Human beings love stereotypes. They simplify the complexity of the world by reducing complex problems, like understanding a human being and what makes him what he is, into a series of comparatively easy generalizations from which so-called logical conclusions can then be chained together .(“He is Bengali. Hence he must support Sourav Ganguly”) All of us do it, present company included, though we do not often fess up to them, because some types of stereotyping, if they fall within the set of politically incorrect no-no-s (sexist being the flavor of the season), bring about firm raps on knuckles or eternal hell-fire and damnation, whichever is quicker.
“Hospitality. Logicality. Technicality. Practicality. Sociality. Physicality. Legality. Regality. Geniality. Vitality. Totality. Originality. Punctuality. Spirituality. Immortality… WHO’S THE MAN? HE’s THE MAN. NaMo Namo “
–The Namo Youth Anthem [Video]
As a purveyor of popular culture and the general state of things, one of my abiding interests lies in deconstructing extreme popularity.
What is “extremely popular?”
Here is how I look at it. When armies of strangers, with no direct stake in your well-being (your relatives , paid PR and those in it for quid pro quo do not count), spend countless hours of their mortal lives, risking Carpal Tunnel syndrome, ruptured arteries and the very sanity of their souls, verbally or virtually garroting anyone who doubts your absolute awesomeness, or make youth anthems with the words “Last Air Bender” delivered in an accent that makes Mallika Sherawat sound as authentically American as Clint Eastwood, that’s when you have made the cut of extremeness.
[Parody. No vocal chords were harmed in the making of this post.]
Arnab G: Ladies and gentlemen, we have broken many stories here on the News Hour over the years. But nothing, ladies and gentlemen, nothing will have prepared you for the story we will be breaking here today, exclusively on Times Now, something that will dwarf the 2G scandal, Gujarat 2002, Coalgate, Coffingate, Commonwealthgate, Bill Gate, Seagate and Stargate.
I have, in my hand, (brandishing papers in front of the camera), conclusive, CONCLUSIVE, proof that I have been impersonated on Twitter. I have this impersonator today with me here in the studio, now, at the top of the hour, a man who goes by the name of Arnab and runs a blog called “Random Thoughts of a Demented Mind”. I will be asking him a simple question. A simple question, because I am a simple person.
And that question today, is
“Will you apologize to the nation now or will you apologize later?”
ON THE NEWS HOUR TONIGHT.
If pure love is that which sets your heart on fire, which makes you sit up late at night sleepless and panting, then I can say that what I feel for Bedouin Sher e Bengal is that only.
Pure heart-burning passion.
Over the years, I have had the privilege of visiting many places and sampling a wide variety of cuisines. But nothing, and I mean nothing, packs the emotional impact of a mouthful of food cooked in the kitchens of Bedouin. I don’t care if people say that the biriyani of Arsalan is better or that Shiraz is the best for Mughlai food. Maybe they are right. Who knows? It’s like all the sensuous writhings of a Sunny Leone count for nought, explicit as they are, on an emotional scale, in front of Raveena Tandon’s “Tip Tip Barsa Pani” just because the latter touches me in a more personal way.
So don’t even argue.
Because you see, when I put a morsel from Bedouin into my mouth, I am not just having “food”. I am connecting via a gustatory bridge to times and tastes gone by.
So I have been doing a five-day workshop on entrepreneurship at the Smith School and as part of that, they taught us this thing called the Business Model Canvas to outline, concisely, the basics of a business model. In order to understand the concept, I made one for “Any Indian Political Party”. This is of course a work in progress, just like our political parties. [PLEASE CLICK ON THE PICTURE TO READ THE TEXT]
She: Dadu, what should Independence Day mean for me?
Dadu (Grandfather): Why this question?
She: I know you won’t like my saying this but, for me at least, Independence Day means nothing. When I was younger, I used to think of it as fun. Standing in line at school and waving little flags, no classes, coming home and watching yet another rerun of Gandhi. But now that I can think for myself, I find this…I don’t know…
Dadu: What don’t you know?
She: I don’t know what I am supposed to feel. I don’t see what’s special. I really don’t.
She: I mean, they force it on you everywhere. As if making you stand every time before a movie isn’t bad enough every day of the year, here is one day devoted solely to standing up and saluting.
Dadu: Well, some might say, that this is a little sign of respect for those that made it possible for you to watch a movie, as first-class citizens in your own country.