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Quiet Riot September 1, 2008

Posted by astralwicks in ageing, Blogging, city thoughts, Family, india, Life, Mumbai, Personal, Random, Writing.
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Am I becoming paranoid? Quote possible. Everywhere one reads there is some kind of unquiet. Currently there are riots in Orissa (Hindu vs Christian or Tribal). There is rioting in Jammu and Kashmir, we all know between whom. Everyday the rebels in the red corridor kill at least a dozen cops. One is not even considering the outrage experienced everyday after opening the days newspaper or switching some of the news channels. The current Indian tragedy being the flooding, no, rather the washing away of Bihar by Kosi river.

There is also a riot of another kind – in Bihar. Seeing those images transported me back to the glory days of Doordarshan, seeing the Army helicopters and planes dropping food. Not much has changed, they still drop food packets in the water, the villagers still run with all their might to collect the meager ration. Are the packets waterproofed?

Living in Bombay is exciting. More so if one is not a local. The people here display a strange kind of other-worldliness, almost bordering on saintliness, of not being perturbed by anything that’s happening around them. It is a most difficult state to achieve. It is one can say Nirvana. A couple of us friends seethe sometime in anger about the nonchalance of the local, smug in the salt of the sea and Bollywood razzmatazz. They feel and behave superior. It comes natural and I must admit, they pull it off, brilliantly.

Is it because of the time spent in the college corridors of Delhi I wonder? But Bomaby too has a university and they have as good, if not better access to all the mediums of communication and discourse. Bombay is not a country cousin. Maybe I have not studied here and therefore don’t know enough and the field that I am in only allows involvement with people you would describe – flaky. Who knows?

Old. Me is getting old. Simple. I am getting jittery. I want more assurances that everything will be all right. That all these bomb blasts and riots will soon be a thing of the past. That there is no chance of being ill-treated by an irate devout of the motherland because I was not born there. That not knowing Marathi is ok…the cops will still treat you equitably in case of an emergency. Forget the cops, the estate agent and your land-owner will just see you as another weakling and have sympathies.

Worried that the smart ones are smarter, dangerous. That they are not humble. That they are rude. Worried that I have to change myself to become competitive and valuable. Old me; new me; no me.

Soon I will be senile and unmanageable and technology will overtake me and the keyboard will be obsolete and I will not be able to see the invisible keys or think my words…for it will move in that direction. And Bombay will submerge and so will a whole lot of other parts and people will fight over the mountains and will I have enough money to buy the peak? Or rent one out.

Crazy.

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Comments»

1. myexpression - September 3, 2008

i’ll be dead before all that happens… i’ll look at the world from sky, through the fluffy cloud window; i’ll fly over the waters and mountain peaks…


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