“Divergent Squint Ideology” The Sinister web that creeps on you undiscovered!

One planet, one earth that we all exist on is a myth. There are billions of worlds, every man has his own, that Kaleidoscope is on avail, you pick your own hue for those glasses to peep through. Your world is defined by the colour of the glasses that you put on or perhaps forced upon you by your surroundings without you even noticing it and that my friend, is indoctrination, that’s ideology being brewed everyday for the naive to sip on.

A dog is a dog to the child with the mind not perverted yet, a dog has a breed, it’s stray, mongrel or pedigree to the indoctrinated and he wouldn’t accept a mongrel, that apartheid has been infused in our everyday being.

And then, you after all are not ‘you’ that’s just what your environment has made you, your religion, your clan, values, regimen……….your ideology, yeah that’s ideology and it defines the ‘you’ that meets my eye. That ‘you’ has been constructed and you won’t even figure that you are being molded, woven, rolled, shaped into what you would be for most of your life.

What’s a man without a belief? Its just the perspective or else human kind is just a herd  feeding, breeding and dying alike. your perspective is your identity, your identity is shaped and manipulated, Catch his belief and the man follows! Alas! the innocuous wouldn’t know. Perspective it is and then it is maneuvered  in good, bad, ugly, nauseating, obnoxious and even sinister way. That perspective is enough to seal the fate of civilizations, always had, always will. That perspective, my friends is a steroid, you get hooked on to it and you never hear it knocking, be watchful with it. That can make or break you, your clan, the flags, the banner you stand for.

These days i feel like naming every year, the year by its mood, its prevalence, its lionization and all i end up naming all these recent years is ” THE YEAR OF THE COOL SCHMUCK” every recent year has belonged to the “bearded, wasted, hemp vaping suicidal cretin” and the youth has consistently been manipulated to the “DIVERGENT SQUINT IDEOLOGY“. And……boy, thats sinister, way too sinister to flirt with.

The love for the nation was never out of fashion, was it? well, never heard that as i grew up! those days, people were simpler, straight thinking, straight seeing commoners with less comforts and a bellyful of paucity and limitations to live with yet, that man never felt drowned by the nationalist emotions, that was never suffocating for him, never and that all because that ‘divergent squint perception’ was absent. Now, we have a generation of overfed couch potatoes, living in comforts who develop a lower back pain as they are asked to stand for the national anthem for just about 50 seconds!!!!!!!

Its ‘cool’ to oppose singing of national anthem, standing up for it if that’s played before an opera, cool to oppose installing a national flag mast at the universities, cool to shout out anti-national slogans and then some weak in the knee old fag would come out with that cacophonous stinking obnoxious argument of the “freedom of speech” freedom they choose pretty selectively. The same fake intelligentsia who draw inspiration from Stalin and Mao, wouldn’t educate their blind pupils how Mao and Stalin killed millions in the name of “nation building”. They’d rather be exhorting subversion and sedition in the name of “freedom of speech” that too in a nation which by any measures is one of the freest in the world, yeah freest and i meant it, where else can you get away with your daily pissing on the roadside, throwing refuge on the streets, spitting anywhere you feel like? Where else they give you rights without asking for responsibility in return?

When was the last time you sang that national anthem? perhaps that school assembly? the place where you were made to do so, okay then, when did you voluntarily do it with your free will? well, i can go have a pint of beer while you think of one, yes one such instance in your entire life yet many wouldn’t be able to come up with an answer. Then even standing up to pay your respect while its played causes certain pains in the back, knee and ….

And then, you, yes you the surviving on a pacemaker old fag, you the politician, you the “intellectual”, you the “Journalist” answer me, answer the commoner, why shouldn’t those shouting for breaking the nation be tried for sedition, is being a student an excuse? come up with a better one. Universities aren’t for that debauchery, ain’t a harem of the hemp vaping ‘students’ in late thirties feeding of subsidised dough, lodging and education. That subsidy is a drain on my pocket, i have a right to ask.

and then, what the goddamn flying ‘duck’ is Hyper Nationalism? how is supporting your army in a fight with vile dogs of terrorism “hyper Nationalism” how? Yes ill watch Paltan, ill watch Uri and i will stand up to pay my allegiance to the banner, the flag, the anthem and punch you in the face too when you label anything Hyper. This is my nation and if there is anything ‘Hyper’ here, it is ‘Hyper Liberty’ that liberty that proffers you the loose rope and not the gallows.

