I am very much thankful to my brother and friend Mr. Ranam Adhikari for sending such a very worthy article which represents the commom situation of most of the people in our country.
I don’t have a delusion of grandeur. I know my limits – I am the hoi polloi. I don’t understand the obfuscations and rarefied esoteric jargons of your politics but don’t gullibly succumb to complete apathy and swallow your porky pies; hook, line and sinker. One need not know the whole rigamarole of body anatomy to say that he has a headache. Your placebo isn’t gonna work on muggins here because I am not in the habit of feigning anything, the artifice you are wizard at.
Have you heard the one about two cats gnashing their ivories over the sharing of a bread and a sly monky brokering between to chomp away the whole? Now I think those felines were way wiser than you silly politicos in that their story ends then and there. They didn’t quibble after the matter of dispute is gone. Looks like your bread is nibbled to all intents but ego war and wheel and deal of your bellicose politics is running and running. One day the monkey will bloat its paunch and be gone but you incorrigible morons are the goners, your attitudes are dead giveaway.
I remember some years back having come through the pictures of some starving Africans, eyes sunken in their death’s head and unable to hold themselves straight with the skull shifting their centre of gravity way upward the body. It used to be some sort of funny and occasional bouts of telescopic philanthropy. But such sights give me goosebumps nowadays. The very thought of myself suffering the same fate makes me quake in my boots. The phantasmagoria of my children shaking in death throes makes me bag of nerves.
Yonks ago in the halcyon days of my childhood and blissful ignorance I remember my grandfather saying that if a dog barks for food give it more than it can digest. The trots thereafter makes it keep shut. The more it barks, the more jetting from the posterior orifice until the moron realizes that it is wiser to pucker its ass than to yap. It was also a funny then until I understood the wisdom behind it.
Are we being given enough rope to hang ourselves in the name of freedom? Are we all gonna end with puckered asses? Is democracy a Heath Robinson grinding machine where one dies of starvation before the flour is ready? Is democracy prohibitively expensive or just these load of self indulgent politicians are making heavy weather of it?
Here is an excerpt from Dostoevsky’s work – A weak man cannot control himself on his own. Give him everything, and he’ll come of his own accord and give it back to you;give him half the world, just try it, and what do you think he’ll do? He’ll hide in your shoe immediately, that small will he make himself. Give a weak man a freedom and he’ll fetter it himself and give it back to you. A foolish heart has no use for freedom!
Enough has been said about our potentials and resources, enough of the Monday morning quarterbacks barking at the moon and enough of the air heads sitting on a gold mine reinventing a wheel. I don’t want to warble the whole kit and caboodle, or say labour the point. All I have is my own side of the matter – I see zombies nowadays! They are everywhere looking as if attending an obsequies. They are in the footpaths, buses, parks, petrol pumps, shops, right, left, down and every which way. What has gone off is they are flocking into me by some sort of telepathy. And the worst is they are metamorphosing me into something which is making me tick.
Zombie mothers trudging dead bit piggy backing their emaciated infants along the streets engulfed in the inferno of burning tyres. Zombie fathers hunkering in the pavement leaning against a wall with namlo in their hands in a hope of keeping the wolf from the door; clouds blackly looming. Zombie brothers, comatose by worries, sitting on a park bench, staring blankly at the impending doom; glassy eyed and pasty faced. Zombie sisters pale about the gill moving gingerly along…………words failed me! Zombie pythons winding miles down the roads gaping their mouthes in front of petrol pumps. Zombies doing highway robberies to the ones stuck in strike, audacious ones involved in kidnappings and robberies, wuss ones doing petty crimes. And me the hoi polloi, undergoing constant metamorphosis.
As I have already said I am the hoi polloi and I know my limits. I have nothing to do with you and I know you don’t give a hoot for me except making me your trump card. Oh scoundrels! swing sword as much as you wish but please don’t do it in my courtyard. Kauravs and Pandavs had chosen Kurukshetra to decide who will rule the roost. They didn’t skirmish in the villages of the little people. Have a heart scums of the earth! I have children in my home and I fear their minds get perverted by the unsightly scabby deeds of you rotten apples. Just choose a den of iniquity far away from my home to play you filthy games. The day one of you vermins comes top dog, I will bow down before you. Better a devil than a pack of wolves.
Nevertheless, your victory will be a pyrrhic one and your power transitory. Never underestimate my potential. I have my own pace of running. My movement is slow but it is linear. A D-day will come and it is on the horizon. Mothers will sing and sisters will dance, brothers will clap and fathers will laugh. I may be your slave for the time being but the day I head off you I will slash my way through you falling you roots and branches. You will beg for mercy and grovel on my foot but I will do nothing fancy to hammer you hard nails and caste you in the pit of eternal damnation.
I have tore down the palaces and the mightiest of dictators have turned tail at my sight. You bunch of toe rags are just sweet Fanny Adams to me. I am the hoi polloi and I know my limits but it is always beyond yours.
Excuse me deaf dunderheads! I am a time bomb ticking in your ears.