Shoe attacks and the art of gaining publicity

Prime Minister Manmohan Singh became the latest victim of the shoe-throwing epidemic that is hitting Indian politicians on the campaign trail this season, although the flying footwear thankfully failed to reach its target.

Other politicians who have survived shoe-cide attacks include BJP leader LK Advani, Home Minister P Chidambaram and Congress MP Naveen Jindal.

Ever since the now fabled shoe protest made its international debut when a disgruntled Iraqi reporter threw his size 10 shoes at former US president George Bush, the sport seem to be catching on fast among Indians who are otherwise usually preoccupied with the gentleman’s game of cricket.

 

Although most of the perpetrators claim a grouse against the intended shoe recipients and their affiliated parties, the 21-year-old computer engineering student who hurled his sneaker at prime minister Singh reportedly admitted that he did it for the sake of publicity. 

And why not, with his predecessors like Iraqi journalist  Muntazer al-Zaidi and Indian reporter Jarnail Singh receiving accolades from a section of the public, and all the shoe-throwing fraternity in India so far getting away scot free without being charged (al-Zaidi was however, sentenced to three years in jail).

And like enthusiastic sport fans, protester-wannabes in Uttar Pradesh have even started training how to throw shoes at cowering politicians. 

With controversy-weary leaders refusing to take action against the protesters, it looks like the fad will continue for some time and the name of another angst-ridden soul will soon emerge from anonymity to the front page of our morning papers.

So the question that begs an immediate answer is – apart from setting up metal nets at election rallies(put story link), will political leaders say enough is enough and press charges against shoe-hurling party poopers the next time an incident occurs?

Or is shoe-throwing a legitimate form of protest?

Another one takes the plunge, a previous one pops out new life

It's becoming an epidemic. And I feel I am the only one who is immune to it. No, it's not a virus that turns humans into vampires, it's a condition, the cause of which science has so far been unable to find the answer to, although many 'liberal' European countries seem to have discovered ways to avoid contracting it.

It alters people's thoughts, interfere with the neural pathways of the brain, changing one's perception towards life, work, friends. And the irony is, the patient readily, eagerly...even desperately contracts it.

Yep, I'm talking about the 'institution' of marriage. Everyone I know is getting hitched, jumping into the unknown abyss of matrimony after pledging forever and ever, till death do..... you know the drill. And as they say -- things will never be the same again.

A night out with the boys, group discussions on the topic of 'the new hottie in town', playing a rowdy game of cards, visiting the 'booze barn' on a cloudy afternoon after buying fried grams at a roadside food stall, hoarse voices belting out love songs on a full moon night with an out-of-tune six string leading the way --- all consigned to the dustbin of history, probably never to be repeated again. That's what marriage does, setting new priorities for people.

Even when we started going out for further studies, holidays were always a time when everyone came together to renew the pledge of allegiance, so to say. But this time, it was different. And how!

In a span of just one and a half years, almost everyone I know is jumping into the bandwagon, taking the sacred vow and immediately proceeding to the next step of creating babies.

And this year, well,,, it was good. To be back home, that is. I had my own thing going on on love (yaaaa), and the family...it was all good. But the get-togethers, the carefree days where the complete gang came together to laugh, sulk, plan, execute, get in trouble........that's just not possible anymore.

Planning together became a hazardous task. A particular time for an event could never be agreed on. Some had chores at home, like changing baby diapers. And night-outs were out of the question now.

And to make matters worse, another one decided to take the plunge this time too, obviously not learning from other people's mistakes. And another one who had earlier lost his independence had to quickly learn how to clean baby poop when a little rascal popped out of his better half two weeks before the due date.

But what's most worrying is that I'm afraid even I'm starting to open up to the whole idea of having a metaphorical leash tied around my neck for the rest of my miserable life, or even beyond. Talk about peer pressure. Scary!

Close encounters with the dreaded coughlings

As the festival season begins to settle in, as the cold and nostalgic breeze stirs my memory into a feeling of longing, i suddenly WAKE UP, sniffling and coughing, half-cursing the gloomy weather as my feet slowly turn lifeless and cold.

For priviledged citizens like me who get to ride the famed Delhi public transport system everyday, no amount of Vitamic C will help us avoid being overwhelmed by nano-microscopic organisms who humiliate us by giving us runny noses, blocked noses and purring chests at least once during this joyous season of love and cold-wave deaths.

All my hygenic rituals and warm clothing could not save me from everyone's scourge, although, i proudly must admit that i held out for quite some time. But alas, when every person next to you on the street and on the bus coughs and sneezes in your face relentlessly for a couple of months, your immune system eventually raises its arms and say- you got me, pardner.
An encounter with the cough-lings always lead you to the cougher side.

And with my luck, it was only logical that I would fall additionally ill through food poisining. An exciting assignment ended on a sour note when the day i returned, my stomach started giving me sleepless nights for almost a week, with the obvious result felt most acutely in the bathroom. I'm never going to munch on butter-and tomato sandwitches on trips again. Ever!

I'm recovering, thank God, and i'm all set to take my plane ride HOME FOR CHRISTMAS at the end of the week. The thoughts, the memories, the smell of bonfires, of glowing embers of charcoal and wood, of chilly but starry nights, and yes, a full moon without the obstruction of ugly tall concrete buildings.

I'm set, i'm set i'm set. All my bags are packed i'm ready to go......and i'm leaving on a jetplane (provided it's not cancelled due to the wretched delhi fog).