That youth has been drawn to the watering hole of “divergent Squint ideology”, that youth already is seeing nationalism as a concept of past, that youth is being programmed to be sheepish of patriotism, that ideology is creeping and it sure is enveloping the generation.

well then, didn’t i tell you already, perception doctors are working on you, they’ll shape you, in turn will shape the fate of this nation and society. That perception, you don’t own it, its acquired and you better be watchful of what taste you acquire! what hue you choose for your glasses, well, for me, the hue has always been “OLIVE GREEN” and so it stays!

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Getting older and procrastinating it with change in genres!

Did someone just pour some Chipotle sweet onion sauce on my Cantonese noodles or its just my palate grown archaic!

Was time since last attempted some pub hopping and tub thumping on some hardihood inciting guitar and drums so took a trip to a microbrewery ghetto, girls were miser with clothes, people loud, smoke hung over the crowded human congregation as a grim reminder of the 1.4 billions that the nation nurtures.

Two nostalgia filled old timers, walked in with the tough acclimatised rapport and equally zealous thirst for some sweet, sour, aromatic beer and tender grilled chicken.

The beer was good and betting on the artic ice, chilled, some chicken and gulps to wash it down and the sense of motive started taking over.

Something was wrong, yes it was, that rush of adrenaline and long howling with the airguitar moments with a muscle frenzy, that’s what we always came for, damn it was a pub, what’s in a pub without the frenzy?

No led zep zeppelin, no pink Floyd, no G n R, no metallica, no chumbawamba, maaaaaan that was outrageous! And that DeeJay, he kept flipping and rolling those DESPACITOS, some Twerking posterior humdrum then some punjabi track with soft acoustic guitar in it …………….MAAN, HOW CAN SOME PUNJABI TRACK HAVE GUITAR IN IT?? That’s blasphemous.

Music made a forced entry to my ears, something that my soul would reject, nauseating, as obnoxious and out of place as HUMMUS IN MY NOODLES or AJINOMOTO IN MY LASAGNA, my palate sure told me it was degeneration of food.

Wait, what do I see then, girls and boys there waiving their hands and arms out, some flamboyant ladies actually giving twerk an ugly try with mammoth posterior…………….all this on not so music music.

Sure the world was at it’s end, I indeed could notice an asteroid heading in our direction, but then my mind gathered all that rare maturity and echoed loud to me,

MAAN, YOU’VE GONE OBSOLETE, THAT MUSIC IS FOR THOSE KIDS OUT THERE, YOU GO HOME AND PLAY YOURS.

now I know the reason world ends! And for us born in the 80s and stuck with rock retro vision it’s ending pretty soon. Generation gap comes sooner than you imagine nowadays, been hooked to rock for ages now and that love didn’t change with an occasional visit to the Rastafarian hood with some Bob Marley laidback hymns.

It was year 2012 and I was still at my regulation Pink Floyd and Van Halen while a friend brought a revelation, an entire USB drive full of EDM and Trance which I reluctantly accepted, tried listening to with a disinterested ear and then that manifestation started to envelope me with its freshness. I was out of the shower and refreshed, that left me a feeling, the bittersweet feeling of my own obsolescence, that reality punched me in the face and said it loud ” you are getting older by day“.

I had to beat the time, had to prevent it from etching my journey on my skin, i had to change my vintage Enfield cruiser with a faster and more zealous bike, i had to feed myself with that daily potion of fresh energy morsel by morsel. Biking, trekking, travel, fitness and acceptance of the “new” were my “morsels”, music included. I needed to climb that mountain, walk that trail, travel that road, run my ten miles, fit in my old jeans and i won’t let that youth slip away.

They say change is the only constant and i was decided, affirmative that i wont be that bullheaded adamantine cretin to resist the change. Youth was there, pretty much there in the change and that change i needed to embrace and cling on to, i accepted another genre and let myself sway in the rhythmic trance, i was young and that EDM and trance bestowed upon me the energy i looked for.

But then, was it just the change of genre i was longing for? Naah! that was the change and the acceptance of it that aroused the energy within. Staying stiff-necked with a genre was standing against an avalanche of change that was sure going to roll me over, i rather decided to put on my skis and ride along, let that pristine breeze of change hit me in the face as i ride through times, celebrating my journey as it goes.

