them? Well, I think he can keep his expectations a bit low till 14 days pass and the reports come. Till then all those who have visited his saloon are waiting like their own reports are to be released soon. People are no longer as dismissive of the pandemic like they sounded earlier when the scary reports from distant parts started arriving. This is a very tiny planet, you should remember!

During the fateful period, with me being ignorant of the gallant boy’s return from exciting Bangkok, I remember having gone for a long, long evening walk with my saloon-keeper friend. In the countryside, the child buddies share a special bond. We still prefer to walk with hands on each other’s shoulder, like two bulls yoked to pull a plough. It’s taken as a sign of real friendship. Now, like a sullen monkey, I rethink about the outdated signs and symbolisms of childhood countryside friendships. So the incident has spoiled my mood a bit. But then it has spoiled the temper of all those who had got themselves shaved at his saloon. So I am not alone in this mild scare.

I had thrashed him once during our childhood. ‘If you get Corona, I will thrash you again!’ I baulk at him over phone. ‘And if I don’t, then? he is on back foot, as if he has committed a crime. ‘Then you will be lucky to retain friendship. But no longer shoulder to shoulder child-buddy strolls anymore. We are graying middle-aged men now!’ I still appear aggrieved and in no mood to spare the poor fellow.

So the lockdown acquires exciting colors now. My hair has grown like a mendicant friar. ‘We will use a trimmer to give an amateur bald cut to each other,’ I propose to my younger brother. He has a glint of mischief and immediately aggrees. I smell the mischief in his eyes. Corona scare gives you extra sensitivity. ‘No, no you will run away before your turn comes up after making me funnily furrowed badie!’ I read his intentions very well. ‘So I will give you a bald cut first to avoid this,’ I propose. I am serious. ‘And what if you run away after giving me the funniest bald furrows on my head?’ he has an inkling of my mischief also. My Corona scared brain works out a solution for the emergency. ‘You have your trimmer, I have mine. We will call two people and ask them to start putting balding furrows at the stroke of zero second, like they start a 100 meter race with a bang.’ He has agreed to the suggestion. So during the lockdown at least the haircutting problem seems to have been resolved.

My mother had a special liking for this brown and white female street dog. She would even chase away other dogs to feed this backbencher, who stood meekly at the end of the group. The tradition has been kept alive by us to specially give chapattis to this one. Now the problem is that another dog of exactly same appearance has arrived on the scene and has enjoyed the perks and benefits of looking like our preferred dog. My niece appeared disturbed over this fact. The poor dog went empty stomached from our threshold a few times. It is very disturbing. With the Corona jolt, I seem to have turned very mean and scheming. ‘I will pour some black oil on the rascal’s smooth coat to demarcate it and spoil its camouflage!’ I am determined. See, what Corona does to even those who have grown up assuming themselves to be decent human beings. I hope by the end of the war against Corona, I may emerge a full rascal ready to take on the world.        

Love during the Corona War

With India locked up, and dirty boy Corona doing the rounds out there in the streets to catch any gallant humans outside, a new generation might be unleashed as bored, scared and desperate couples use their unspent energies through forgetting and forgiving dives into the pools of physical intimacy. Demographic statisticians must be waiting with bated breaths, scared with the added workload waiting in the wings, at the possible surge in the population growth curve. To the hell with Corona waging a war from the side of mortality! We Indians are the valiant foot soldiers of the goddess of fertility and procreation. With back-breaking fight for economic survival being suspended, we may go all out into procreation to tilt the scale in favor of creation against the forces of destruction. Idiotic Corona peeking through the windows will surely lose heart. The moaning moments of human creation will make it feel ashamed of its destructive potential. We have the onus of keeping creation ahead of destruction. An entire new generation will crop up, sired out of fear, boredom and desperation, the Corona time brats. They are sure to have congenital immunity against the deadly virus. The fight in the bedrooms will take two courses. The couples who have been waging wars against each other like the worst enemies on earth will fall into bed after calling a ceasefire. The best lovebirds, who have been the apple of each other’s eyes since decades or even moths, will fall down on the floor with an all out scratching of each other’s hair like wild cats fighting to save the universe. To disappoint master Corona, both these courses will have the same result, addition to the stock of Homosapiens, the Corona-resistant generation. So when the sun  will smile warmly again after the frigid night, and the air will be free of Corona scare, many a lady will have motherly compassionate smile on their lips as they walk a bit more carefully while rolling their hands softly on their elevated tummies. Look forward to better times, man! Keep Hope!

Calculate your equation of farting and planting trees

Every time you offend the modesty of the air around your ass, stealthily (as majority of us do) or unabashedly (like some of us do), both deriving sadistic pleasure in their silent and violent ways respectively, run to the nearest tree and hug it for it is a mute, uncomplaining spectator, a sort of sufferer but still diligently doing its duty of a purifier of our misdeeds. Right from our apparently innocuous farts to the Himalayan gas emissions by the airplane darts, we leave a trail of exhausts that leaves Mother Nature stunned. So don’t expect that It won’t grimace with irritation. Farting should remind you of your well esteemed primary status of being a pollutant. So hug the tree and say sorry. It may still be scared of you as you hug it, fearing a still more grotesque version of your blast, the blast of your ego and greed that manifests so often in mass slaying of trees. CHOP CHOP CHOP! So my dear little pollutant, plant more trees. One tree per fart will be asking for too much because you have to accomplish planet-taming endeavors also and still have to tame other planets in the solar system. But I think, one tree for 100 farts will absolve you of your crimes. You will carry better conscience also, I tell you. So fart more, dart more, but take the message of planting tree to every door!

A note of thanks to PM Modi

When you put money, and the rest of its resultant materialistic derivatives, above everything and anything else, and make it the axis of human existence, like Western countries have done since centuries, you get big economic statistics to give you a false sense of security. But does it bring joy, peace and harmony in its wake? It hardly does as you can surmise from the exponential growth of human sufferings alongside the economic growth. The irony is, monetary figures are mind creations, and are hardly effective in fighting against the consequences of the overblown money-making process. They create a smoke-screen of development and progress, turning us blind to the real plights. The causes stand hidden in the natural, biological cauldron. To succeed against the same, you have to prioritize human life over economy because humans make money not vice versa. So while Trump finds economic depression worse than the prospects of mass deaths due to Corona and hence is still spending much of his energies in creating economic solutions, PM Modi has humanistically abandoned all talks of moneymaking at this juncture. The unprecedented lockdown of the country is a proof of the eastern humanist values of putting human lives above money. This pause will make India a world leader, a shining example of being a progressive, kind and considerate society. We are a massive society. The challenge is unprecedented. But when your leader abandons all secondary priorities and spends sleepless nights to save lives, in plain and simple terms without any political and economic compulsions, the success is inevitable. Salutes PM Modi! This economically unthinkable—at least in Western terms—step of putting up a pause will reinvigorate India and make it healthy to an extent that the rest of the world will look towards it for inspiration in future. Thank you PM so much! It's an honor to have voted for you! It feels like my vote carries a value worth millions of dollars!

Holy Fire

I am the moth

and I love my flame!

My fire!

But I feel the burning core of

the glow around which

I helplessly circle around!

I know that I cannot stop

the fire from burning,

So I throw myself in a fiery pit

to forget my dear flame's burning plight!

I throw myself in a bigger fire

so that I forget myself

and my flame's cries!