Welcome to my country.
India.
Hindustan, if you are my right-winged fanatic brother waiting to confirm if I do not believe in your brand of GOD before cutting me to the ground.
Yindiyaa, if the millionaire south-indian actor who ages backwards, is to be believed.
Duniya ki daulat, if the buck-toothed tourist guide, with brochures in his hand and your money in his eyes is to be spared some time to ravage your ears.
Azad Bharat, if you listen closely to the sarcasm sounding off the pounding hearts of children born into factories and debts they can never hope to repay.
The country that also houses “Gowds hown cundry”…Don’t ask me how…please refer to the malayalee native folk dancer you see mouthing sweet nothings into your ears in the company of the “naadan patti” [common dog] in one of Africa’s savannah grasslands in one of the country’s latest adverse-tisement (read adverse enticement!)
The Oppressor country if you want to believe a particularly bifurcated state in the north (or is it tri-furcated now? I don’t know and care anymore. We were asked to draw it as a single state in our Political maps in school and that is how I want to remember it)
The Land of dreams, where a guy can aspire to become anything he wants to become, provided he manages to cross the road without getting killed by the rich kid trying out his brand new BMW in one of the rare non-pot-holed roads of a city that was built while the PWD was gone to get illegal labourer’s from another state for some more digging work.
The land that bears wealth in the form of Grains of Gold (if some old patriotic song that makes an appearance during Jan26 and Aug 15 every year is to be believed!) Of course, what the song does not mention is the rotting grains in government godowns when farmers in other parts are committing suicide for want of food to feed their families.
The Just land where the justice system starts functioning when the camera starts rolling and stops short of justice when the media film runs out.
The place where millions are spent by retarded fans for promoting a new movie of their favourite star, at the same time shrugging away from feeding their own families or eking out a livelihood of their own.
The land where people go to places of worship to ask the lord to lead them away from contempt, by bribing the security guard and the head priest.
The adopted home of The Gentleman’s Game. Makes you wonder if archaic laws and a confused, divided population were the only impediment to progress that the British left behind in our country. In the midst of all the religions that hold us in their grips we have the biggest addition to them all, Cricket Mania, the juggernaut that rolls over petty sports and makes a mockery of 4 years of training. Now bring out the swords and rip me into pieces for the ‘sacrilege’ I just committed in those lines there!
The land that erupts into joy when two pathans win us a game and also burns people bearing the same surnames into the pages of history when propaganda meets business needs.
The country, where you have more enthusiasm for creating new states than land for the poor or more ration for the starving.
The dysfunctional political family where seats are sold / auctioned off in a mockery of people’s choice, under the age-old guise of Democracy.
The hell-hole, where you can earn minimum wage before reaching minimum age.
And lastly, this is the country that has ME. Listening to Iron Maiden, updating my status in Facebook, ordering from Domino’s, thinking patriotic crap sitting in a closed room, too afraid or lazy to go out and spend time with family members or society.
Too busy proving to the world what a great potential winner I am while repeatedly failing myself and everyone who ever loved, cared or mattered to me. A round of applause, ladies and gentlemen, to the underdog making his mark here.
Whatever the name you give it…this is my country. And what a great example I am FOR and OF my country.