Are you ready to take a hop, ride along the change? i grant you, that’s fun!

Punjab! ever vibrant and up for the takers : A commoner’s cognizance

Year 1984 Dorangla, a small border hamlet in the District Gurdaspur, Punjab : a kid of about four years had swallowed a ten Paisa coin, that coin had led to a family’s grind with the times they were in, the coin had to be flushed out of the child’s system either by force feeding roughage to him that would eventually flush out the foreign object with the normal bowel movement or else the child would have to be operated upon. The child’s father, himself a doctor, struggled to convince the child to eat as the four years old would only eat what he liked and the modest, reticent quintessential middle class surroundings hadn’t provided the child with choices of imagination, a homely, simple “banana” was all that he asked for.

Not much of a struggle buying some bananas for the child, isn’t it? read the “year” again, 1984, Operation Blue-star was on and entire punjab was barricaded, curfew imposed, none could move out and risk of being shot at by the security forces in this situation was pretty much justifiable. Man rode his picayune little Bajaj scooter to scout for “Bananas”, pleading and convincing the Security Forces at every check post but the market too was shut down. That being a small hamlet, people generally knew each other and certainly, the Senior Medical Officer was known in the area and it helped, he knocked some doors and was guided to the home of a local fruit vendor, he finally had in his possession those cherished “bananas”.

Those “bananas” won’t justifiably narrate the ordeal that every family in the state had to endure, there would have been people ailing, in need of medical treatment, pregnant and in need of medical attention and many situations one can’t imagine as a routine.

That wasn’t all, there were killings, selective killings of the innocent by militants, innocents in crossfire, militants and security forces in encounters, all our people, people of Punjab, citizens of India.

Being a non-partisan, wouldn’t get into the origin of the turmoil and how our “friendly” neighbor milked the situation which was in tune with its “bleed by thousand cuts” policy against India. All i know is any fight needs a “just cause” to fuel the fight by providing the valuable motivation and that just cause is either just there owing to prevailing circumstances or is manufactured/ tailored to fit to the fight.

One can stitch together some instances to make a “just cause” in the instant case however utmost that made to everyone’s ears was “1984”, that genocide against Sikhs in Delhi, undoubtedly heinous, dastardly and was irreversible damage to the integrity of the nation. That led to loss of faith of Sikhs in the very bedrock of our existence as a nation, the unity. Damage was done and each member of the mob involved in those killings owns the culpability of the damage, drugged by political vengeance and being shepherded by corrupt politicians, damage can’t be undone but justice could have been done in time, justice could have alleviated the pain a little.

Justice lingered! notwithstanding, Punjab saw the dawn of new era in early 90s, an era of newfound vitality, normalcy and growth. Militancy ended and that ended all attributable to the patriotism and the faith in democracy amongst the people. Yet again Punjab proved that it was vibrant, patriot and nationalistic.

Justice lingered! that generation which endured it all, died waiting to see the culprits on gallows and here is the next generation of gel fed paddy haired couch potatoes given a life at ease by the parents who did sweat for each penny earned. Quick to hop on to any nonsense trending on social media, their ears fed “racial pride” on a regimen by the Canada returned pop Punjabi singers. Cacophony of the word “jatt”, that word fills the lyrics of every second trending song, makes the title of majority of the movies and racial pride is fed all day without anyone paying much heed to the perils of it. The “Bhindranwala” stickers on cars is “pride” without even knowing what those dark times meant.

Rudderless ‘STATE’ of affairs and a view through the windscreen!Driven through Punjab lately? Always believed a road trip tells you about the society like nothing else and to my dismay,I learnt that my state doesn’t seem ushering into delightful future. That ain’t amusing to drive through cities draped in billboards calling people to the blue collared ghettos of the the west.
IELTS and some random exam a decent fifth grader can get across, fill the everyday starry eyed dreams of the youth, study in canada and be a blue collared lackey for life is the fine print on every hoarding. Youth ready to jump into any random boat to west, girls prepared to marry any nincompoop, CREDENTIAL-LESS peacock haired NRI.

