Cry, my beloved country or we'll make you cry! The media, Indian and global, has turned the tsunami tragedy into a circus. News channels show our women beating their chest and crying their heart out. It must be eastern exotica for the west, used to dark-glasses at serene funerals, to see women wailing, howling in trance without those dark glasses to hide that tear.
This disaster has also brought the worst in newspapers trying to be the best.
The Asian Age published the photo of a dog feeding on a badly bloated body on the shore.
Times guys put their heads together to turn up with smarter headlines.
Express photojournalists gave a grieving father's photo a close crop and won the day.
And then my friend, Rajkumar Shaw, sent me a Reuters report exploring yet another angle to this. The religious angle, the god-walla angle. Different, huh? Here are two key paras:
Perhaps no event in living memory has confronted the world's great religions with such a basic test of faith as this week's tsunami, which indiscriminately slaughtered Indonesian Muslims, Indians of all faiths, Thai and Sri Lankan Buddhists and tourists who were Christians and Jews.
In temples, mosques, churches and synagogues across the globe, clerics are being called upon to explain: How could a benevolent God visit such horror on ordinary people?
I am totally at sea. Hello? God didn't do this. These people belonged to the sea and in the sea they are.
Some folks were dying to party on the beaches, many would give their life to live on the seaside, the sea too loved people, and the sea gave livelihood to families, communities, and people. And when the sea decided to embrace them, people who never cared for that relationship are crying foul.
The fishermen loved the sea, the tourists loved the sea, and rarely does love get reciprocated. The sea reciprocated with the same feelings, she grabbed her lovers and held them close to her bosom and said come to me, don't ever go away.
What we see rotting on the seashore are bodies, they are not people. The people are united with the sea they loved so much and lived for and died. That obscene 150,000 figure is body count, not people count.
What we are shocked by the enormity, the sheer number that gives us an opportunity to call Mother Nature a bitch. Should we forget that every death counts? Five people die on Delhi roads every day. People die every day, on road, at work, at home, unnatural deaths, natural deaths, disasters.
By the way, natural deaths are deaths too. And who decides natural? A doctor, who too is fucking mortal, and will die naturally or unnaturally. Come to think of it there's nothing called an unnatural death. Death is death. Death is natural. So is an earthquake or tsunami.
People keep dying in Kashmir, in Delhi, in Bengal, in America, in Switzerland. More people, certainly more than 150,000, die every day in this world. Just because these separate lives end in separate places and you don't have a sea horse to flog, death wouldn't stop standing up and being counted.
What the fuck is this noise about? It's a disgrace that we look at bodies, not people, even after they are dead. It is a slur on death's dignity and it betrays the stupid human weakness for body, not people. It's a fucking fake emotional fest. Two weeks later, you all are gonna be fine and everything will be forgotten.
It's hip to be sad now. Sad for who? The one's who died? They don't care for your tears, they aren't here. For the kin? Oh, yeah? Come on, stop pretending.
We are all just tailwagging bitches licking god's balls and roleplaying being good so that we don't die soon. Hence the sympathising. In truth we are all weak-hearted, limp-footed suckers thriving on the rotting carcasses, ourselves bloating and basking in the light of a fucking falsehood: "Thank god it wasn't me." And "since I am alive it's my duty to mourn the dead."
But hold on, your raises, promotions, extra-marital affairs and whatever the fuck you care about may not come, but death certainly will. Death is something you can depend upon; it'll keep its word unlike many dear ones you know. Death is dependable, 100 per cent.
How many people you know are so dependable? A few close friends and family, right? Death is a member of that close group. Treat it with respect and dignity. Be honest. Death is your that best friend who'll never betray you. Respect the bond of friendship.
It's a friend doing all this. Stop crying and blaming god. May God bless you and may you live a long life and enjoy every moment of it, before your best friend invites you to the biggest party not on earth. Go with your head held high and with pride. So, while you are here, do the same.
And finally a question: Insurgency has killed tens of thousands of people in Kashmir valley alone? Should we blame God or should we blame Pakistan?
P.S. I have already seen a TV mike thrust into a orphaned child's face with the question, "
Aapke maa-baap dono ki maut ho gayee, aapko kaisa lag raha hai? (Both your father and your mother are dead. How do you feel?)". I won't be aghast if I see a reporter holding a dead baby in one hand as s/he blabbers synthetic sentiments into that fallus-like mike for that celebrated piece to camera, or P2C as our TV brethren like to call it.
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