In case I don't post anymore before I leave for the holidays, Merry Christmas to everyone. ----by Hobbs (taken not from the philosopher but from my favourite cartoon character Calvin and Hobbs). yea

Finally, something to write about.



It finally happened. The inevitable. Yes, Michael Jackson has decided to return to his home planet of Xabu in the Andromeda galaxy. Ok ok, i was just kidding. Although, i firmly believe he will... about 30 years from now, when global warming or his array of creditors hound him out of Earth.



What actually happened is-I am now officially part of the system that runs the well-greased(money-greased) machinery of the government. But wait, before i continue, i'm categorically stating that this post is NOT legally viable and anything i write/state will be denied/withdrawn in a court of law...or something like that. U get the drift.



Yep, i've finally given Chai (Tea) money to an official, that too after doing all the neccessary work and submitting every bloddy document, paper, fax, wax,xerox, photostate copies etc etc etc..I could understand him demanding money if i didn't have the neccessary papers or wasn't entitled to get a PP. But nooooooo,,,he even demanded papers which were quite, quite unneccessary (the instruction booklet asks for one documents for proof of address -- i had to give three different ones, which by the way, i had already submitted at the office and which he wasn't supposed to ask for anymore).



And after all the neccesary paperwork, he smiled, said thank you, and told me to take a walk with him outside. I admit it was a beautiful morning, but i didn't even have time to smell the flowers as the moment we got out, he turned to me and said.....(verbatim) "yes, tell me(smiling)". I wanted to tell him to go bugger himself. but i was told beforehand what I was supposed to do. So... reluctantly, i said thank u and slipped more than a day's salary in his hand.



He smiled, shook my hands and left. I thought for a moment, trying to convince myself that i had no choice. I've known cases where people did not get their's because they didn't give money. After all, he was a policeman and inspite of giving him all the papers needed, just three, four words from his pen in the verification paper and I would have fallen in the last hurdle to get my PASSPORT. Life! bugger.

BUGGER! life's so ironic
Once again, my spider sense has failed me. i really had a gut feeling that smthng big was gonna come my way. If not something good, at least something like being shot in the butt with a 22-mm shotgun. now that would have woken me up from this medically unheard-of slumber that i'm in. and i just can't get inspired to even write new posts on my blog. But truth be told, i've been doin a few things; twas just that things just did not materialise . a couple of my big plans went awry... and a couple of personal projects i can't reveal on this blog, so i'm playing the waiting game. and waiting can only mean a couple of things - a horizontal expansion of unwanted places and spaces (read belly, cheeks etc) and shrinking of others which were scarcely filled in the first place (read the brain). meanwhile, i'm increasingly getting hooked to country music, which i used to think are kind of corny. So here i am, a brain-dead, country music listening failed spiderman hammering away at the computer keyboard at 4 am in the mornign during my much hated garveyard shift. can it get any worst?? wait, yes it can ... or at least more ironic... i'm being given more responsibility at work (yeaaaa) without a PAY HIKE!

Almost eight months of morbidity. it's been a quaintly tedious and banal period , with a few and welcomed interruptions to my preoccupation with boredom -- a new, unexpected relationship and a couple of adventure trips. but otherwise, it's been far too .....lifeless, even for this homeboy. something's gotta give! and the sooner the better. that spider sense is kicking in..something lays ahead. and i'm heralding it (where else) on this personal space of mine-my long neglected blog.

Prologue: I confess, i'm going to digress. The birth of Phaedrus was supposed to bring out new thoughts and discourses. But as with everything else in my life, the 'plan' is sabotaged by recent events --all inconsequential in the cosmic sense. I've been really busy and there was no time to talk to Phaedrus, and before i take too long a break from blooging (again), another impromptu post is in the offing (serious thoughts have gone into the issue, though).
VINI VIDI VVVVHAT? (I CAME I SAW I COULDN'T HEAR ANYTHING)
Confessions of Ceasar wearing a torn underwear
Friends, romans, countrymen, lend me your ears. The precocious maveric that i am, early in everything including going to the bathroom every morning, i have discovered the drawbacks of experiencing the effectsof senility too soon in life.At the ripe old age of 24, i'm having problems registering sounds (without an iPod to blame for it). Now, as i would like to make myself believe that i'man active participant in society,this brings a plethora of problems when i actually try to communicate. The usual response i give when a person next to me makes an audible sound is Huh?!! ..followed by another -- huh?And for all u know, the guy was just burping, or most probably addressing the other person next to me (which i confirm when they start smiling and shaking each other's hands -- and i'm left trying to inhale back the escaped huh!! and start humming a just-composed huh-huh song to cover my embarassment)Couple this with my short term memory (read 3 seconds-long memory), you have a walking, huh-huh humming zombie lumbering around the place.And it's worse when i'm on the phone.........Now i usually blame my phone for this - A motorolla with a sound quality which would be perfect if you specifically asked for "the worst sound quality possible.". Apart from the phone, the only other thing i can blame is my adolescent days, when as a young kid, i used to frequent the river with friends, jumping into the water with nothing more than our birthday suits on (those were the days). And i used to get water in my ears very often. Now, remnants of those prehistoric water particles lying dormant for all these years must be starting to play havoc with my biological audio system, disrupting the path of sounds travelling inside the perfectly sculpted contours, peaks and crevices of this mucus-lined cavern that is my ears.These are the only scientifically sound deductions that i can conclude from my observations, and my diagnosis is that i'm probably half-crazy. The only thing that consoles me right now is that i'm wearing my favourite blue underwear, which is torn on one side.