Presence in Olympic squad has diminished, land holdings are squeezed and farms are under pressure for yield and so is urea and pesticides pumping bulk into the crop turning to poison, PRIDE?? we have a special cancer train running, thats unique to this land itself.

RUDDERLESS…yeah the youth defines where the state would head from here on and that youth in entirety is being shepherded to CANADA and the failure to make it to the wonderland, lack of growth in farming owing to pushed to the corner soil and limited holdings and a lack of industrialization generates apt candidates for drug addiction. Imagine a situation if countries like Canada too shut their doors to the brownskin, pretty likely the way right wing governments of west are thinking of saving their turf. To top it all the state has been nurturing low intensity conflict likelyhood by letting khalistani propaganda go unabated for years.

What does the sinister concoction of unemployment, lack of direction, organised drug peddling and abuse, over the brim racial pride and consistent radicalisation leads to, doesn’t take a brainer for guesses……you have a perfect breeding ground for militancy and chaos.

Its vibrant, its ripe and its up for takers, that is Punjab today. The “just cause” still exists, the ingrate “friendly” neighbor still exists empowered by the reach of social media on a cell phone network. Is there some one observing the gravity of the situation and the turn it could take with the Khalistani “referendum 2020” on the anvil. Its only upto the “elected” representatives to reach out to the youth and give them a fresh direction. Is there someone with intent????

well, this only a citizen’s concern, dump it if you feel so, consider if you can!

From “English Shackles” to the “Political Hemp”

The nation chose a secular democracy as the system of governance at the inception of the constitution that every political party across the canvas either respects or puts up a show of respecting at the least. The nation till then was governed with a tight military style of command chain and there was no tolerance for any deviation from the system laid down by the British masters and it would be pretty safe to assume that the political “think tank” of the fresh independent nation would have preferred to have a liberal, non military like system in place given the constraints they experienced under the British.

British system of governance which reflects from the style of education system they followed for their own children as well as certain “Indian selected candidates” was indeed disciplinarian in nature and pretty much in line with military ethics and routine where apart from physical fitness and sports, the military “Drill” which was the basic tool of inculcating discipline among-st the pupil. Even today, the schools of utmost repute, the likes of The Mayo’s College, The Lawrence School Sanawar, The Sherwood or the Rashtriya Indian Military College Dehradun and various king George’s Military schools to name a few are all British era education institutes following some form of military disciplinarian modus operandi as the basic ethos.

The school authorities have their own system of penalizing and ensuring discipline at all times, fine chores as simple as wearing a uniform or dining in a MESS is soaked in the youth before he leaves his school for a career outside. Moral code of conduct, sportsmanship, courtesy, discipline, loyalty, punctuality are some tenets the system has the impetus on. Civility is something which harped upon by the system though it wouldn’t be sane to assume that every alumni of these institute would be en example of civility, deviations are considerable but the system tries to ensure discipline and civility notwithstanding.

Even if one was to take the ancient Indian “Gurukul” system of education as a benchmark, the mob indiscipline was unacceptable and total devotion to the “Guru”, the teacher, was called for. Individuals were given a model code of conduct to follow and to absorb before they were let out to the world where they would eventually make their own decisions.

Pr-independence India saw student politics as a tool of dissent against the ruling regime, the British who were outsiders and India had to get rid of them somehow. That “somehow” encouraged politics in education institutes, which was then in turn carried to independent India as well.

Now we have career politicians in our education institutes furthering their ambitions of making it to the upper echelons of the industry called politics, budding career politicians who’d care no heed to the education that they are in for, rather would focus on the career that would earn them privilege, money and standing in the society even without a real skill to enrich the society they form part of.

Stark irony of the political system lies within our daily regimen. A responsible young man endures all impediments, the steep ascent in his voyage to the basic livelihood, gets bruised and mellowed as he gets along the hackneyed chores of buying a dwelling, the daily bread, has no time for allegiance to politics whatsoever and then, why should he? but that man is not clever enough to utilise the college campuses for making people his skateboards of evangelism and that clever career politician knows it well.

Campuses where the mob agitations, over the brim agenda pushing in the name of “freedom of expression“, political allegiances rule the roost, there is very less room for discipline, mob processions are the end of discipline. Agitations to halt industrial work, put a spoke in implementation of a developmental work, stop traffic by blocking a road which might even lead to death of a patient being carried to hospital in an ambulance, protesting by torching buses and trains, destroying public property however have become a norm are miles from civility, the same civility which was the purpose of the education institutes.

