A Blog is about an author’s thoughts and his reader’s misery. A party where you are invited and you don’t have an option to detest it! Inviting you to one such party…
This thought ignited in reaction to a headline in today’s Times Of India – ‘UK celebrating India’s 60th year of Independence’. The Indian Foreign Office, as expected, is at its poetic best to thank Queen for this gesture. Oh idiots wake up! They are not celebrating India’s independence but the moment when they got rid of us.
‘Sir’ Rushdie might claim - “Midnight Children” is a fiction. Well that’s not the fact. My uncle wailed out of the womb moments after Nehru announced India’s tryst with destiny. He was the fourth successful output of the six overall attempts. Sweets on his berth did not have any reason. They were a mere ritual. But then, he was part of a greater plan.
Somebody conspired this, everybody executed it but nobody ever mentioned it. Captive for 700 years then, India in its many pieces was desperate to break out of the shackles and be free. In the last 200 years of British rule we found in them, the way, the reason and ample foolishness to execute our plan.
The seduction wasn’t our wealth, wine or woman. It was pure economics. To run industries, Brits needed raw material and imports from foreign lands were a costly affair. And sense would have told them, a land is ‘foreign’, till you own it. In India Brits found not only the raw stuff in abundance but also the resource that would convert them into finished goods – the human juggernaut that we were. We were hard working, intelligent but meek enough to suppress. We were sweating, Brits were saving and her highness was earning.
Overwhelmed by our tropical libido’s caliber the greed donned over them. Already dictating our production, Brits forced us as their market too. Indians were not to purchase anything that isn’t made by Brits. We were producing for them and they were selling to us at a higher price. And then happened Gandhi.
As wise he was, Gandhi did not trust the Indian made guns and swords to fight them. Instead he knew where to hit them. Below the belt! (For christ’s sake I meant pockets!). He devised an intelligent formula to kill… shun anything that’s produced by Brits, deny them the market, choke their warehouses, clog their factories, burden them with our weight and kill their hold over us. And they were killed.
So didn’t get the plan of which my Uncle was a part? Here it is… someone said, TO SCREW BRITS... KEEP SCREWING!
It’s just that my uncle was born after the demise of its need. Nevertheless he contributed towards its extension. Of his three children, one is settled in Boston, another in Munich and the last one in Malaysia. What makes the plan look more effective is, his nephew, who is situated to Southwest of his Munich son, decided to bore few more fellow Indians living with him.
He wrote this blog sitting in Gibraltar.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Friday, June 8, 2007
Its all about timing!
“Meetkv” – doesn’t ring a bell of any house, instrument or animal’s neck. It’s an ordinary, lost in the bites, e-age login ID. I made it and none met me. Its my net ego and has the same fate as my self ego. Its there everywhere, yet, no where. I realize, its all about timing.
It began long back when I was just KV. I lost the big school as my primary was not a recognized school. The batch before me was recognized and their looks told me that they have made it to Harvards. My parents felt it… its all about timing.
When math had just started getting tougher, in my brave attempt I scored 87. Walked with a swollen chest to my dad and returned with a sulking face. My elder bro was before me with 98 on his card. I could have still hit the ball with gusto had I realized that the comparison should have been with his 4th class marks and not 7th class. Just when Maths got tougher he made only 72. I screwed up my formula… but was too young to realize… its all about timing.
Just when the biggie one made it to engineering I was chasing a writer’s dream. Rest in the house were busy chasing it out of my mind. They wanted me to be what they couldn’t be. Had to take up commerce and study it too as I was expected not to disappoint the legacy of no failure in the family. Barely had I passed, they were ready to make me a banker. I rebelled, broke the traditions, jumped the house and became an ad guy. Was just standing on my feet, when the economy decided to sit and it sat on my fate. No one was interested to make ads. No one was interested to hire me. Desperation brought me to e-education to e-world to e-service and en-route was born my e-identity - meetkv. I thought here I am and I will let my e-ego do what I couldn’t do. When I looked at the bitestone I realized I am far behind and many have already made it to the zenith.
I was grown up and I had to pinch myself and tell “Bloody hell… its all about timing.”
It takes 95% of luck and 5% of fate to strike it right. I realized for the first one I am a bankrupt and there aren’t any credit cards for it. The second one is like a floating piece of wood from a sunken ship and I am just clinging to it. In mid-sea, on a wooden plank, waiting for rescue, you don’t have right or wrong time. You just have time.
It began long back when I was just KV. I lost the big school as my primary was not a recognized school. The batch before me was recognized and their looks told me that they have made it to Harvards. My parents felt it… its all about timing.
When math had just started getting tougher, in my brave attempt I scored 87. Walked with a swollen chest to my dad and returned with a sulking face. My elder bro was before me with 98 on his card. I could have still hit the ball with gusto had I realized that the comparison should have been with his 4th class marks and not 7th class. Just when Maths got tougher he made only 72. I screwed up my formula… but was too young to realize… its all about timing.
Just when the biggie one made it to engineering I was chasing a writer’s dream. Rest in the house were busy chasing it out of my mind. They wanted me to be what they couldn’t be. Had to take up commerce and study it too as I was expected not to disappoint the legacy of no failure in the family. Barely had I passed, they were ready to make me a banker. I rebelled, broke the traditions, jumped the house and became an ad guy. Was just standing on my feet, when the economy decided to sit and it sat on my fate. No one was interested to make ads. No one was interested to hire me. Desperation brought me to e-education to e-world to e-service and en-route was born my e-identity - meetkv. I thought here I am and I will let my e-ego do what I couldn’t do. When I looked at the bitestone I realized I am far behind and many have already made it to the zenith.
I was grown up and I had to pinch myself and tell “Bloody hell… its all about timing.”
It takes 95% of luck and 5% of fate to strike it right. I realized for the first one I am a bankrupt and there aren’t any credit cards for it. The second one is like a floating piece of wood from a sunken ship and I am just clinging to it. In mid-sea, on a wooden plank, waiting for rescue, you don’t have right or wrong time. You just have time.
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