It must be the heat. I can think of no other reason for this outbreak of mass lunacy in the country.
Item: In Gujarat, six persons are hospitalised after attempting suicide. Their demand: that the cow be officially declared “mother of the nation”. (At which point, I presume, Bharat Mata will become the nation’s official grandmother?)
The response (just one among dozens of such):
And below each such response, knee-jerk affirmation from the noddies, as at some profound statement.
In a sense, though, this *is* profound. Profoundly disturbing, that death means nothing more to us than an opportunity to play political gotcha. And no side is exempt — consider the enormous irony of the Congress “protesting” against the government of the day on the issue of farmer suicides.
BJP president Amit Shah, reportedly “furious” at MLA Gyandev Ahuja’s risible remarks re the number of condoms and such found in JNU trashcans, has supposedly summoned the man for a meeting.
How’s that working out for Mr Shah? Because now, this: (Emphasis mine)
Gyan Dev Ahuja, a BJP legislator from Rajasthan who has earned ridicule for suggesting the Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU) was a sex den, said on Thursday that 50% of the cases of rape and molestation in New Delhi were committed by the students of the institute.
The statistics are from the annual report of the Delhi Commission for Women (DCW), the MLA from Ramgarh in Alwar district, who drew flak earlier this week over claims that more than 3,000 used condoms and 2,000 liquor bottles are found daily at the JNU campus, said.
What to say? Must be true — after all, he says he had it from the DCW, and the DCW has given him precise information. 50%. No more, no less.
Seems a good time to remind you of this post from a day earlier.
In recent times, even media outlets openly proclaiming allegiance to the right have been saying that the serial controversies are beginning to hurt the Modi government. Which should remind us of this:
Wasn’t MS Dhoni, among others, issued with a non-bailable warrant for offending Hindu sentiments thusly?:
But then this is Amma — the Queen of Bad Taste. Whose photos appear on relief materials when Chennai is flooded. And next to the coffin of a slain soldier.
This morning on my way to work, I ate a bhurji.
It was no ordinary bhurji, mind — the vendor at the corner of the street near my home made it exclusively for me. He put aside everything else he was doing; from his stock, he selected the exact right green chillies and the perfect onion for my palate. And oh, those eggs — two of the finest ever laid!
The vendor Sivaram, who the cognoscenti tell me is an acknowledged expert in the art of bhurji-making and who created the dish with skill that had been passed on to him through the generations, told me the eggs had been laid exclusively for me, and no one else in this world, ever, would be able to taste those identical eggs, no matter how much money was on offer. By way of guarantee, he even shook out the very last drops of the gooey stuff from the insides of the cracked shells and then crushed the shells to smithereens.
It was, I vow, divine. And as I ate that bhurji, made exclusively for me out of eggs laid exclusively for me, I thought of all you poor folk out there who just don’t get it: None of you get, more’s the pity, that the best things in life are exclusive.
Vir Sanghvi shares my belief, vide this exercise in tactless, tasteless condescension:
PS: It’s Friday, folks. Not likely to be on here much.