Holding a students union election, deploying security forces to prevent any disturbance before, during and after elections cost public money, after all that cop is not meant to do and is not paid for what he is made to do. Issues varying from the Kashmir conflict to AFSPA, to relations with neighboring country are passed a verdict on by some random hemp smokers who haven’t even passed college yet and naive common students become vehicles of their propaganda helping them in their own political ambitions. College/ University authorities losing control over what goes in the campuses isn’t a good sign, perfect situation is created for separatists to push their cart as well, we have seen that happening already.

And then, to what end? What has student politics achieved

We have a generation vehemently fighting against national anthem in movie theater, how weak in the spine we are today that we cant stand for a minute to pay respect to our flag, our anthem. We’ve had “Student activists” and educationists fighting alongside against the installation of our own national flag in universities, is that an eye sore to you? we have a new term coined for being a nationalist thinker “hyper nationalism” , we have people mining “intolerance” in every second happening in our country and dividing the society further to bits.

This is what we gain from politics in educational institutes, we have many chores to tend to in the path to making of a better society, Ban students’ politics to begin with before we are thrown to chaos, let universities be the shrines, the lamasery of learning, wouldn’t recommend the Military disciplinary regimen but wouldn’t like that quagmire of narcissistic political agenda pushing either.


Paucity is a giver, abundance has blood on its hands!

Winter had just set in, that evening it asserted itself profoundly to have Delhi in shivers and though I had ditched my car for the sanity of riding my bike to maneuver through that quintessential Delhi evening chaotic traffic, my pale blue hands, numb with the chill conveyed how idiotic my decision was. I immediately asked for a stiff Old Monk the moment I reached, I was sipping on rum and cola at a restrobar inside the deer park at Hauz khas Village and was joined by the friends who had hosted the meet up. Their son, a little cute kid of about three years and some wanted to see the deers, I wasn’t too sure whether the deers would just be here next to the restrobar’s hedge, we walked to the periphery and to my bewilderment the entire herd was there next to the wall gazing into the restrobar.

It just hit me, a thought, why were the wild right next to the watering hole of civilization, perhaps it was light, the light that wasn’t a norm in dark winter nights in the park which was left undisturbed. That restrobar was the only source of light in their neighborhood. Made me feel grateful for the light we have in our lives without much celebrations about its existence.

Something as ubiquitous as the daylight on a bright sunny day, something that we aren’t in a habit of praying for, thats just there and so it would always be and the haughty soul would just discount even a stray thought of gratitude for what’s a part of everyday living.

So is light, frame a day, a night without and you have the answer, need to be obliged for what’s given and we avail without much heed.

It wasn’t the light that lured the deers, it was the ” Paucity” and paucity sure is a giver, it’s a blessing in everyday life. Paucity is traumatized by our consistent maligning, man wouldn’t appreciate the goodness it brings, not many even understood.

My husband often narrated how good he felt seeing those meagre four hours of light on diesel generator at his Company Operating Base on mountains in wilderness, that was special after every taxing walk back to the COB from a Long Range Patrol or weeks out in deodar Forrest on an operation. He shook hands with paucity for a while, that paucity of a shelter, of comfort, of light, of cooked, spiced food, paucity of a damp cigarette, paucity of a basic stiff rum, of that hot water bath on arrival at the COB, he called that home, the home he had without mobile phone connectivity, without a Wi-Fi connection, without an electric line but paucity was omnipresent, generators provided that precious light and there was paucity of diesel, it ran only for four hours.

Man was wild, had no home, no hamlet no cities, no roads no technology, no vehicles to flaunt, fight for basic meal was the only chore. The city dweller I see everyday has all and yet not many I meet are indeed grateful for what they’ve been served for dinner in the comforts of their home. They aren’t gratified in the life they live, wouldn’t love to go back to the wild either. He’s got abundance and in abundance he’s lost his palate to savour what he’s been served, all his life the man ran from paucity for abundance and abundance killed his joy, his vitality, his frolics, his bliss, his elation. Abundance was an everyday killer, paucity just stood there maligned.

Abundance breeds cynics, critics, the fakes and the depressed, fortuneless, the poor knows nothing, he just savoirs what he is given, he owns paucity and that unknown to him is the source of his everyday joy! But then, he too would ditch her in quest for abundance.

