“I want to eat plain dosa, mom,” said the recently turned pale and lean eight-year-old boy struggling hard with his 103 degree fever. His words were like a relief to his similarly lean mom who was desperate to make her sick boy eat something.
Jumping immediately from her chair, which was kept very close to the sick boy, she took her wallet and rushed towards the nearest South Indian eatery. After all, her son was breaking his fast, no longer reluctant to eat anything.
While she had barely taken few steps away from her home, what she witnessed forced her to raise questions about the nature and existence of gods in India.
There was a huge crowd of people which was more than enough to block all the wide roads of South Delhi; music adequately loud to reach the pain threshold range of your ears but yet not earsplitting enough as to move the Indian authorities to take any action against the producers of this noise pollution.
As if this was not sufficient for the organisers of the tableau (jalsa), they had also hired uniformed band baja and baraat people along with their gadgets so that more decibels can be added to the sound pressure measurement for the evening.
And how can I not mention the big generators which were kept moving along with thousands of people to feed power into the high voltage lights and sound systems? But the other agenda of these portable electricity manufacturers was to add some more fumes into the Delhi air so that Delhi pollution keeps on getting its importance until next elections.
While moving towards the shop, which was barely a five-minute walking distance from her home, it took her not much time to understand that she herself was now a participant in the procession. Being Indian, she had become almost accustomed to such
religious rituals where gods are exhibited, dressed with colourful clothes, beautified with ornaments and weapons, worshipped with flowers, fed with sweets, bathed with milk, immersed in water and taken on roads like it was happening now.
There were different horse carts with different gods. One after the other, all gods came one by one. It was a perfect parade of gods. Though she knew names of almost every god, she was not sure if there were any newly added ones in the already long list. “What if there were some new names that I am not aware of? Would the gods forgive me for this sin?” she kept on thinking and then decided to ask for anticipatory forgiveness there and then as this was the best place to plead.
There were dozens of gods which made her believe that one or the other god would definitely grant her bail, I mean forgiveness.
Happy now to have successfully done her part, she tried to make some more room for herself in the crowd. Though on foot, she had to change many lanes, cross many barriers, smell all types of people and watch all type of fashion statements of women, men and kids who joined this procession. There seemed to be a clear-cut competition between the women of all age groups. From high-end dresses to cut style jewellery, there was no dearth of things which make women beautiful. I wonder why our film industry needs Rohit Bal.
It won’t be far when our RPCC blood is filled in bottles and conserved for future generations — who, if they display any lack of these traits — will be administered one or two bottles
After all, Achhe Din were here now. She was feeling more proud to be Indian now. And why shouldn’t she? Where else on this globe will you find people blocking all roads for ritual practices? And where else will you find people who love animals so much that they are ready to kill even humans?
“This year India must get the UN title for the Most Animal-Friendly Country,” she thought.
“No other country has so much of purity in religion, love for animals and respect for women. India must get some award.”
“And if even this year’s killings were not sufficient proof to show how much we love our holy cows then too there is no need to worry as we have dedicated religious political parties serving the purpose. One day or the other, they will match the required number of killings.
Wait! Haven’t we yet been nominated for the most Water Loving Country?
How can we not boast of being so water-friendly, that we can thrash others, kill or even throw bombs at hotels if anybody dares to get some portion of our holy waters…we need some pat on the back at least for this…” her reverie continued.
India is a land of diversified culture and religion; it has already been said and written several times. Religion, Politics (national, office and neighbourhood- all), Corruption and Cricket (RPCC) flow in equal proportion in our blood. It won’t be far when our RPCC blood is filled in bottles and conserved for future generation — who, if they display any lack of any of these traits — will be administered one or two bottles of RPCC. And these bottles will also create a lot of employment for the unemployed in the sector of corruption.
“Mamma, why you took so much time?”
“Beta, I was stuck in traffic jam. You know Delhi roads.”
“But you didn’t take the car. You went on foot. How come you were stuck in a jam?”
“Beta, it was a jam of gods. It’s different! Who knows these holy processions may wash city’s sins and Delhi becomes chikungunya and dengue-free.”
Yashica Jalhotra wonders what if her mother, the most god-friendly woman on this planet reads this column. She would spare no chance to deliver her a minimum two-hour-lecture to prove the importance of gods in our lives and how I would not be spared for the next seven lives if I immediately do not unpublish
this column. Reach her at [email protected]