One Down and a Million To Go


Hoorah ! One more Jihadi lowlife is going to meet virgins and young boys . LET scum Mohammed Arif aka Ashfaq tried to get us all senti—look how nobly he wanted to donate his blood for the victims of Delhi’s terrorist attacks. I think we should oblige—-empty his body of blood, slowly and steadily.

And while the flesh of Indians burn in New Delhi, we donate millions of dollars to the humanistic relief efforts in Pakistan because we want to help “innocent Kashmiris and Pakistanis”. Just like we did after independence when Pakistan attacked us and we were still transferring money to them as part of the partition agreement. Sardar Patel wanted to stop that transaction for the rather illogical reason that the money we were giving them was being used to kill us. But a thin old saintly man threatened to go on hunger strike if we did not give Pakistan their share. And you thought that only the movie “Chocolate” made no friggin sense.

I sincerely hope we catch them bastards who turned off all the lights of Diwali in Delhi and give them the “Ashfaq”ing of their lives.


Die Sourav Die


I have said this before on my blog and I will say it now again. The Sourav Ganguly issue makes me more acutely aware of my identity than any other thing simply because anti-Gangulyism is strongly followed by and often driven by anti-Bengalism—-a surprisingly powerful and undeniably perceptible sentiment I have felt more than once in my life in the company of fellow Indians.

Let’s look at it logically. Who is Sourav to me? A rich man’s son who had many privileges growing up I didnt have—by common consent arrogant, abrasive and petulant. Not my favorite kind of person. I have never been parochial, have no problems in making fun of other other Bengali heroes (Mithunda), do not hero-worship Netaji and do not feel that the Hilsa is the last thing in cuisine. And yet the mere mention of Dada makes me acutely conscious of my linguistic identity which is ironical in that Sourav Ganguly’s greatest legacy is his lack of parochialism and his hard-nosed objectivity when dealing with Indian cricket players.

Here’s a simple test. Go through a few articles about Sourav. The word “Bengal” or “Kolkata” is going to be present in the article with a high probabibility. Now go through a few articles about Sachin. Check out “Maharashtra” or “Mumbai”. Just to confirm that go to articles about Rahul Dravid and check out “Karnataka” or ” Bangalore”.

Go through the Orkut discussion on Ganguly. The people who abuse Ganguly also use abusive words against Bengalis —mostly concerning our paternities and the characters of our women. In Stonybrook where I was a PhD student for 5 years, the guy who used to rain abuse at Ganguly happened to be someone who stayed in Kolkata when he was a child and hated it. Just a coincidence. Whenever Ganguly got out, eyes would turn towards me….some people would tell me ” Ki Arnab-da….when is Dada going to make runs?” as if somehow me being Bong made me answerable for Sourav’s performance. No Bangalorean or Marathi was ever made accountable for Sachin’s or Rahul Dravid’s failures with the bat—-and there have been several over the past 5 years.

So let me pre-empt Mr Anonymous commenter. Yes sir, I support Ganguly because he is Bengali. Because you have left me no other choice. If I was Bangalorean and took out a procession burning effigies of Ganguly and shouting slogans for Rahul Dravid, I would not be considered parochial. But with me being a Bengali Kolkatan, I have already been labelled. So now let me live upto it. Unapologetically.

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My 55 word story


[Noone tagged me….but here goes]

Punch drunk with lust, she moves away the sheets and invites him wordlessly to join her on the bed. He is sculpted like a Greek God. She shivers and opens herself up to him. He however quivers and smiles embarrassedly.

“Finished soo soon?” She complains.

“It’s just a 55 word story. What do you expect?”


Breaking News


This I just have to tell you guys.

Reliable sources from Kolkata (my mother actually) inform me that one of the Kali Pujo “committees” going around collecting Pujo subscriptions is calling themselves “Rok Sako To Rok Lo”. [This is not a spoof—-there is actually a club that has sprung up with this name] inspired no doubt by the mega-hit movie directed and produced by a great management guru.

Haha….so this is where the moolah for the swimming pools and WiFi comes from—-door to door subscriptions gathered through a mix of innovative marketing and muscle—-

“Dada what should I put you down for? What nothing? Excuse me do you know who we are? Do you want to stay in this locality or not? Do you want a duly notarized email from the “Sena Who Sux” asking for 175 crores? Do you think that’s going to be fun? Or would you prefer us burning chickens before they are hatched in front of your door?

Good….now you have started thinking beyond your own wallet….do remember to come for the bhog ceremony—our Kali image has a long ponytail drenched in blogger’s blood, with Ma standing wearing a necklace made out of the heads of Gaurav Sabnis, Reshmi Bansal and assorted other bloggers while she strangles with her feet—–all the IIMs.

And that’s not all, if you pay us 4 lacs we will throw in a not-recognized-by-anyone MBA degree along with Ma’s Prasad…………”

Jai Ma Kali ………

Some Random Thoughts Of A Demented Mind


Here are a few of my observations about Pujo, Calcutta and India in general.

1. What’s the matter with Ma Durga being shown without weapons in Muhammed Ali Park ?(for you people for whom history starts with Sachin Tendulkar, this Muhammed Ali is not the famous boxer but one of the Khilafat movement leaders) What kind of liberal, pacifist horseshit is responsible for pigeons in the hands of the Goddess of Power?

2. What happened to Durga Protimas constructed based on the faces of film stars? Some people consider that blasphemy—I consider it fun. The Hema Malini/Sridevi/Madhuri Dixit lookalike Durgas—-aah the innocent 80s and early 90s. And I will never forget the Andy Roberts lookalike Asura and his cousin the Vivian Richards Asura……even though the West Indies were battering us in cricket, come Pujo and they would be groveling at the feet of our Holy Mother (who had badass spears and tridents in her 10 hands and not pigeons) ! This time I was expecting a Mallika Sherawat-Ma Durga and a Michael Jackson- Asura or at the very least an Asura with a ponytail called Murgasura (Chicken-Devil). But it seems our sculptors have totally lost their creativity.

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Pujo Perspective


6 years had passed since I had last been in Kolkata for the Pujos. 6 years is a long time….back then Ganguly was still loyal to his wife, Sachin’s batting was still enjoyable, Abhishek Bachchan was the biggest failure of Bollywood, LK Advani was the future face of BJP, the World Trade Center was an overpriced tourist trap and I was still slim.

Indeed “a long long time”.

I had been away from the city I love for 6 years pursuing my PhD in a land far away missing one Pujo after another. I refused to visit websites with pictures of Durga Puja and indulge myself in that monstrosity marketed as “e-darshan”—-what a load of IIPM.

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