Ungrateful, he won’t write a thanking note for what he has, abundance is a bliss, it’s an art to know how to live with it.

Gratitude

Hope, that elusive, flirty bitch!

He was low on ammunition, fuel and his spirit was damp and then a stray streak of hope tried to flirt with him ; he hoped he’d still win and get back alive, hoped his cigarettes werent damp and broken. He shrugged off that hope, hope was nonsense. hope after all was just an industrial instrument wise men used to run the foolish world. Democracy ran on that hope of better tomorrow fed to commoners at intervals, Cosmetics ran on that hope of beauty, life ran on that hope of getting better someday semehow, dying ran on the hope for some more time while wise men sold their medicines.

He was a soldier , to him that hope was a bitch walking along that nosy, haughty , rich bastard , the wise!
he wont be wise, hed just be alive.

And then, he hoped to be alive!

He was weather beaten, years etched on his skin, skin as parched as as the field he struggled ploughing, he had left a bottle of water under that banyan tree, he was athirst but he wouldn’t drink, that was too precious and he would rather save it for some while, he couldn’t hope for a lavish life, couldn’t hope for comforts, he hated hoping, that hope was unyielding. He knew she was an elusive bitch, he wouldn’t embrace!

He was a farmer, he’d rather just be alive, alive enough to see the rain pouring, see his crop alive. He fought his hunger, his thirst, his cravings, his hopes and did what he could do best, stay alive. He had seen days, years like these and knew he would succumb to that bitch, he didn’t own his fate, he couldn’t summon the rain.

He was tired and beaten of worrying about his children he’d keep alive even at a cost of his own, he needed an asylum, a cloak of comfort, a slumber of bliss where he could forget all his struggles.

He kneeled to hope, hope of rain and better days, he succumbed.

He was human, he didn’t own his fate, his entire existence was circumstantial, his everyday life hung by a slender thread, he’d hope that thread Stayed intact.

Hope was a haughty bitch he knew yet the man wouldn’t let go of the eroticism of succumbing to her asylum. He needed her by his side every day!

Bringing down your savior !

That man braves frostbites, scorching heat, leech infested jungles and walks on insouciant he fears none but YOU!

Hailing from a town of less relevance, living with a starry eyed dream of making a career someday on my own, growing in absence of extravagance and watching my parents enduring the chores which filled their everyday life, the life which tried preserving every little penny on a hope of a grandiose living, i never had time to spare for observing the town, the living, the trends and the rhythm that the nation was on.

That’s not just me, that’s the story of every middle class child as he grows by and by going through the rigmarole of school, college and the university. Always focused on making a career, equipping himself with ample academics to join the relay race his parents have been in for decades. Losing focus was way too adventurous and losing focus for the sake of making firm perceptions about the world around wasn’t worth the risk.

As an Architect making a niche for myself and slowly building up my career, marrying an Army Officer was a decision that changed me and the way future unfolded in more than just one way. Peers told me i was killing my career but then looking back i thank myself for making that decision everyday, it was a revelation traveling around the nation, observing and developing a perception about what happened around me. I owe to that one momentous decision the opinions i make and the anecdotes i share and the reason enough my writings have an “olive green” hue, cant help, i am wedded to the olive greens.

well then, there is something i always felt, always wanted to convey loud and profound ‘we the indian citizen are killing our savior’, now that statement might raise some hackles but then hackles don’t intimidate the truth.

“The Savior”

Out there on mountains, in jungles leeches bite, frost bites, man and beast gasp for air as they pant climbing cliffs, they pant in togetherness yet they carry on, some say the patriotism motivates them, naah, not at this moment, the only motivation is to reach his post, the man has assumed that to be his home, he sweats, experience the stich pain but keeps moving. He needs to reach and he knows no heroes welcome or paparazzi chase, all he’d rather be assured and contend with is some hot roti and daal, some rest and then perhaps a sentry duty on a bad day. He is human, yes he is and he too has plans and ambitions though not pretty far fetched yet he does plan to take off his shoes and remove those leeches and hope for a bath on reaching, be assured his buddy would prepare tadka for his daal(theres no racial profiling either, he doesn’t know these fine terms, he may be a tall burly Jagtar Singh from Mansa, Punjab and his buddy an aao Naga from mokokchung, Nagaland or a yum Bahadur Subba from YUKSOM, Sikkim) he’ll expect that buddy to keep his food hot and wait for him to arrive, they are a family. He prays that the company havaldar major will spare him tonight’s sentry watch and that’s a major deal sir.


