Complain Boys, Complain Girl

I am in the mood for complaining. I can't help the urge, you know. We are a nation of complainists, though there is no such word. But complainers is too mild a word. Anyway, to complain is our right, especially when facing a TV news camera.

You saved my life, now you give me a job

The three Indian hostages in Iraq are home now. And a week after the Indian government saved them from the thugs of Fallujah, at least two of them are complaining about their unemployment. Not long ago they were getting ready for their tryst with the butchers who have beheaded people from around the world. They were finally released after the terrorists' demands were met. No one knows how much money exchanged hands but quite a few millions were spent to buy their lives. They had gone to Iraq out of their own will. So did the about a dozen Nepalis, one of them was beheaded and the other 11 were shot dead. The Nepali government couldn't manage their release. The Indian government did.

While they were in captivity their relatives complained the government was not doing enough to bring them back alive. Now that they are released they are complaining that the government is not giving them employment. Dear Mr Sukhdev and Mr Tilakraj, thank your stars and the Indian government, you are living to complain.

Post my baby

Nancy is four years, eight months, 13 days, and whatever-your-watch-shows hours and minutes old at the moment. It's easy to get her age to the day because she is our Millennium baby. She was born in Bhopal on the night the world said goodbye to the past millennium. Today, she is too young and too busy with juggling her playtime to complain but her mother isn't going to let it go easily. I saw Mrs Ayesha Patel on TV engaged in our national pastime: complaining. "They have not even released a postage stamp on Nancy till date," I quote the mother. Though Nancy's parents are well off, the mother was expressing her annoyance with the government, which in her view has not offered any support to Nancy's education. Dear Mrs Patel, cool down and let Nancy grow normally, without a sense of your perceived injustice.