No, this soldier didn’t plan for this life, he wouldn’t, had he he’d not be here, yes he’s got liabilities back home, he’s got stomachs to feed, yes sir he chose a profession but hell yeah, it breaks him when he hears you question his decision to stand guard at the thin red line, someone had to.

Well as of now he’s not worried, he lives and dies alone, a paltry procession in his native village when he dies is all the publicity he’s guaranteed. He takes off his shoes, removes leeches, thank his gods that he’ll rest as he has not been detailed for sentry duty tonight, unroll his mat and sleeping bag. He’ll not let leeches affect. That modest, cheerful commoner is your “Savior” in flood, earthquake, drought, tsunami and yes in war. Yet the savior fears you!

Respect his flag, his anthem, the banner and his allegiance, that’s all we can do and the least we can do and many would argue they do all that already, no! collectively as a nation we don’t. What does he stand for, its the the cohesion, the resin than binds this nation together, the sanctity of its physical borders and the life of the common citizen governed by the constitution of this country.

That is what he stands for, he isn’t just guarding a thin red line on the political map of this landmass, nation means you to him. He draws his support, his inspiration from the sentiments that you exhibit towards him, his cause.

Every time we have a riot threatening the unity, the social fabric of the nation, you, the mob collectively deal a blow to the very spirit he stands for. Every caste, clan, religion biased political statement is a wound dealt afresh to him. Every time you hold his entire religion responsible for one rape just because some bollywood jester held a banner for his own movie’s popularity, you just hop into the vehicle of propaganda and share the banner on social media without realising what manifestation it would have.

The “celebrities” owing to their persistent ride on the minds of naive followers have the power of “trending” any nonsense and nonsense wouldn’t bother the commoner like me much but the sinister lack of responsibility does.

We, the 1.3 Billion, the nation, yes that landmass isn’t the nation but the 1.3 Billion dwellers. We, the fourth most powerful nation in the living world, the nation which is probing Mars and we choose our heroes, our icons way too sloppily, we choose some bollywood harlequin to go after and follow .

A commoner’s opinion springs from his everyday fight for the basics that he has to earn for his family, real memoirs are soaked in blood, sweat and some broken dreams. Memoirs are never made on a vision through a pair of “Louis Vuitton” peepers, real walk of life can never be on “Jimmy Choo”. How then, one can expect that gumption, that honest, real opinion from those cocooned in air conditioned niche of theirs. Every campaign by them has to be seen skeptically, they are dangerous creatures in the era of social media, would go to any neighborhood for furthering their commercial goals . You, my countrymen would do well to just enjoy the frolics and not become groping followers, you are being used as vehicles of evangelism without you even realising it.

Lets put things in perspective now, do you even distantly realise the effect of every social media post that you share or comment upon? India is a nation of billions and quintessentially a case study of diversity. Name a country which has as many religions, clans, tribes, castes, ethnicity and divides, i am sure you cannot. With diversity comes the burden of preserving the unity, bridging the fissures in society and healing the fractures. Every state in India would have some or the other fracture line of varied intensity and we in the age of social media have been on a relentless campaign to exploit every fracture line to the hilt, Bhima Koregaon” was a non issue blown out of proportion and a riot manufactured damaging the goverment’s property and costed the exchequer a fortune but yet that damage wasnt as sinister, as threatening as the damage to the unity, the bedrock of the national survival.

We have our heroes studying in government sponsored universities, heroes who are career politicians even before they pass out from the same university they organise their campaigns in, universities arent meant for political agenda pushing, are they?

India has fought five wars post independence, none has been as threatening as the damage to the unity posed by irresponsible hero worshiping and agenda pushing on social media is.

There is no relevance of a strong army guarding your frontiers if you eat your nation from within and that’s what our collective naivety does. Every wound inflicted on the integrity of the nation by irresponsibly becoming an instrument of exploiting the fractures within our society, our nation is death of the “Savior”.

Choose your heroes responsibly India, don’t kill your savior !